MORE OF A SOLDIER

“Wut…? Ya don’ reckon I got th’ complexion fer it?,” Ben snorted, faux indignation heavy in his tone. 

“So wut’s this about? Th’ Avengin’ business not payin’ enough tha’ now they gotcha out here leafletting?” he mocked, turning over one of the leaflets in his hands and reading the blurb.

It was all clear enough; Veterans Support Services in Star City - A place to share and heal.  Ben had considered going to some meetings in the distant past - once before the accident and a few times after - but he didn’t feel like he’d earned the right to.  Sure, he’d flown combat missions before he became a test pilot, but most of what he’d want to talk about had happened to Ben after he’d become The Thing and that had been a civilian flight… Nothing to do with the Airforce.

“I hope ya gedda few more boots through th’ door wiv these,” Ben said, holding out the leaflet. “Ya doin’ good work here, Sam.”  

Sam had to laugh before he shook his head. “Nah, I think you’ll thrive here just fine. I’m more worried about the earthquakes,” he joked.

Ben tried his best to discreet when walking around the city, bundled as he was in oversized trench coat and fedora, but given that his mass and composition meant that every foot fall came with its own mini seismic event, it was pretty much a non-starter.  He’d found that keeping his head down and projecting a surly attitude kept most people from bothering him, but there were always the charity muggers and flyer kids to contend with… Nothing seemed to dissuade them. 

‘Bet they’d even try t’get a donation outta Galactus if he wuz ta show up,’ Ben thought himself, eyes down as he crossed the road to avoid another teen in a brightly coloured tabard and practically walking into someone else handing out flyers.

“Guddammit… Can’t ya watch where ya goin’, fella!,” Ben grumbled loudly, more embarrassed by his own clumsiness than angry at the man he’d nearly knocked flying.  Now he’d have to stop to help this guy pick up his leaflets, when all Ben really wanted was to get home, crack some beers and watch last night’s game.

‘Of all th’ stinkin’ luck,’ Ben thought, before scooping up some of the leaflets in his massive hand. “Sorry… You okay, pal?” he asked, holding out the crumpled sheets.

Sam just watched the flyers fall gracefully into chaos upon the ground around him. They were already scattered - what could he do as they fell? He was human, after all, and because he was human he definitely felt that bump. He started to assure that he was fine and went to scoop a small pile of leaflets before pausing as he took in his helping hand. It really was a small world, huh?

“Nobody’s managed to knock me in the head hard enough to miss you yet. I figure if they do, it’ll just kill me instead.” Again, Bucky said it all with a largely straight face. Sam was a good guy. He had to be, or Steve would’ve have trusted him the way he did. That was enough on its own to at least get Bucky to be neutral with someone. He had to put faith in that judge of character, because if he didn’t…well, Steve going to bat for him might have implications he didn’t want to have to consider. 

“I was just on my way out. No plans. There’s a place across the street,” he nodded toward the door, “if you want lousy coffee and a sandwich.” Lousy by 2021 civilian standards, anyway. 

“Uh huh, that’s funny. I’ll remember that the next time you need air support,” Sam returned, his humor obvious and quite the contrast to Bucky’s stoic expression. It took him a little while to wade through Bucky’s kind of humor, but he was confident enough that he had at least surface level figured out. Everything beneath that had to be a mess that Sam wasn’t qualified enough to go through. He had an idea of where to start, but, mind control was a whole other beast.

“Do we know each other?” Bucky kept his expression completely neutral for several long seconds - plenty of time to make it seem like he was genuinely waiting for an answer. He eventually relented just to say, “Didn’t think about you at all, actually.” But the statement came accompanied by him reaching out to squeeze Sam’s shoulder with one hand. “Steve’ll be glad you’re back.” He didn’t bother to say that he was glad, just to keep things rolling.

The truth of it, of course, was that he was only even standing in that building because of Sam. He might not have come up with volunteering at the VA on his own, but after things had got dicey with the memory retrieval it was one of the only things that had kept him feeling like he was still part of the world. The anchor wedged a little deeper all the time, fortunately, but for awhile it had been one of his few tethers. Maybe he’d admit that later. 

Sam couldn’t hold back the snort that escaped him at Bucky’s choice of greeting, but the silence that lingered after was convincing enough to give him a slight edge of worry. Slight, and it lasted all but a hot second before Bucky’s next line — that was better. “Good. If you did, I’d be worried,” he quipped as the small smile returned to his expression. Of course, it all went unsaid, but Sam was glad to be back, too.

Sam wanted to be more involved in the community, especially the one that encompassed District X. Now that the gates were open, he figured that could be a potentially new spot to spread the word about the evening meetings at the VA. While he had no doubt that they had their own services, it never really hurt to have other options. He could help, if they wanted it.

He didn’t go inside, not yet passing the immense metal walls that surrounded the young faction, and instead passed out flyers regarding the meeting and its varying hours. There were already informational posters stapled to light posts and taped to walls, but it never hurt to go directly to the source — the people.

Sam wasn’t alone — he had a handful of other counselors and volunteers around the city in the areas closest to the VA speaking to the public to get the ball rolling.

Postcards were easy to send. Less trail. Sam could probably recite Steve’s home address by heart by now, and it was why he decided not to call him when his plane arrived - not to mention it was in the middle of the night, anyway. So he slept off the jetlag before nabbing himself a Lyft ride over to the star spangled abode.

He’d gotten situated in a hotel room, with something already in the works for the prospect of long-term (moving again didn’t really seem like it would be in the cards), and settled everything at the VA, so the next logical move would be to see the people he’d come to see.

After a few good knocks, the door opened so that the pair could meet again face to face. Sam shared a warm smile before greeting Steve. “Heard you guys could use some backup.”

It was typical that the flight would come in late, but Sam didn’t dwell on that. Instead, he was just happy to finally be in the city to catch up with everyone and see where he could help, where he fit in. First on the agenda though, was getting situated with the city’s VA before he perused his Star City contact list.

While Bucky was up there, he hadn’t been first (Steve was, but he wasn’t about to admit that), it would be his luck to find him in the dimly lit halls. Exiting? Perhaps, but Sam couldn’t say for sure. Instead, he offered his compatriot a grin when their eyes met. 

“Hope you didn’t miss me too much while I was gone.”