ππ΅π¦π±π© ππ°π¨π¦π³π΄ (
dysmorphics) wrote2026-01-03 02:28 pm
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it's you and me up against the world, it's you and me
I don't need a parachute, baby if I've got you
Baby if I've got you, I don't need a parachute
You're gonna catch me,
You're gonna catch if I fall
( πΆ )

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Letting out weak chuckle, Bucky looked down at her, then grabbed the throw off the back of the couch to pull around him, the memories giving him a chill. "I'm not a big fan of heights any more, if you can believe it."
It was good he had Steph in his arms though, because her presence was a comfort for him, and he knew once he was on the stand recounting the worst parts of his past he wouldn't have that comfort.
He went on to explain how the US Government deemed him killed in action but how HYDRA found him and started their real work on him. He was vague about the details, not wanting to go into all the ways they tortured him, or all the things they prodded at him with and ways they kept experimenting on him, but he did mention that it happened, and how they even sunk so low as to taunt him with the headlines announcing his best friend's death, especially since they knew he carried her picture in his pocketwatch. They could put two and two together.
Bucky had tried to resist for so long, but eventually he still broke down.
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Did Cap fail him in that, too? Was Steph going to have to prepare for life dealing them with the worst hand? She should seriously look into those plans should the trial go south.
It wasn't easy hearing what happened after he fell. She reached for his hand to hold in her tiny one, while the other gently rubbed his back; it was as much for her as it was for him. Though that was all in the past, she was furious. She wanted to tear HYDRA apart, wanted to make every one who hurt him pay. And she wanted to keep him in her arms so that no one could ever touch him again, despite the knowledge that she was even more powerless than her counterpart.
"We can... we can stop," she said. "I'm sorry I made you do this." She was hurting him, too.
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So, instead, he kept his mouth shut and his arms open to hold her and listen whenever it all became too much.
"You didn't make me do anything, sweetheart, it's alright," he added. "You deserve to know who you agreed to marry. And I should tell you so other people can't twist up my words. I'll broad strokes the next few decades, alright?"
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Not capable of much, said the woman who would've become Captain America had the opportunity not been taken away from her. But while she might doubt her abilities, she had no doubt about her resolve. She would move heaven and earth for him, defy the universe for him β as her counterpart had, over and over, even if he was mad at her for it.
She nodded and let him continue. If it were up to her, she would want every detail, if only to list every name and tally every transgression. But she did not want him to relive his pain and suffering any more than he had to, so she didn't push it. She simply held him and listened.
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He continued then, wanting to make sure he was clear about just how messed up they made his mind, how he couldn't remember anything at all most of the time, just did whatever they told him to. And how that awful book was part of that. "I had trigger words," he said. "If certain things were said in a certain order I'd stop whatever I was doing and just... comply. They don't work any more, thank god. That's one of the main reasons I spent time healing in Wakanda."
And then Bucky told her about how they would put him in cryo for months or years at a time, then take him out for missions, wipe his brain, give him his orders, then send him out for an assassination. Sometimes it was politicians, sometimes it was people they found annoying. Sometimes he was the Soldier they'd pick from their mini-army just because it amused them to have Bucky Barnes do it, like when they sent him after Howard.
Sometimes it wouldn't even be for an assassination. Those were almost preferable to the times HYDRA would just loan him out for allies to do whatever they wanted with. Bucky absolutely didn't go into details there, but the meaning was clear.
He also pointed out that his handlers were usually these tall blonde haired, blue eyed women, because it didn't take them long to realize that he resisted a bit less when they resembled his Captain America. At least they didn't realize that a tiny blonde haired, blue eyed woman would have had the same effect, so it limited the agents they could pull from.
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She swallowed, realizing that was exactly the path Cap had spiraled down on. Yet even that hadn't been enough. Maybe Steph's best friend was now safe from most of the horrors, but it didn't undo any of the awful, awful things that happened to the man she was going to marry.
So she didn't say anything, just continued to hold him and listen, while silently making some promises to herself. He would always have a choice. He would never have to do anything he didn't want, especially in bed.
And he would always have her. No matter the outcome of the trial, no matter what else came their way. He would be safe with her. He would be loved with her. And, hopefully, he would be happy with her.
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He might have been a hell of a lot better than he was when he escaped, but he was still a very damaged man.
"They screwed up with the last mission, though," he began, then let out a single weak, sad laugh. "After Captain America came back, they thought it'd be funny if I was the one they pulled out of cryo to send after her. But seeing her started... triggering memories. Sort of. I didn't even know my own name, but I knew I knew her somehow, but didn't know how, and they didn't like that. I still almost killed her, though, then we fell in this river, and I pulled her out instead before taking off. That's how I finally got away from them.
"For a couple years I went on the run, stayed mostly in abandoned buildings or HYDRA safe houses before burning them down, lived off the money I stole from those safe houses. I even managed to take out a couple of HYDRA bases single handed, but I kept trying to find out more about this random woman, and imagine my surprise when every time I'd find something about her, there I was, too. Then she caught up to me in Romania."
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Especially after all those awful stories and the admission that he'd almost killed her. She'd always thought being sick was a terrible way to die; one didn't only suffer in pain and with the knowledge of what and who they were leaving behind, but their loved ones would have to watch them wither and fade away, too. But it turned out there was a scenario far, far worse.
"Was that after they accused you of bombing some peace conference?" She had been reading and trying to piece things together after she learned he was going to be put on trial. The bombing was in a lot of news sites and had turned up easily when she looked up his name on the Google.
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"It was immediately after. I'd just seen a paper with my face plastered on it when she tracked me down, then some kind of angents and T'Challa were right on her heels. His dad was the king of Wakanda that had been killed in the bombing. At least we were able to convince him it was a frame job." As fast as Bucky was, Black Panther had been faster. And he was scary dammit.
At least, he was scary until you actually got to see the guy regularly.
After that, Bucky went into how he and Steph had gone on the run for a very short time, they got taken in and that asshole used the book on him, the big fight at the airport, ('Tony brought a goddamn kid to the fight. He was a strong kid, but he was still a damn kid.'), how he and Steph had found their way to the Winter Soldier facility only to find the rest already dead, and how Tony found them there.
Then he mentioned how he went to Wakanda and volunteered to be put back in Cryo until they could figure out how to fix him. Fix both his mind and also replacing the arm Tony had blown off.
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"But they found a way, yeah? In Wakanda?" She remembered the broad strokes from there β recovering, the goat he named Rogers, the alien invasion, and dying. Or at least disappearing for years until Cap and the surviving Avengers brought half the universe back through a combination of magic and time travel. Steph didn't really get it, it was still something she'd yet to wrap her mind around, but she knew it was real. She was here, decades into the future, as a consequence of all that.
She squeezed his hand. "Why did you think knowing this would change my mind about you? About us?" Maybe it was a difficult question, especially because they had never really been used to talking about feelings and shit, but since that night they had gotten together she'd told herself they had to get better at communicating. So she was trying.
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Not all of them, of course. Some were from the surgery. But many of them were caused by a desperate man trying to get rid of something that didn't belong there.
Her last couple of questions made him pause, though. Bucky chewed on his lip for a moment before answering. "I spent a lot of time questioning and second-guessing myself after I got away from them. I still do sometimes, but not as much as I did before. But it sort of... bleeds into other things, too." He sighed. "Plus, I just have a lot of guilt. Logically, I know none of that was my fault, but I can still remember every face, every name, and that's what most of my nightmares are about."
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"I don't really know what to say that wouldn't make you feel worse," she admitted. "That was... that was fucked up." Sorry felt like an empty platitude, and he already said he knew, logically, that it wasn't his fault. It wasn't her absolution that he needed.
Then she remembered something he said before, about how Cap hadn't asked him if he wanted to be saved or whatever it was she thought she was accomplishing. So Steph asked. "What do you want me to say? What do you need me to do?" For him, she would do anything.
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"I don't need you to say or do anything you don't want to, sweetheart," he started with another sigh. "I just don't want to lose you."
He'd already told her before that if she ever wanted to go, she could. Bucky would never force her to stay where she didn't want to. But at the same time, he didn't know what he would do if she did decide to leave one day. Not to her, not to others, but he didn't know what he would do with--or to--himself.
But he knew he wouldn't be telling her that part.
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She would give him time and space if he ever needed any, or if there were things he felt he had to take care of on his own, things about his past and the nightmares that continued to haunt him. She was only asking that he not shut her out, that he talk to her β even if it was to tell her that he couldn't sleep beside her that night and he wanted to be alone for a while.
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"I won't push you away, sweetheart. Not intentionally," he promised before leaning in to give her a soft kiss. If she wasn't running away, he wouldn't either. Not from this. "And if it ever seems like I am just, let me know, alright? You already know sometimes I just need quiet for a little while, but I always come back around to you, don't I?"
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So what if she was a sap? Let him make fun of her; it would be worth it, to ease even a little of that pain and sorrow he carried with him all the time.
When they broke off the kiss, she rested her forehead against his. "Like when you would move to sleep on the floor sometime during the night?" Yeah, she'd noticed. She wasn't a light sleeper, not now when she was finally getting some relief from most of the symptoms that had been plaguing her, but there were times she woke up ahead of him and found herself alone on their bed.
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Instead of making fun of her, he just said a simple, "I take you, too, Stephanie Grace Rogers," before giving her another sweet kiss. It might not have been all the words required, but it was enough to get Bucky's point across.
Letting go of her wrists, Bucky wrapped his arms around her waist again, holding her as he let his eyes close. "The floor thing, that's a mix of the nightmares and going eighty years without regularly sleeping in an actual bed." Between the war, the cryo, and the sleeping in whatever buildings he could find, beds had been few and far between for him. Sure, there had been a few here and there since his escape, but none as regular as he'd had since he came to stay with his best friend after the blip.
Actually, none as regular as since he and Steph became an item. Up until then, Bucky usually slept on the floor of the guest room.
"Trust me, if it wasn't for that, I'd stay in bed beside you all the time. It's just, I don't know. Really soft when you're used to sleeping on the ground."
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After a while of just holding each other, she asked, "What about when you have nightmares? Should I leave you alone, or will you tell me what you need?" Maybe she was overthinking things, especially as he'd been fine with most of what they'd gotten up to, even the intimate stuff. But all that information made her start to rethink her actions. Had she been too inconsiderate? Too careless? Had he just been putting up with her so she wouldn't leave him?
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"I'll tell you if I need something, I promise," he told her simply. There was a large part of him that worried about his nightmares. Specifically, he worried that in his tossing and turning, or in how he sometimes jerked when he woke up, he'd accidentally lash out at Steph. But he already tried to sleep so she was on his right, just in case. It would be awful if he accidentally smacked her in his sleep, it would be even worse if it were with a vibranium arm. "So far you've done everything right by me."
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"Okay," she said, tilting her head up to kiss his cheek. She didn't think so β that she did everything right β but she wasn't going to argue with him about it, just overthink things later once it was quiet and she could get lost in her own head.
"Do you wanna just rest now?" She'd planned to lure him to bed and celebrate their engagement, but that was before they opened the can of worms that was his past, and now she wasn't sure what he needed. She'd cook for him later, at least. Some of his old favorites, and maybe soup to ward off the chill in the air that seemed to have seeped into their apartment.
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Holding her, laughing with her, arguing with her, Bucky loved all of it, just like he always had.
"I love you, Steph. I'm always gonna pick you." He just felt like reminding her of that, since that's what she was thanking him for earlier. The statement was just as true now that she knew his whole past as it was when he asked the question earlier. And it had been just as true before he shipped out in 43, just like it was true when they were just hitting puberty. He always picked Steph, even if he got talked into dates that he knew from the start would go nowhere.
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In a weird way, she was glad for what Cap had decided to do. Not because it had led to Steph and this Bucky getting together, but because one of them had to avenge him and set things right. Steph couldn't do that, not even with all her righteous anger. But she could stay and fight for peace β his peace β and, once she came to terms with her rage, rest knowing that one of them had at least tried. For in which world, in which timeline, did Stephanie Rogers not love Bucky Barnes? Steph was willing to bet there was none.
She kissed his cheek. "I love you, too, Buck. I always have, and I always will." She would hold him for as long as he wanted, for as long as he needed, through his nightmares and whatever else that might come their way. For now, that was for a little while longer, and she lay there, nestled in his arms, Fred Astaire crooning softly in the background.
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But maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise, considering what a comfort Steph's general presence was to him.
Eventually, he decided to break the silence. "What do you want to do for dinner tonight?" he asked, voice soft and hand rubbing circles on her back again. Sure, they'd gone to eat earlier, but since then they'd gone all the way out to the Boardwalk for a while before coming home, and Bucky hadn't paid any attention to how long it took him to tell her his story and just curl up with her. "I'm not hungry yet, but we're probably gonna need to eat again eventually."
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"I was thinking we could order something a little fancy. You know, to celebrate," she answered, a hint of sleep still in her voice. "But only if you wanna. I can make soup if you'd prefer that instead." Soup was comforting, and they both needed comfort after everything he'd told her. Celebrating could wait, if he didn't have the energy for it.
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After thinking about it for a moment, Bucky stated, "I don't want you to have to cook anything tonight, sweetheart. What kind of fancy were you thinking? Steak and wine or do I need to try to look up some kinda French restaurants or something?" He'd never had French food, and he didn't speak French, but it's one of those things that people always said was fancy. "Unless you had something else in mind."
He loved it when Steph cooked, but they'd had a full day. Not just the shopping, which was admittedly a lot for Bucky, but also Bucky finally telling her all about the time between when she came from and the present. And, most importantly, they were engaged now, dammit. As soon as they got her legal status worked out, he was going to officially make her his wife.
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