[ Steve knew in the back of his mind that Bucky would be okay out there. The logical part of his brain knew that he'd be fine, even if the worst possible outcome happened to the rest of the team out there. In a lot of ways, they'd both been taking care of themselves for long before all this. The emotional part was caught up in his own demons.
"We can go home." Peggy's voice still ringing in his ears. It'd felt so real. It's not like they've really had a break since then. Ultron was still out there. Still plotting and planning with the Avengers as his focal point of rage. He had to swallow it down as best he could, keep moving, and keep going. There was too much at stake.
By the time it's all said and done? Exhaustion doesn't cover it. Away from the cameras and news crews trying to get a picture or record a few words, he feels heavy. It's bone-deep and aching through him and his chest feels tight with emotion reminiscent when he used to have attacks before all this. He drops the shield to the bed, slowly working off his gloves where they join it, and wiping a hand through the sweat and grime on his face.
His ma used to fuss and make hot water bowls from the kettle on the stove and make him sit there with a towel over his head. Bucky would sit with him when he could've been out with anybody else, never listened when Steve would insist he go on without him. He could always catch up later. There's a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye and looks up sharply, tense but the added adrenaline at this point barely does a thing. "Imagine it."
He doesn't have to. He already knows what it looks like. ]
( for lednikovyy. ) "π'π’ ππ€π’π."
"We can go home." Peggy's voice still ringing in his ears. It'd felt so real. It's not like they've really had a break since then. Ultron was still out there. Still plotting and planning with the Avengers as his focal point of rage. He had to swallow it down as best he could, keep moving, and keep going. There was too much at stake.
By the time it's all said and done? Exhaustion doesn't cover it. Away from the cameras and news crews trying to get a picture or record a few words, he feels heavy. It's bone-deep and aching through him and his chest feels tight with emotion reminiscent when he used to have attacks before all this. He drops the shield to the bed, slowly working off his gloves where they join it, and wiping a hand through the sweat and grime on his face.
His ma used to fuss and make hot water bowls from the kettle on the stove and make him sit there with a towel over his head. Bucky would sit with him when he could've been out with anybody else, never listened when Steve would insist he go on without him. He could always catch up later. There's a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye and looks up sharply, tense but the added adrenaline at this point barely does a thing. "Imagine it."
He doesn't have to. He already knows what it looks like. ]
Buck.