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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"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.

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Revelations. For onthedot and oldfashionedhero

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