#shlded

      The sound of the air moving through the tree’s, the sound of the water moving nearby, even the light sound of voices drifitng over the wind were all things that Bucky has been told would make him feel at ease here. It was all part of the natural way things worked around here and that he would find comfort and peace in the simplicity of life here. Words that had meant very little from the team that not two weeks ago, had tried to stick him back on ice.

      Maybe it would be for the best. A few weeks ago he had been running around trying to kill people, innocent people all because some twisted piece of shit with a vendetta had chosen to use him, like so many before him, as a tool in some greater plan. Zemo hadn’t cared how long Bucky had worked to scrape back some semblance of a mind, and some structure to start healing. He hadn’t cared that he had hidden himself away for months trying to just make it to the end of the day. Only a few words had turned him right back into that ghost of a killer he was trying to escape. Maybe being back on ice was where he belonged.

      And now he was here. In a place that offered safety and security and yet, Bucky simply could not sit still. Maybe it was the stillness, or the scents in the air, or the knowledge that there was a device nearby that would be capable of freezing him should he choose - or should he step out of line. The people here were kind, but the few that came close enough to interact had waryness in their eyes that spoke volumes and in times like this, Bucky finds himself missing the noise and security of his apartment.

      All of the above is why sleep rarely comes. Each time he closes his eyes, Bucky has to relive the things he so desperately wants to forget. More recently it’s the horrific pain that came from having his arm ripped from his body, something so violent that the new tech provided by T’Challa doesn’t quite feel real. The horror’s he see’s with each blink are enough to keep him awake, and coupled with the unease he feels in Wakanda, it results in Bucky wandering around the small building he had been allowed to inhabit with one other guest.

      Steve Rogers. A man who looks at him with the world in his eyes and a lifetime of memories that Bucky doesn’’t quite have. Or rather, he hasn’t yet admitted to himself what he really remembers about this man. Perhaps afraid of the outcome.

     That’s what fills his thoughts the late night he starts cooking in the kitchen as something to keep his hands busy. In his tme spent away from HYDRA, Bucky’s struggle with his diet had been combatted with learning how to make things he liked the idea of in an attempt to encourage himself to eat for more than just the bare survival. A hard habit to break of course. He had been halfway through frying some onions, garlic and peppers together in a pan when the first twinges of dissociation had crept up. Bucky had gone from quitely cooking.. to pacing the kitchen with his mind miles away.

It’s late. Real late. The kind of late where it’s hard to define if it’s early morning or late night, but either way the moon’s high and the sky spattered with stars, and Steve’s awake because he can’t sleep; his mind’s restless and when he does get a chance to close his eyes, the dreams aren’t kind. It’s not something he talks about, not really, but it’s not something that’s hard to guess.

It’s not like he was expecting anyone else to be up, but when Tony joins him it’s no real surprise. There’s a shift of blue eyes back, and a slow exhale that’s not quite a sigh but hangs somewhere close. ❛ Thanks. ❜ The blanket’s accepted, taken, wrapped ‘round. It doesn’t do enough, it never does enough. But it’s something. ❛ Didn’t think anyone else would be up. ❜

"ehh, you know me--- when do i ever sleep?”

the smile he offers steve is half-hearted, doesn’t reach his eyes. tony is bone tired and it shows, movements languid as he steps up to stand by the other man.

he’s not surprised steve is up either. of course tony knows there’s skeletons in steve’s closet --- they all have them, even is steve hides his remarkably well. he’s not surprised that their rattling in their cages keeps him up at night. a blanket won’t do much to muffle them, he knows, but right now it’s all tony can offer.

reckless.  runs toward danger.  the both of them.  swelling and bruises, purple and faint pinks and reds.

he’s lost many before, the thought of losing anyone else, someone so close, sickens him.  if only he could just protect everyone.  if only it were ever that easy.

he does not want to find himself carrying the dead body of steve rogers.  not ever.

“ you’re not invincible, ”  tony mumbles, fingers playing with each other in his lap.  “ but i’ll spare you the speech, ‘cause i know it’s hypocritical of me.  you just need to——  just tell me everything when you feel like it so i’m not left in the dark. ”  with the fall of SHIELD, there’s a lot to discuss. tony heaves a sigh, leans back into the uncomfortable hospital chair and feels like he’s going to keep sinking into the seat as if it’s an endless hole.

                                      @shlded​   :    plotted       something felt off. there had seen a weight in her gut since that morning, uncomfortable and heavy with every step she took. it had started when one of her past patient had come into the ER talking about how he was feeling pain in his wrist again. he was a young man, old enough to have his insurance card on him but young enough to still be on his parents. she had met him a year ago when his mother brought him in after an skateboard accident that had thrown him down a ramp. the broken wrist wasnt as difficult as keeping him calm enough so that everything in the room stayed in its place. instead of shying away from the unknown, clarke had a habit of walking straight into it. after helping a few patients with super human abilities, other came asking for her knowing that she was a safe resource for themselves and their children.        the doctor glanced up from the window of the train towards the back of the car. it was quick, enough to see if the man she had seen back on subway station by the hospital was still there. he was. it wasnt that he stuck out, he looked normal with a coat and jeans, a baseball cap. but it was the way she felt his eyes on her that left her unsettled. paired with the surprise visit from her telekinetic patient that had nothing wrong with his wrist yet nervously asked her if she saw other patients like him, what kind of abilities did they have...if she kept track. she didnt answer, reminding him of her promise of confidentiality. however, a gut feeling had her taking all of the patient files she kept under lock and key with her.

It's the first time he's actually taken note of Steve's birthday --- and been interested in acknowledging it. Peace offering after peace offering has been well accepted, and there's no reason this should be any different, in Loki’s estimation --- especially since this is a gift-giving occasion anyway.

On the floor outside Steve’s apartment he has left a tin case of assorted charcoal pencils and a heavy-leafed sketchbook, into which he has tucked a little folded note written in a lightly, spindly hand :

                 exhaled smoke curls above her head like the crown she so desires. new york weather remains cruel, &&. she has a moment of regret for not putting on a coat. she is practically naked, after all. almost delicately, she brings a foot over to the man now unconscious in the alley way, gives an errant kick. these days, it’s just part of the job.  ❝  just for that, your wallet &&. your cigarettes both belong to me now, ❞  she says, not looking down.  she turns then, flashes a brilliant smile. she knows exactly the kind of picture she paints.

✶ - @shlded​ said : ❝ i’m fine, let me see your face . ❞

     ❝ uh . . .❞ even with that mask of hers shrouding the upper half of her features , she hesitates . it really doesn’t offer much protection at all , not up close - & certainly not in this lighting . she’s uncomfortable with the idea , it shows - but she is also very clearly injured : busted lip , cheek bruising as they speak , & head pounding like a drum . no point in lying . ❝ -- why ? is it that bad ? ❞

     a breathy laugh slips past her split lip , causing her to wince . hope isn’t consciously opposed to accepting the same help she so readily offers to others , in fact , right now ? she knows she needs it more than ever , knows she really ought to be leaning into the idea of accepting help from such an influential person - i mean , captain america ? c’mon ! even so , her identity is sacred . it shelters those she loves , the people she can’t live without - the only family she has left . there’s no level of desperation that could justify putting them at risk , none . ❝ . . . i . . . i’d really rather not . but thanks , for caring . ❞

❝  𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 ?    i  broke  my  leg .  ❞    she  sprained  her  ankle .    but  is  she  gonna  be  as  annoying  as  possible  since  steve  is  visiting?   absolutely.