trainwrecked | Revelations. For onthedot and oldfashionedhero

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Revelations. For onthedot and oldfashionedhero

Over the last couple of years, most of the dreams had abated, generally. Not like they had been the first months, at any rate.

But the return of the colder weather seemed to make them worse, to the point where Bucky'd taken, recently, to avoid sleeping as much as he could. Quietly and without disturbing Steve or Peggy, he thought.

Predictably, that didn't work for long. Eventually, he simply... nodded off, one late morning, when he was going through the morning press with a dictionary. (The Spanish morning press, thank you very much, he could read English without reference material.)

The dream started ... almost acceptably, with him climbing up a snow-thick slope. He'd had no map, no much reference about his starting point, back then, and his memory was spotty at best. And it hurt, hurt all the time. The missing limb, the cold, the exhaustion, the hunger, but mostly the missing arm. It kept him off-balance, it kept. Just being wrong. Reminding him of all he'd lost. All.

Suddenly, he reached a ledge, sheer rock face dropping down far bellow, right in font of him in the snow. He gasped and stumbled back, falling to his knees in the snow and trying to look-not look-look at the precipice. Creeping closer, despite the vertigo (it had to be vertigo, right? Nothing more?) He would have to go to the other side, to keep moving west, somehow. It felt too much, like even the smallest snowflake was weighing him down until he couldn't contemplate getting up again.

Then, there was crunch of boots in the snow behind him. Familiar boots, he'd woken up on the cot on the ground, looking at those boot, manacled because he'd killed two people when he was first recovered.

"It's no use, you know. No matter how far you get, we'll catch up with you. Maybe you could've run from us before you first fell, but now? Now you're just ours." He could swear he should be able to place the accent, but he hadn't been able to, this far. "Where are you running to, anyway? There was nothing there - nobody who won't spurn you, even if they remember you. They didn't come to even look for you."

He didn't answer. Just grunted, and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. Keep going.

But the voice beside him laughed, clearly amused, not impressed, by his action.

"Oh, now you make our work so much easier. You get to fall again."

And the other man pushed him. As hell, he could ear the voice from above. "Let's see what you lose this time, little soldier. Maybe this time you'll cause so much trouble. Maybe you won't know who you were..."

"No!"

It wasn't even a shout, as Bucky started up from where he'd slumped against the textbook's edge. It wasn't a shout, but it was a croak, full of despair and pain.

He fucking hated nightmares. And falling. And waking up shaking like a leaf, like a weakling.

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He had barely twitched and the silence was warm and comfortable as they sprawled around the tiny, cramped apartment she had rented for herself in Brooklyn the moment they had returned from the war front. The moment she had known her place was here and not in England and so far away from those she had come to care for desperately. She had brought James with her. Made him really. When she could pull him from Steve's side in those brief weeks before he woke up.

But now they were all here together and while it should have, and frankly could have, been less awkward, there was always that undercurrent of fear of losing one another if anyone left.

Yet, even in the stillness of that morning, Peggy's eyes drifted back to James slumped form where he had fallen asleep over the paper. The idiot likely thought neither she nor Steve had noticed he wasn't sleeping. As if he could honestly hide something like that while staying in close quarters. So seeing him resting now, she was hesitant to rouse him.

Until she noticed the tremor.

Until he started mouthing words.

She rose from her chair and moved to kneel beside him, ready to shake him back into the present, when he did the job for her. Her hand instantly went to his face.

"James," her tone was forceful for all that it was quiet. "Look at me. They can't ever have you. You're safe here with Steve and I."

Steve had settled in at the opposite end of the table with the English version of the paper and a cup of coffee. It wasn't unusual for the three of them to sit in silence in the mornings. It was a comfortable silence on it's own, but when Bucky actually managed to get some sleep, Steve and Peggy had an unspoken agreement not to disturb him unless it was necessary.

Steve knew that if one of them were to wake Bucky he would deny there was a problem, and probably stay up even longer just to prove there wasn't. It wasn't the best solution and eventually they would need to press the issue, but in the meantime they had both agreed - or at least had seemed to have agreed - to give him some space.

It was the soft scrape of Peggy's chair that drew Steve's attention away from the paper and to Bucky. Steve watched as Peggy steadied him with a tender touch. One that was much softer than her words."

Steve felt something twist deep in his stomach as he watched them then quickly pushed it aside as he focused on the look on Bucky's face.

"She's right," he said, getting to his feet and moving closer. He put a steadying hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You're safe. We're right here."

Bucky's entire body was tense, shivering, his hand clenching and unclenching, chest heaving. He tensed even more, at the touch, though the voice (familiar, not that voice) kept him from flinching away (kept him from lashing out). But his eyes were still too wide, too afraid. Unseeing.

And then Steve spoke, and his attention snapped up to the man, the familiarity and comfort of that voice overriding even his panic. Only then did the word register, too.

Safe.

Not falling. Not alone, not in their hands again, not running. Not caught.

He took a deep breath and held it, eyes fixed on Steve's. Then, ever so slowly, he made his hand relax - then reach up to cup the back of Peggy's hand on his face (deliberate, but not conscious). Not looking away from his friend's eyes.

"I'm... sorry." His voice was still rough. But, at least, he was finally back here in the warm, comfortable room. Mostly. "I shouldn't've..."

He trailed off.

"Slept?" Peggy shakes her head and gazes up at Steve with a tired smile. Yes. They'd both noticed it. But perhaps it was time they all sat down and talked about it.

"Yes, we're both terribly upset with you about that."

She swiped her thumb soothingly across his cheek and leaned up to press a kiss to his forehead, secure in the knowledge that Steve would stay with him even when she pulled back to stand.

"If you're going to apologize unnecessarily, you may as well do it over breakfast."

Steve gave a half smile at Peggy's gentle reprimand, holding Bucky's gaze a moment longer before his eyes moved to Peggy as she leaned in to kiss Bucky's forehead.

It was an undeniable real sign of affection from a woman who gave those out sparingly. Steve felt successful if he got a smile, or a touch. He didn't know if he'd ever seen Peggy so easily affectionate with anyone else before.

He'd known that they'd stayed together during the war. During the time that he wasn't there. That they had become close friends, united in their loss, but as Peggy pulled back a part of him couldn't help but wonder if there had been more.

"When's the last time you slept?" Steve asked, trying to shake those thoughts and focus in on a pale looking Bucky in front of him. Now seemed as good a time as any to address it. Especially since his mind could use a distraction from the questions that had suddenly sprouted inside of it.

"Yes, ma'am." Bucky actually relaxed for a moment, at the reprimand. Sometimes, his head played tricks on him - but Peggy wouldn't steer him wrong. If she dismissed the apology, then it hadn't been one of the too-bad ones, right?

Yet something kept nagging at him, a tension around him that didn't dissipate with the remnants of the dream.

And then Steve spoke again.

Bucky knew all his tells, after all. He sat up straight, whipcord straight, focusing on his friend. "Steve..."

Question. There had been a question.

"... just now, I guess. But if you mean proper sleep, like, six to eight hours uninterrupted..." He raked his fingers back through his hair, making it stick out a little. "Two weeks or so." And that had been one night, after a few bad ones before that.

"You're an idiot, Barnes." But she meant that with an overwhelming amount of affection and none of it was hidden. They needed to talk. It was insane to imagine they could stay within each other's close company without ever addressing any of the very real troubles they all held.

James was not the only one sleeping poorly.

Steve had slipped into his captain persona like the flick of a switch and that was troubling enough without observing the way it effected James as well.

No, they had to talk. They'd been avoiding the most difficult conversations far too long.

"If no one has any objections, I'll go downstairs and start the car."

Steve was able to dismiss his thoughts with merely a troubled conscience, at least up until the moment that Bucky's attention had focused in on him with a laser like precision. His name was all he needed to know that not only was Bucky aware of what had slipped through his mind, but that there was something to it.

Steve's expression closed off as he nodded mechanically to Bucky's confession about lack of sleep and Peggy's assessment that he was an idiot.

"She's right," Steve said, though there wasn't much of his usual humor in it. He turned towards Peggy, his eyes moving over her expression briefly before nodding again. "Sure."

Normally, especially in this cold weather, he would've volunteered to go downstairs and start the car in her stead, but right now he wanted a moment alone with his best friend.

Despite himself, a small smile tugged the corners of Bucky's mouth up. "That's been mentioned, especially by people who know what they're talking about." Deep breath. "Thanks, Peggy."

Then he held his breath, turning to his oldest friend, his eyes glittering a little. Not defiant, no. There was nothing to feel proud and defiant over; it had hurt every step of the way, but she'd been one of the only things holding him together, her, and his refusal to give up on the thought of finding Steve. And he'd not been the only one with a huge gap in his life, the other a lifeline to better times. (He'd only been the one who had to aspire to be good enough for the other, even a little.)

Anything he might say was hard enough, so he went for blunt.

... no, actually, he went for jumping to conclusions.

"I can go away, if you want."

Steve furrowed his brow, taking a moment to stare long and hard at Bucky before shaking his head.

"No." There was no room left for argument. In fact, if his tone was any indication the mere idea of Bucky leaving made Steve furious. He clenched his jaw and locked his gaze on the window where he could see Peggy stepping out into the snow.He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"So you two..." He couldn't seem to finish that question. He didn't want to know, but Bucky's statement had already answered it, hadn't it?

He glanced back at Bucky. "How long?"

Bucky wasn't sure if it was relief or disappointment he felt, at the firm denial. It was a snap inside his chest, anyway. Whatever else, it also meant that his best friend wasn't kicking him out of his life, and, willing as Bucky had been to offer that, if it was too much to handle, this response gave him... hope.

He hunched in on himself, some of the tension draining, and rubbed his eyes with his hand.

"Not very long. At least not past... a few kisses, at any rate. Somebody like her deserves a lifelong dedication, anyway."

And you can give her that. Bucky was only part of a person, anyway. Though Peggy was the reason why he wasn't even more fractured, even more broken.

"And nothing after we found you. It's..." Ever so slowly, his eyes finally found their way to Steve's face. Tired, torn. He didn't know how to both love Peggy and not hurt Steve. Because if there was one person he cared for more than for her, definitely more than for himself...

That was Steve.

"You know I'd never set out to steal your girl, right?" It was a stupid question. It didn't in any way cover what he felt, what he needed or wanted to say, what Steve needed to hear, hell, he had no idea what that was, but he knew there had to be something. But that's what came out, and it was true.

Someone like her. Steve stared at his best friend. The one he thought he'd lost forever and tried to work out what it was that he thought he deserved.

Steve's mouth tightened, his shoulders tense as he listened to Bucky go on. He wasn't angry at the fact that they'd kissed. It was unexpected and it did give rise to an unexpected pang of jealousy, but just because the only kiss he'd known had been a goodbye kiss. Too short. Too late.

He had wanted so much more. And when he'd woken up in that recovery room he had thought that he would have a second chance at that. That they would simply pick things up where they'd left off, but things hadn't been that easy. Peggy and Bucky had been through things that he couldn't comprehend. As much as no one actually talked about it, he was aware that in some ways they couldn't help but move on without him.

Steve met Bucky's gaze and held it for a moment before breaking it. He swallowed. "You thought I was dead."

It's difficult to tell if it's a pardon or an explanation. But he understands. It just doesn't make the disappointment sting any less. Still, this isn't Bucky's fault and it's unfair to lay it on his shoulders.

Steve moves to a chair and drops into it, his shoulders rolling back, hands going limp on his lap. His voice is lower - resigned - though he can't quite bring himself to look back over at Bucky. "I would've wanted you to look after each other."

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath.

"No. If I thought you were dead, I wouldn't've been lookin'." That wasn't it, not really, and his head was spinning with the need to define what it was. Air burned in his lungs with each inhalation, but he just. Kept pressing that. Until, quiet and drained, it spilled out.

"You weren't there." It wasn't an accusation, even though Bucky had needed him, so painfully. It wasn't an explanation, either, because while some of the closeness between him and Peggy had been because of the gaping, hurting hole in the lives of both of them, that wasn't all of it, either. It was just as close as he could get. Steve... how much he meant for both of them. It had been a part of it.

"But looking after each other was a part of it, too. Mostly her looking after me, but..."

But, the rare times when Bucky could look at it without crushing self-contempt and self-deprecation, he knew that his own stubbornness, the way he tenuously didn't let go, had also given strength to Peggy, in turn. He didn't have the gift of hope that Steve did. But not giving up until he'd won, or lost for good against overwhelming odds? Yeah, that was something the two of them had in common. And Bucky was proud of it... and he thought that Peggy liked it, too. It was what he brought to the table, in his mind.

Seeing Steve like this, however, twisted Bucky's guilt inside his gut, and spurred him into action. Slow, careful. Uncertain, even, because he wasn't sure if Steve wanted him anywhere near, but he stumbled over to Steve's chair, put his hand on his friend's shoulder, and squeezed, slightly.

"Steve, I... Don't wanna go away, either, now that you're here." He wanted to, out of guilt and shame and not being good enough, but, underneath that, he wanted to cling, to never let go. The latter was stronger. "I dunno how to set things for all of us right. But, whatever it takes, I'll do it. I'll find a way." He held his breath. "We'll find a way."

It's the way that he says it that manages to drag Steve out of his own disappointment and the amplified feeling of loss that comes from losing over a year with your best girl and your best guy. Even if Bucky doesn't say that he needed him, Steve can hear it in his voice. He can see it on his face and it breaks his heart.

He would've given anything to have been there when they'd found Bucky. To stand by him as he recovered. To make him see that things were going to be alright. But he hadn't been. He'd been buried under ice. Somewhere he'd gone willingly, not just because there was no other way. But because, if he was honest with himself, he didn't know if he could live with the guilt of living without Bucky. It had been his choice to go out that way. He still wasn't sure in his heart if it had been the bravest one.

Bucky's hand was heavy on Steve's shoulder. Heavy with the weight of knowing that Bucky would give up the one person who had helped him through this terrible time. Would walk away from Peggy if that was what Steve wanted. And even if there was an echo of that old resigned voice that told him Bucky could have any girl he wanted, he knew that wasn't the truth anymore. Not only because the war had changed all of them, made them stronger and weaker by turns, but because this girl was Peggy Carter. She wasn't the type to be had, unless she wanted to be.

Steve pushed up, against the weight of Bucky's hand. Once he was on his feet he reached out to grab Bucky's arm, squeezing it. "Bucky, listen to me. If you ever talk about leaving again, I will deck you so hard, you'll think you're Hitler."

Steve raised his eyebrows and waited for Bucky to acknowledge this before patting him on the arm. He forced a smile. "It's fine. We're fine."

And that's why Bucky wasn't accusing him, when he said that Steve hadn't been there. He knew that he'd have wanted to be, more than anything, and he knew the choice Steve had made. The lives of millions against the lives of two.

Or three, though Steve hadn't known that, at the time. Bucky fully realized that, were Steve faced with that choice again, now, knowing what he did, he'd have made it again, anyway. Because some things were more important. Because, whatever chance there was at happiness, knowing it was at the cost of millions of innocents who never had a chance to protect themselves? Steve Rogers could never live with that. It would eat him on the inside until there was only a husk of the man Bucky cared for left, and even that would...

He didn't know. But he knew it had been the only choice Steve could have taken, and the only choice he could still take.

Bucky looked up in the blue blue eyes, clouded with truth, and anger, and suppressing hurt for Bucky's sake, and--

He probably wouldn't have done it if he wasn't already tired, and the firmness hadn't worked like cutting his strings. He didn't stagger, but only because Steve was already there for him. Instead, he stepped closer and wrapped his arm around Steve, and squeezed, tucking his head against the blond's shoulder.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Came out muffled against Steve's shirt, and sort of warbling, but it was his attempt at a joke when he really... didn't have anything left to power it with.

They weren't fine. Not yet. But Steve didn't hate him over it, and that was like. Like the fucking sun shining through the storm clouds, so he held on. Maybe only for a moment, but he didn't have the right words to tell Steve how much that meant to him. Instead of trying, and making it worse, he clung.

The hug took Steve by surprise. It wasn't that they had ever been short on signs of affection. Steve's memories always featured him and Bucky side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Arms slung over shoulders, propping one another up when one had too much to drink or was too weak to get around on their own. Touching wasn't something that was unusual, but hugging was reserved for time spent apart. Or worse, a substitute for a real goodbye. It was their way of saying I miss you and I love you and Try not to get into any trouble without me.

Still, it didn't take him more than a second to respond to it, wrapping his arms around a Bucky and hugging him back. So maybe things were more complicated than he'd anticipated. Maybe there were some things that needed to be worked through. A future that needed to be readjusted to. None of that mattered as long as Bucky was here. Steve held on too, closing his eyes and burying his face against Bucky's neck. He held on long enough to say everything he couldn't and then pulled back, clearing his throat.

"We should get downstairs, before she sends a squad after us."

Edited 2014-02-25 23:13 (UTC)

"Yeah. Yeah, let's do that."

A great deal of the tension that had ridden the younger man had drained, with the conversation - the wordless part included - and the only reason he wasn't stumbling with the exhaustion that had gotten him to fall asleep in the first place was that he was walking a little slower than usual, taking care. He had no wish to rush out and make a mess, well, more of a mess than things were, right now. So he worked on careful.

He slipped into the backseat of the car, giving Peggy a small smile. "One day, we'll figure out a way to make it up for all your patience." Quiet, self-mocking, and poignant. Because she had been more than patient with the two of them, over and over again.

The part he didn't realize? The 'we'. It was so automatic and normal that Bucky didn't register the implications, right there.

Peggy drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, a swift nervous beat as she waited for one or both of her immensely stubborn, frustrating men left the building. That both emerged side-by-side was a dizzying relief. Peggy rested her forward against the steering wheel and took a steadying breath. She had no doubt the discussion was far from over. That James would try and leave again wasn't even a question. He would. He would likely insist upon it again that very day. But she and Steve would make it painfully apparent how little that idea appealed to them.

And then there was Steve.

Peggy glanced over her shoulder in amusement as James slid into the back and spoke.

"I have no doubt you will."

Steve took the passenger seat, still more than a little overwhelmed by what had transpired upstairs. He was still trying to deal with the realization that Bucky and Peggy had been there for each other when he couldn't be. A part of him was glad that they'd carried on without him, but it was still a blow he hadn't been expecting.

He glanced over at Peggy, taking in her amused look at Bucky and feeling his heart constrict the tiniest bit. You know I'd never set out to steal your girl, right? Bucky's words echoed in his mind. He swallowed and focused on the street ahead of him.

"There's that place four blocks up. They've got good coffee."

Bucky let a quiet breath, something inside him whiplashing between Peggy's smile and tease, and Steve's... as much of Steve's stunned face as he could see. Between warmth, and a chasm opening at the tip of his toes that - he's not afraid to leap into, not even after everything, but he didn't know how to help his friend away from.

Bucky'd dug most of the damn thing himself, after all.

"Yeah, that sounds good," he found himself saying without fully paying attention, and hunched a bit, in the seat where Steve could see him, if he wanted to, rather than sitting at his blind spot. He'd done plenty enough of that, hadn't he?

"All right then." Peggy drove in the heated silence of unshared thoughts as she merged through traffic. They could have walked, but that would have, quite possibly, been even worse than sitting in deadened silence and listening to everyone breathe in time to their own desperately spiraling thoughts.

She pressed on the breaks suddenly and pulled onto the curb and twisted in her seat to glare at the both of them.

"Talk. Whatever it is, whatever is not being said, simply say it because this is insanity, you both realize."

Steve's hand shot out to brace himself as Peggy threw on the brakes. He was sure that something was wrong. That they were under attack or she'd seen something they needed to be a part of. What he hadn't expected was for her to turn and glare at them.

He opened and closed his mouth, unable to form words for a moment. His expression struggled to stay neutral but it betrayed him, his brow furrowing slightly.

"I know you two..." He paused trying to find the right words. Not easy under Peggy's gaze. He pressed his lips together. "I know you moved on without me." He glanced back at Bucky and then at Peggy his expression softening. "It's what I would've wanted. I'm okay with it."

And he if wasn't right this moment he would be.

Bucky hissed, as his distracted state meant he caught the back of Peggy's seat with his stump, but his glare was saved for Steve, even if it was clearly more grumpy for the surprise pain than for the nonsense that Steve was spouting.

A little more, anyway.

"Rogers, which part of spending the better part of two years practically living in eternal winterland to make sure we found you sounds to you like moving on?"

His shoulders slumped further, and he looked out the window, again.

"I almost wish I could've wanted what happened any less. But I don't, and I didn't. And there's a world of difference between what you would've wanted and what you do want and I know you're hurtin'. And that's the part I truly do regret."

He didn't take a breath to say that he wished, sometimes, when Steve was taking a bullet for him, like right now? He wished he hadn't made his way back to London. Maybe it would have been better for everybody... but he was dead certain that he'd get yelled by both the people in the car for even thinking it.

"It doesn't matter, because what happened, happened, and there isn't a damn thing either of your apologies can do to change it."

Peggy shot both of them a nasty glare for taking her out of this equation like she'd been a doll shoved between two feuding children. She felt a pang of guilt for harming James physically in her haste to make the two of them spit out the real problem, but it was vastly overshadowed by the swampy guilt they seemed to be mired in.

"What I want to know," she started in a much gentler tone, "is what we plan to do about it now?"

The urge to lie was so strong as he looked back at Bucky. To tell him he wasn't hurting. That none of it mattered. But he knew that these were maybe the only two people in the world who had always and would always see right through him.

Instead he glanced out the window, trying to fight the urge to slip out the door and walk back to the apartment. He needed some time to process all of it. Some time where he could figure out what they needed from him and what he could give without giving away the conflicted feelings of love, jealousy, guilt and loss that he felt in the pit of his stomach.

"I don't know," he said, forcing himself to look back at them. "I don't want to change anything you two have. I love..." He paused, his eyes meeting Peggy's. "I love both of you. And if you've found a way to make each other happy, I don't want to stand in the way of that."

Bucky was well enough aware that hearing those words shouldn't feel like a physical blow. They were simple enough. I love you. Even I love you both wasn't something that he didn't know.

And, yet.

God, he was such a mess, and he was bringing the other two down, and they wouldn't let him just leave, and - and he knew that, even if he tried, they'd seek him, no less hard than he and Peggy had searched for Steve. And he wasn't sure that - were he to leave - the people who'd brought him back wouldn't nab him away, again. This time for good. And, hard as this was, he didn't want to go back to them.

"You're not standing in the way of anyone." His voice was hoarse, and the words were almost automatic, but he had to. Had to give Steve whatever reassurance he could. If it even mattered. "I. Can we just go try to eat or something? I'm not sure if keeping on talkin' right now will leave us fit to show ourselves anywhere."

She wanted to ask him if he would keep that promise. If he wasn't suffering insomnia, he was hardly eating and this was a mess and she knew it. But it was the sort of mess she fully intended to pick up and help fix, however she could. Peggy eased the car back onto the street fueled by stubborn silence.

Luckily, or perhaps, unluckily the diner was not that far and by the time they arrived the silence had begun to stretch from stubborn to awkward and if something didn't change soon it would become quite sad.

"We're here."

Now the real question was, did they actually plan to get out of the vehicle?

Edited 2015-01-08 03:04 (UTC)

It was more than uncomfortable. It was a new kind of hell. How could Steve be with two of the most important people in his life and still suddenly feel so all alone? He wondered briefly as he watched a family of four enter through the diner door in front of them if it might have been better if they hadn't found him.

Except, of course he knew actually voicing a thought like that would get him a slap if not something more. He was feeling sorry for himself when he had survived the war with most of the men he'd fought with, save the Howling Commandos, didn't. Bucky was alive, if not completely whole, and Peggy... Peggy was getting that look in her eye that said she might start firing bullets if someone didn't pull themselves together.

It wouldn't be the first time he swallowed down his pride and it wouldn't be the last. But he could do it for their sakes. He reached for the door handle and pushed it open with a creak. He stepped out and looked at Peggy over the hood of the car.

"Bacon isn't still being rationed, is it?"

It didn't quite come out as smooth as he would've wanted it, but maybe it would break up some of the tenseness.

Peggy had some very good points, there, but Bucky just wasn't up to thinking about any of them, not just now. He closed his eyes, planted his forehead in the back of Steve's seat, and let the time pass. He spilled out of the car with some clumsiness, but not enough to make people stare because of his missing arm, and he was avoiding looking at either of the other two when Steve's question came and he had to turn and stare and the blond punk.

"No. I think they'll manage to scrounge up enough to feed you."

His voice was still scraping, but it was. Surprising him how easily the jab came to his mind, to his lips. He almost spoke about Steve's skinny ass, but that wasn't exactly the case anymore, not that some days either of them remembered that, technically. He shook his head, and then actually managed some semblance of a smile.

"I hear their eggs are even fresh, too."

It was a good diner, okay? And, there, Peggy. Your boys were at least trying to make the effort.

"And the coffee is real," she adds. And unbelievably sweet now that sugar is no longer being rationed. It's a luxury. One they're all readjusting to. Peggy settled herself firmly between her boys, Barnes on her right, Rogers to her left. She links her arm through Steve's and draws him in close to her side even as she inches in closer to James, carefully masking the way his sleeve is knotted up near the shoulder, careful to make it not immediately obvious what has happened to him until it was no longer possible.

A mask of normalcy none of them ever had.

Words cannot express how grateful she is that they're making the effort.

Actions will speak far greater when they return to their flat.

Steve lets out a slow breath and when he grins at the two of them it's not forced. This isn't the way he pictured things being, but then again when he was going down in the plane he didn't picture anything. This was preferable by far.

"Sounds like things are taking the right kind of turn."

He squeeze's Peggy's arm slightly, a silent apology of sorts before heading towards the diner door. He opens it and holds it for the both of them, waiting until they pass before following them inside. There is a long counter and a line of booths along the wall. Having to work out seating arrangements and what they might mean gives him a headache, so he's relieved when the only seats available are at the counter.

Bucky falls in beside her at the hint almost automatically. They've never in any way been public about the affection that they allowed to fill up a fraction of the emptiness beside them, but there have been habits that they developed. Like Peggy allowing him a little bit of dignity in front of strangers (maybe it only works from the front, but that doesn't matter - the thought counts). Like sometimes compensating for his missing arm, and sometimes leaving him work it on his own.

But it's different now, with Steve's step solid on her other side, with his voice, still concerned but lighter. Like his almost palpable relief at not having to aggravate things more when he doesn't want to.

Bucky lets Peggy take a seat first, and then slips to her right lightly.

"I really need that coffee, clearly."

Or maybe not, but he's really ashamed of falling asleep on them, so... Coffee.

The band that had been tightening and pressing down on her chest eased with that smile. Peggy wanted to tug them down and kiss them both. There was no reason for this to be awkward. Any fool-headed idiot knew Steve and James had been in love for practically forever, except, perhaps, themselves. And had Peggy been a bigger woman, or less entrenched in both, she would let them be.

It would be the easy path.

But none of them were overly fond of the easy path.

Peggy lifts her hand and flags down Angie, and near instantly regrets it. The look she receives for the seating arrangement. She let's out a silent breath and tries not to meet either man's eye while not ducking her head in embarrassment either.

"Well, hello," the waitress says, raising her eyebrows and giving Peggy a small smirk as she looks at first Steve and then Bucky. "What can I get you three?"

"Coffee and a plate of bacon," Steve says with a small grin, he glances at his two companions.

"You want any eggs with that bacon?" The waitress asks after scribbling it down.

"Are they fresh?" Steve asks, not looking over at Bucky.

The waitress grins and nods. "Oh yeah, our cook Bob laid them this morning."

"I'll take two over easy," Steve said. He smiled in thanks at the waitress and looked at Peggy and Bucky. Maybe it was being surrounded by people in the crowded diner or the fact that the idea of the two of them was getting easier to take, but he was beginning to feel a little bit normal. One minute at a time.

Bucky's smile isn't quite what it used to be, but - over the months - he's learned to get by as he is now. And that means to pretend that things are how they used to be, even for little bits at a time. His eyebrows go up in a friendly manner.

"Double that coffee, sweetheart. You got any pancakes goin' this morning?"

"Sure do. Bacon for you, too?"

"Sausages. Please. I'd ask for extra syrup, but I don't think this place has any trouble with bein' sweet enough."

The waitress actually blushes, and Bucky moderates his smirk to avoid evoking her wrath, instead. He likes the good mood plenty better. Then he leans back, letting Peggy take her pick, too. Maybe he's going to deflate with the effort of brightness and normalcy as soon as the woman's back is turned, but, for now, the knowledge that he can at least fake it still? Is good to him.

"Just coffee, Angie. Thank you." Peggy waits until Angie stops looking at her like she hardly knows her before pressing her fingers to her lips. She isn't ashamed. It's...honestly hard to say what she's feeling at the moment. She glances at Steve, who seems to be slowly easing into the idea of being out again, and then at James who's smirk shrunk the moment Angie had turned her back and she frankly hadn't the slightest idea what to say to fill that void.

Steve watches the waitress blush and turns his head slightly to hide a smile. For a moment Bucky almost sounds like the old him, the one before the war, but then the moment's over and Steve can't only see him deflate but he can feel it too.

It must be exhausting, pretending everything's okay for the sake of strangers and maybe even for Steve himself. He doesn't think that even Bucky would dare lie to Peggy, so at least there's one person Bucky can be honest with, but that doesn't do much to make Steve feel better.

As much as he wants to pretend everything is okay, he can't forget the reason they're here. He also feels like Bucky may not take it the best if any kind of reproach comes from him right now. So he tries to do it as gently as he can.

"So if you're not sleeping at night, what are you doing?"

Bucky's eyes shoot Peggy over the modest order, and linger on her face for a moment in concern, before he nods slightly, mostly to himself. When his order arrives, he'll be putting it just angled enough so that she'll know that she can pick on some of the food, too. She's done that, before, even if it surprised him the first few times. Now it only takes a moment for him to remember.

Then his eyes turn to Steve, and there's some self-mockery there, there's little guilt, per se.

"Used to sometimes just curl up and try not to think. Then - we were lookin', there were always things to go over again, maps, new ways to try and triangulate the location.

"Now I... try to read. And go for runs." Physical activity doesn't quite shut up his mind, but it helps, a little. The awareness that, even though short a limb, he's not helpless or weak - that also helps. Not enough.

Things that are conspicuously missing from the list - keeping Peggy awake (before or now). Praying.

Drinking.

Anything that would wake either of the other two up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Revelations. For onthedot and oldfashionedhero

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