#identitymend

               it was odd, for steve - sitting on a plane, knowing that he wasn’t heading to his doom or about to jump out of it. sitting on a plane just to get to somewhere, like normal people did. like people who weren’t superheroes did.

his hand settled easily on bucky’s thigh, his gaze on the runway outside, people scurrying around as they got ready to take off. of course, they could have taken a more private plane, but this was all part of it - sitting in first class, reading magazines and all the rest of it as they waited to head off. this was what people on their honeymoon did, even if this was technically steve and bucky’s second honeymoon.

 ❝   eat  the  fucking  greens,  shit-trumpet.   ma  will  slaughter  me  if  i  haven’t  finished  the  plate  of  vegetables  she  pre - cooked  for  me .  she’s  comin’  ‘round  in  twenty  for  tea.   be  a  pal.  help  me  out  &  just  clear  your  fucking  plate  so  i  won’t  have  t’  finish  the  greens  alone.   ❞

What's wrong bab?

boost my overly inflated ego.

❛   OF   COURSE   I   do, silly,   ❜   dry throat warps the words, scritch-scratching, all but torn out of her mouth, in attempt to placate, to reassure   ————————-   i love you, i really do   —————————-      (     but does it matter, when washing the blood off of your hands is an impossibility, when your skin feels like muck pulsing with eyes the color of tar, bubbling and boiling and gurgling in a language long-lost to time   ?      )      dry, lightly calloused scholar’s hands gently lay themselves over his, squeezing gently, reminding gently, i love you because no one else loves me.