revivalproject | 02| Steve is an idiot

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02| Steve is an idiot

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: In a cave, in a storm, and Network. Kinda.
WHAT: Being stupid, mostly
WHEN: Once the storm starts moving
WARNINGS: Nope

Steve crouches in the cave, nursing a nasty wound he took to his side. The medical information he has from the data point is telling him how to fix it but he's lost a little bit of blood and there's no super-human healing factor that is making up for it. The wound is also in such an awkward spot that Steve can barely even look at it properly, let alone do sutures. He moves further into the cave, feeling marginally better as he does so. Maybe getting away from the storm will stop its effects on him? It is worth a chance until he can concentrate enough to stitch. Or, maybe, he will find someone there who can do it for him...

The storm is moving. Steve can barely see straight, he's so close to the center of the storm, but he can tell its moving. And, honestly, if it weren't moving toward Temba, he'd be glad to see the back of it. As it is, he knows there isn't much time. The city is still so fragile and barely back together enough for it to really take a storm like this. Not to mention the people waiting, back there. People who thought they'd be safely away from this madness and were going to be badly surprised.

Steve races back to his ship. He's not a pilot, though, so the controls are a mystery to him. He grumbles and scowls, feeling impotent before taking his comm up and hitting the network.

This is Steve Rogers of the Bishop. If there are any pilots out there, we need to get back to Temba. I'm looking for a ride and anyone else who wants to help prepare the city.

It's not the first person he's seen in the fog. Steve has been seeing these ghosts for the whole storm. People he knew. People he didn't know. People who had disappeared from here and people who had faces similar to the ones here. He'd managed mostly to ignore them all but this. This was different. This was out of his memories both from home and from before. It's enough to stop him in his tracks, storm be damned.

The Winter Soldier. Not Bucky. No. He'd refused that name. He'd refused any name at all. But there he was in his black armor, arm shining in a sun that wasn't here. He looks straight at Steve, face hard. For a second there is a moment when Steve forgets he is a ghost and almost braces for a fight. But the ghost turns and walks away. He turns, once, to glance back, and then continues walking.

And Steve, damn himself, follows.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bucky is not actually averse to being pulled inside the ship and having one laid on him - not in the least, because right now he'd like to get as up close and personal with Steve as possible, because he needs to know that Steve is really here, and not just a face in the mist. And he needs to know that Steve is okay, aside from being an incurable idiot.

Bucky's fine - dirty, a little scraped up maybe, and tired, but fine. None of which is enough to keep his eyes from homing in on that bloody rip in Steve's shirt - followed by his hands, touch deceptively gentle, trying to pull the shirt aside and see what happened.

"Not as often as I'd like. Lemme see these stitches."

Edited 2020-03-11 03:18 (UTC)

Steve rolls his eyes, already preparing for the argument they're going to have. But even with that, his irritation is fond. This is familiar. This is both of them in a grimy flat in Brooklyn. Steve knows better than to think that he's going get away without Bucky inspecting his battlefield patch job. He also knows better than to think he's going to like it.

"I had a kid do it in the cave so don't expect it to be professional."

His shirt is already ripped to death so Steve just pulls it off and lets the wound go on full display. It's ugly and jagged. Without the serum, it's barely even healed and the uneven stitching is coming apart in places leaving gaps between the torn flesh. It's hot to the touch already, red and puffy with the start of an infection.

All of which will go away the second his serum takes effect.

"It's fine. You know it'll be fine. This is just to stop the bleeding."

Yeah, Bucky does not like it. At all.

His face goes dark and serious as soon as Steve peels off the tattered shirt and he lays eyes on the extent of the wound. That is the kind of wound he's seen kill men in Europe, and the fact that he's seeing it on Steve, right now, twists his stomach up with pieces of glass.

"Fucking hell, Steve," he says quietly, and it takes effort to drag his gaze away from the mess and up to Steve's face. "It's not fucking fine, I leave you alone for two fucking seconds - "

It's been a lot more than two seconds, and Bucky knew better, should've know Steve wasn't going to take care of himself. Should've known Steve would bank on the serum - or, worse, just not care either way, which is probably more the truth of the matter, it always was - and they can't be sure it's going to come back as soon as they get the hell out of here.

But it's their best bet, so that's what they're going to do. Right the fuck now.

"Are we taking your ship or mine?" he asks, voice still quiet and terse, because there is so much he wants to say, but it won't do any good and Steve needs the serum or a doctor right now. First thing's first. "Because we are leaving. Now."

Bucky doesn't look happy and Steve can't blame him. "It was the storm. It kicked up a rock and..." Steve mimes how it slit across his side. It had been so sharp, Steve wonders what would have happened if it had been just a little more to the left. Would it have speared him?

It wasn't worth thinking about.

"Let's take this ship. You're already inside."

Steve presses a few buttons to ready it for departure. He wants to go but he also doesn't. Steve's seen this face before and knows Bucky is gonna have it out with him the second the ship is airborne. He can only put it off for so long.

Bucky just lets out a slow sigh. A rock. That's... well, it is what it is. He's not sure if it's better or worse than getting hurt in a fight, but it doesn't matter, anyway.

He just wants to get Steve out of here and see if he can kick-start the stupid serum. (Thank God for that serum, despite everything. Thank for for Abraham Erskine.) And if not... if not, they are going straight to Temba if he has to land in the middle of a fucking tornado.

He nods curtly, sitting down at the controls, and nodding his head pointedly toward the nearest place to sit down and strap in. "Gonna try to get us up above the storm, at least. Strap in. I mean it."

Steve doesn't dare ignore Bucky's requests right now. He nods in return and walks over to the seat indicated so he can strap himself in and get ready to get out of this storm.

"We need to get back to town. I talked to some people, there. Sounds like they're doing alright batting down Temba for the storm. Still, we need to get there as soon as we can to help out. If our powers are back out of this mess, we can lift some of the heavy stuff and maybe block off anything a ghost would try to walk us off."

Bucky might be a little smugly satisfied that Steve does as he's told, but mostly he's just worried and he wants this to work. The only way to find out is to get out of here, so he gets to work, and soon the little ship is lifting off, battered by the winds. It's not easy, and the ride isn't going to be smooth, but Bucky can do this if he has to do it out of sheer determination. Fuck this storm, it is not taking Steve from him with a fucking rock.

Besides... it's not a bad idea Steve's got. "Yeah," Bucky says absently, and he means it, for all that he's a little distracted with guiding the ship through the wind and rain and lightning, trying to get above it and feeling like he's fighting for every inch they rise. "I think you're right. We're not doing any good out here. I think we can be of better use in the city. Especially if this fucking storm hasn't hit it yet."

Because if it might... then they need to be prepared. "How're you feeling?"

They're not really above the storm yet, still bouncing around the sky, but it's slowly, slowly getting easier to gain altitude, even if it's still a fight every step of the way.

The bouncing fucking hurts. And worse than that, it pulls some of his stitches. Not all the way out but enough that he is definitely bleeding again and it's concerning enough that Steve has to hope his powers come back soon. Otherwise Bucky is going to kill him himself. For the moment, Steve just balls up the ripped fabric of his shirt and presses it into the wound so the blood doesn't become overly visible. When Bucky asks him how he's feeling, his smile is tight.

"I mean. I'm not dead, so that's a good thing." He laughs for exactly the amount of time it takes from that statement to his brain catching up and realizing it isn't funny. "I'm holding in."

He lifts his hand and peeks at his wound. It's hard to tell if it's better or worse but the blood isn't pouring out like it had before so that has to be something. "I think the distance is helping."

Steve's lucky, in a way, because maneuvering the ship is hard enough at this point that all of Bucky's attention is on that, and he doesn't have time to spare to look back at Steve.

But it doesn't mean Bucky can't hear that tight little smile in Steve's voice. And it doesn't make Steve's joke any better, but then, that always was Steve - gallows humor and all. Bucky doesn't mind that as much as he could.

"Okay," he says, and his voice is still tight, but there's a distinct note of relief under it. "Okay, then I'm gonna keep taking us up." Because he's not stupid, and he can imagine how this feels for Steve. But if it's worth it, if it's going to get them above whatever is dampening Steve's healing factor, then he's going to keep going. "Tell me if it gets worse. Don't you fucking sit there and weather it. S'gonna be another few minutes before we're out."

But then he puts his all back into pushing the ship as hard as he can to break above the storm. They've got to be almost there.

The higher they go, the more Steve feels like maybe his powers are coming back online. Not all of it and definitely not the full strength. But some bruises on his arm are yellowing now when before they'd been an angry purple. And his side is definitely not bleeding as bad as it could with a ripped stitch. Once they're out of the storm, he will probably be right as rain.

At least physically and at least until Bucky boxed his ears.

"It's getting better," he informed his boyfriend after a moment or two. "I think my side will patch up once we're over this. No need to re-stitch."

Bucky thinks he might be feeling a little better, too - it's subtle, but some of the exhaustion starts to ebb, some of the soreness slipping out of his bones. He doesn't want to think too hard about it, though, because if he's just making it up... if he's just making it up, then none of this is helping Steve.

But then Steve speaks up, and Bucky lets out a breath as his shoulders sag. His eyes even flutter shut for a moment, gratitude in every inch of him - but he can't just relax, they're still in the storm, even if they're finally gaining altitude reliably.

"Okay," he says, and this time it's a little less tight, some of that relief slipping through into his voice. "I'm gonna keep going up. If I have to put us in fuckin' orbit..." Honestly, that seems like the best choice. It'll be far enough above the storm that it will give Steve time to heal. Because yes, Bucky wants to get back to Temba, but Steve's never been good at sitting still when people need his help. And even Steve is going to need a couple of hours at least to heal reliably enough from this to move around without tearing his side open again, stitches or no.

So they keep rising; eventually, they break out of the swirling stormclouds, and Bucky keeps them moving up, until the lighter blue sky starts to fade into navy, and then black, and the curvature of the planet starts to stretch out beneath them. It's honestly a beautiful sight, except for the boiling, churning clouds they're leaving behind, which stretch... farther than Bucky would like to see, even if things do finally seem to be loosing steam.

He gets them into a low orbit, and then he lets himself slump over the controls a little, not looking back at Steve just yet as he starts to fumble with his own harness one-handed. "Better?"

The orbit helps. The minute they break out of the clouds, it's like a flood of something fills his veins. It makes him feel stronger and more complete. But, better than that, it makes him feel like he's finally healing, again. The dizziness from bloodloss is at least vanishing by the second. And the bruises on his arms are fading away as he watches them. Steve's side, though, must have been worse than he thought because the ripped stitches still look pretty bad. At least it's not bleeding.

"Yeah, better." He undoes his strap once the ship is level and pulls his shirt completely off. Bucky would insist on an inspection eventually and Steve's shirt was torn and filthy anyways. Still, he balls it up and holds it against his side as casually as he can.

"I'm gonna head off to our room to put something else on," he tries to explain, already backing away toward the hallway. "Be back in sec, sweetheart."

Bucky scrambles to engage the autopilot and get up out of his chair, one hand scrabbling at Steve's arm. "Yeah, fuck that."

He takes one look at Steve's face - and then at the shirt balled up against the ugly wound on his side - and sighs. "Look," he says quietly, "I don't - I know I can't change what happened. But I can make sure you don't deal with it alone. There's no one else on the ship; let's just go take a shower so I can clean that out and we can both clean off and put on something else."

He wants to yell, he does - but he knows that yelling won't help. It's just going to be him letting off steam, and Steve doesn't need that shit right now. He can keep it to himself, because the truth is, he'd rather have Steve here and not yell at him than no Steve and the ability to scream so loud the entire universe can hear him.

Steve can hear the anger in Bucky's voice even as he holds it back. He steps in closer and wraps one arm around his waist to just hold him for a second, pressing a kiss to Bucky's temple. "Mixed messages, Buck. Mad at me and then getting me naked and in the shower?"

He means it as a joke but it's not really funny. Steve sighs and offers Bucky a smile as he takes his hand to lead them both off toward the showers. He lets the shirt fall and the wound is still angry but the edges are healing.

"Thanks. For not punching me yet."

"I can be mad at you and attracted to you at the same time. I'm multitalented like that," Bucky grumbles, trying not to melt into Steve's arm wrapped around him, but feeling the war inside of him between adrenaline-fueled tension and pure relief that Steve's here and the serum seems to be working. He feels like if he lets himself come down from the anger too fast, he's just going to crumble in on himself, and that is not a thing he ever wants Steve to see.

But he does see that Steve's side is looking better, and he sighs, with a soft, "Detour by the kitchen first. Lemme just cut the rest of those fucking stitches before you heal over 'em." Besides - he huffs. "That'll probably sting more than punching, anyway." He knows Steve can't be overly comfortable right now. And healing sometimes gets a little worse before it gets better, depending. At least, it does for Bucky. Things get really itchy, and then they sting like a raw sunburn, before they finally start to settle.

He finally pulls away from Steve's half-embrace, sliding his hand into the other's and tugging him in the direction of the kitchen. "We're staying up here until you're healed all the way. Coupla hours, I figure. Plenty of time for me to yell at you and anything else I might need to do."

And then, "This storm was fucking awful."

Steve goes along without complaint. He twines their fingers together as they walk, ignoring the twinges in his side as the muscle moves. A shower, clean clothes, and a good lie down sounds like heaven for him. But first they do need to take care of the awful stitches. If they didn't just unravel on their own.

In the kitchen, Steve immediately regresses into his teenage self and hops onto the counter instead of taking a chair. He winces as the move Yanks the stitches hard and causes blood to start flowing all over again. Yeah, okay. He deserves it.

"Yeah," he agrees, getting air back in his lungs. "Yeah. First it separated us, then it takes our powers, and then it makes ghosts."

He looks down at his lap, frowning.

"I saw the Soldier. The Winter Soldier. For a second I was really fooled that it was him..."

Bucky's fingers fit easily in between Steve's; he definitely can't keep from snorting when Steve just jumps up onto the counter, visibly rolling his eyes before he goes digging around for shears or a knife, whichever he comes up with first, to get rid of those stitches.

And a towel for the blood. Honestly, Steve.

At the admission, Bucky pauses, letting out a sound that might sound deceptively like a laugh... but it's not, quite. "Yeah, pal. Me, too."

Only it had been his Winter Soldier. Just like Steve had seen his own.

He's quiet a moment, once he finally finds a pair of shears - thank god, that'll be easier than trying to wedge a knife in there, even if Bucky's not bad with one. He comes over, not flinching in the least at the blood or the remains of the infection, and simply puts a hand on Steve's knee to warn him before he gets to work, snipping away at what he can, working the stitches out of Steve's skin as quickly and cleanly as he can.

"Saw the Howlies, too. At least, I think so. They were walking away. Same as he was."

Steve knows what seeing the Soldier did for him and can only imagine what it did for Bucky as well. When he's close enough, Steve strokes his fingers through Bucky's short hair and presses a kiss to his crown. It is all the sweetness he has time for before Bucky is taking those stitches out and Steve's concentration goes toward breathing and not letting his boyfriend know how much this hurt.

Serum didn't do shit for pain, after all.

At the mention of the Howlies, Steve's head turns a bit. That he didn't expect. But then again, Bucky had been awake for less time before he was swiped up; that loss was likely far more acute for him than it was for Steve.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says honestly. "The whole storm... It was awful. I hope it's a long time before another. It was like a a device of torture."

Bucky might not give Steve a lot of time to comfort him, but that doesn't mean it isn't comforting. There's a part of him that still -- always will, probably -- have a hard time seeking comfort from Steve, accepting it. But there's another part of him that thrives on it, and he tries to take care of the stitches as fast as possible, because he can hear in Steve's breathing exactly how much he's not enjoying this.

He pulls out the last piece of whatever the hell they'd used in the first place, then reaches for the towel and presses it tightly to Steve's side, knowing that's going to hurt, too, but maybe the pressure will actually help. He leans close to do it - and because he just wants to lean close, setting the bloody shears aside and balancing his other hand on the counter, next to Steve's hip.

"Yeah, it was," he agrees, because Steve's got it exactly right. It was torture. "Even if that was all these things did... I'd want off this fuckin' planet. I don't know how they think we're gonna be better at solving the problem than they were, but I'm starting to wonder if that's really what they want in the first place."

Color him suspicious, but the memory of the Drift Fleet is still pretty clear in his mind. And torture is a popular form of entertainment.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Yeah, the towel hurts but in a more aching way. Steve inhales through the worst of it and can almost feel how his body is healing now through the way that pain is fading. It isn't fast but it's happening. Another hour or so and it would probably be closed up.

And while they were waiting...

Steve uses his leg to wrap around the back of Bucky's and pull him in a little closer. His arms drape over his shoulders and Steve smiles down at his boyfriend, thankful and calm.

"Whatever is going on, at least we're safe now. And still together." More than he could say for some others. Steve leans forward a little, smile growing.

"If I say my lip hurts will you kiss it better, Dr. Barnes?"

His lines will never improve. Ever. You know what you're dating, Buck.

Yeah, Bucky knew what he was getting into. He can still complain about it, though.

"Oh my God, Rogers, did you think that was actually going to work? What the hell were you doing, all those years I came up with so many good lines to use. No wonder you fuckin' failed at every date I got you," Bucky says, but he can't hide the undercurrent of laughter, and he isn't really trying, either.

And he also doesn't really give Steve the chance to answer, leaning up for a hard kiss that maybe - hopefully - confers some of the anger and desperation and worry that he's trying not to actually let loose with, but still needs someplace for it to go. The least Steve can do is deal with a few bruising kisses. Bucky knows he'll get over that pretty quick.

"Where was I? I was choking on all the smoke in a corner, ya mmm-"

Steve's outrage is cut short by that kiss. That fucking kiss that Steve could drown in, gladly. He pulls Bucky in and returns as good as he is getting. He opens his lips under the assault and soothes some of the bruising intensity with gentle swipes of his tongue. Still, he's got adrenaline flowing through him and the heady joy of having his love safe and in his arms. He's not going to complain one second about any of this. Let's get some bruises that are a little more fun.

He breaks away for a second to breathe, peppering Bucky with small kisses as he does so.

"You givin' this treatment to all your patients, doc? Will be the most popular MD on the street."

Bucky doesn't care in the least that he's cut Steve off; he cares even less when Steve gives as good as he gets, because Steve has become a pretty damn good kisser, if Bucky had to say so. Even when he wasn't great at it, he was always genuine and enthusiastic. By now, he's both of those things, plus good at it, and if Bucky wants to stand here and enjoy if for a few minutes, he dares someone to come and stop him.

It helps that the whole ship is theirs for the moment, and they're in orbit around the planet and not likely to be interrupted. Honestly, it feels like the most privacy they've had in months.

He snorts, reaching out and tweaking Steve's good side for that one. "You're the patient I see the most. Can't keep yourself outta trouble. Some guys might think you like getting hurt, just to get my hands on you. I'll give you a hint - you don't gotta get hurt to get this kinda treatment."

He soothes over the spot he just pinched, then slips his hand around to run fingers up and down the base of Steve's spine, maybe a little teasing, but he figures he deserves that, too. "In fact, if you keep yourself out of trouble, just think how grateful I'd be."

Steve is also drunk on their own privacy. He leans into the stroking before starting to do some of that himself at the base of Bucky's neck. His legs come up and around his boyfriend's hips just to hold onto him. They need to clean up, sure, but this is a pretty good moment, right now. Steve is not eager to hasten its end.

"Oh yeah? You tryin' to bribe me into behaving with favors? Who do you think I am, James Buchanan?" He laughs and nudges back in for another kiss. Another nice, slow one that they can enjoy out of the storm and away from the rest of the people stuck on this planet. After everything, this was really not that bad an end to Steve's day.

Bucky will genuinely never get enough of Steve wrapping himself around him like he's the smaller of the two of them. It's fucking intoxicating, and maybe it strokes his ego just a little, but mostly, it's just hot. It's what Bucky's used to, sure, so it makes him feel more confident. But he also just kinda really, really likes it.

"A public figure, Steve Rogers," he murmurs - as soon as he gets a chance, between kisses, and it's okay if that's not for a while. He won't have forgotten the thread of the conversation. "You people are all bribe-able, with the right kinda bribes, right? Doesn't gotta be money."

He will give Steve five blowjobs a day to stay out of trouble... it's just that he still doesn't think it'll really work. Maybe there's no harm in trying, though.

"How's your side?" he eventually asks, after several more kisses, and one protracted attempt at sucking a bite mark into Steve's neck. It's for science: Bucky can watch how fast it fades and get an idea of how well Steve's healing factor is working. He's a goddamn genius, okay.

02| Steve is an idiot

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