just a kid in a domino mask

“You never know. Might not be good for anything else.” Bucky smiled and started to fiddle with his blankets again. The endless days of doing absolutely nothing were starting to get to him. As much as it was nice getting to rest, he’d done enough sleeping for this century and the next.

Natasha smiled at him fondly, “Good,” She repeated, then laughed with him, “don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you. I know how to take care of you, don’t you worry about that.” She was pleased that he didn’t let go or shy away from her hand, Natasha was feeling more confident around him now, it seemed to her that seeing Steve was good enough. It was a shame that when she’d tell him the truth about what the Winter Soldier tried to do it might break him, she’d need to be careful.

Bucky nodded as she spoke, quiet for a while. He supposed there was an inevitability about being conditioned like they had been. You might leave the Red Room, but the Red Room never left you. But with time and...friends, he hoped he could have his mind back, for himself, not wake up screaming in the night with unknown blood on his hands.

"You never know. Might not be good for anything else." Bucky smiled and started to fiddle with his blankets again. The endless days of doing absolutely nothing were starting to get to him. As much as it was nice getting to rest, he'd done enough sleeping for this century and the next.

Natasha pursed her lips and her fingers flexed, “We’ve both done bad things,” She told him, which was the truth, “but you can make up for the bad you’ve done. I did. There’s no reason why you can’t do the same,” there was a small hint of doubt in her voice. She wasn’t entirely sure if she had the gut to tell him just yet that he had tried to kill his best friend without even realising.

James listened, silent. Natasha was always worth listening to. She had an air about her, wisdom and quiet confidence, and he'd always found her fascinating just to talk to. You could never second guess Natasha.

Steve smiled. “You do….you always did.” he said. He watched his friend, wishing he could give him a hug or even a pat on the shoulder, something, something to show Bucky that he had missed him. Bucky was the only real friend he had before the serum, he was the only one Steve trusted completely.

Lips tight, Bucky smiled sideways, grateful again for the effort. Of course he cared. More than he should have. Caring about Steve was the entire to-do list of his childhood, and it usually went hand in hand with getting beat up caring about Steve.

Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying her. If anything, she was more beautiful than he remembered, the time having clouded his memories of her, tainted the colour of her hair, dulled her eyes. Seeing her so close, close enough to touch, was more than he had ever dreamt of.

So nobody knew. That made sense, he supposed. It was Natasha's prerogative to keep whatever she wanted from whoever she wanted, and that sort of thing was a little difficult to explain. Bucky looked at her, wanting to understand, but knowing she'd tell him if she wanted, and only if she wanted. You couldn't push Natasha.

She pulled a face, “Yeah, should be fairly simple. I imagine I’ll be back in a couple of weeks, depends on how easily I’m accepted into the fold, I’d tell you more but…” She shrugged, “You know how it is.” Classified. It was a shame she’d be out there for a little longer than a few weeks, and not just in Russia, but even she didn’t know that yet. Events were already in motion.

Bucky wanted a mission. His life was an endless cycle of missions and training and praise and more missions. It felt empty without something to do, something to plan in his head, someone to pick apart and learn like a book. The idea of going with her, just like old times, was one he almost didn't want to entertain, just in case it made him want to break out of the building and start an underground crime fighting squad or something equally ridiculous.

“I was frozen in ice for seventy years.” he murmured. “When I woke up I was thrown into a new world and had nothing and no one familiar to hold onto. I don’t fit in here, I don’t understand it and I’m starting to accept that I never will. I’m the man out of time that no one really cares about.”

Bucky subconsciously backed off, mildly confused by Steve's reaction. Yes he'd always been an almighty stick in the mud, but he didn't think he'd ever touched a nerve quite like that before. He frowned to himself, recalculating, and again found himself missing the ease of a gun in his hand. Guns didn't have to talk. You just aimed and squeezed and job done. This was odd, unfamiliar.

Was she blushing? She might well be. It had been a while since she’d been called anything like that, especially coming from him, it was… Nice. Dare she think it it was almost as if things were normal again, well, as normal as things could be between the two of them when you ignore the cell and the reason he was in one. Natasha didn’t want to think of that right now.

Bucky smiled as she did, happy that at least he could still make Natasha smile. It had been a hard thing to do, but somehow he managed, and even after fifty years, he still had the talent.

“I guess you could call it that, I mean, I am the one in colored tights.” he chuckled, hands slipping into his pockets. He could feel the tension in the room and he wished he could make it go away. Steve had changed since he had woken up, but waking up to a new world and finding out everyone you knew died would change anyone. 

He tried a smile, grateful for Steve's effort, but it disappeared quickly. His hands had folded in his lap, pink against silver, and Bucky watched them as though interested in the colour contrast, when really he didn't know where else to look. This was Steve's world, not his, Steve with the fame and the power and the justice. Bucky was a hired assassin. How could he even be in the same room as the fabled Captain America? It didn't feel the same as winters together by the fire, or sharing the same blanket when there was nothing else, or stroking sweat-soaked hair from Steve's eyes during feverish nights. It didn't feel like his Steve.

He shook his head slightly, smiling. He watched Bucky move his hand, wanting to ask if he remembered what happened. He thought back to what Natasha had said and decided against it.

"Huh..." Bucky nodded, less cheerful than before. It was odd. He was glad to see Steve, of course he was, but somehow it wasn't the meeting he'd imagined, if he'd imagined anything at all. There were so many questions, so much to ask and discover, so why didn't he feel at ease? "Doing superhero stuff?"

The fingers brushing his hair were welcome. If Bucky had been sleeping more deeply, he could have quite happily snapped Natasha's wrist, but the hiss of the door had stirred him enough for him to know there was no danger. Still, he could pretend.

@Bucky

Bucky was asleep when Natasha entered. He was a soldier, he'd sleep anywhere at any time if he had the smallest of chances. The soft hiss of the door made him stir, shifting beneath his blankets, curling into himself like a child. It had been an awful long time since he'd simply slept for sleeping's sake.

Submission #808