still friends

Chapter 17: Specially Gifted

April 21st, 2028

He's already buzzed when he walks into the gym, nearly tripping over his undone laces. Sif is nowhere to be seen, and he huffs.

Good. He didn't feel like sharing his bottle today.

He drops his bag, turns on the treadmill. His brain tingles with a faint excitement. There's nothing that makes him this exuberant, this numb. As he begins a light jog, he takes a gulp, the liquor no longer burning as harshly as it did, but the taste is oh so sweet.

The only sound echoing around the gym is the machine, his burps, and the light buzz of a wall tv hooked up in the corner.

Its isolated perfection.

When Sif arrives, he's nearly passed out on the barbell rack. She laughs, kicks his thigh with the tip of her shoe, takes a drag from his bottle.

"Don't fuckin' - fuckin' gimme," He slurs, attempting to grab it. She holds it out of reach, takes another swig. "You goddamn bitch."

"Watch how you speak to your supplier," she warns, but her eyes are glossy and he knows she doesn't actually care. "You wouldn't be here if it weren't for me."

Bucky groans, sits up. His head is pounding, heart lightly stuttering in his chest as he leans against the rack. "You better get your act together, wouldn't want the security guards seeing you like this."

"I'm here because of her, not you." Bucky spits, and Sif frowns. She waves his words off, looking away as she undos her bag. "Don't act like you're-you're better than me or somethin."

Sif clicks her tongue. "Yeah yeah."

Bucky eyes her as he raises the neck to his lips, dragging his tongue over the opening. Careful, has to ensure non of this liquid gold goes to waste.

They workout in silence, and when Bruce Banner walks on the screen, a recording from last night's press conference, Bucky doesn't have any choice but to listen.

"We know SHIELD and SWORD are liable for every damage they've caused," the doctor says, his glasses perched on his nose. "But they're also responsible for multitudes of goods. Take for instance, our android here."

Bucky whips his head around to the tv, his full attention suddenly settled on the corner of the room.

Vision is dressed in a fucking vest, his skin now returned to its red and green state. He looks nervous, unsure, but very much alive. He stands next to Bruce, hands clasped in front of him, and when Bruce gestures to the podium, he taps the mike lightly before he speaks.

"Thank you all, for your attendance. It's my understanding that I have caused...a bit of a problem for the population." He begins, his voice steady and flowing easily. "I hope to right those wrongs. I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for my darling wife, who never gave up on me." He gestures to somewhere off camera, and Bucky feels his throat tighten.

Wanda walks onto the stage, stopping right beside him, a gleaming smile stretched on her face. She's gorgeous, her hair curled and cheeks pink. Reaching out, she slips her hand into Vision's. He smiles at her, presses his mouth to her temple, then turns his attention back to the crowd.

"It was Wanda's idea, but we hope to begin giving back to a world that has granted us this one gift; each other. In accordance with SWORD and Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, we will be opening an orphanage for the specially gifted."

Wanda is practically radiating with joy, and Bucky has to tear his eyes away before it maims him. He lifts the bottle to his mouth, takes deep long drags before coughing harshly. Sif laughs, and Bucky thinks he can feel something break inside. Dropping the bottle, he grabs her arm, dragging her to him, his mouth on hers in a harsh kiss.

There's nothing sweet or good about his movements. They're a mess of ripped clothing and spit, his teeth sinking into her skin hard enough to draw blood. Sif treats him the same, knows what he wants and is more than willing to give it; she wants the same.

His hips are erratic, his head dizzy as he moves. Sif is gripping his hair tightly, pulling, and he latches to her neck. The tv sound is low, but he picks up words and phrases in-between his grunts and slaps of skin.

So happy,

grateful,

school for the gifted,

our family.

Bucky sobs into Sifs neck, his tears mixing with their sweat, and she hums softly.

"Just pretend," she mummers, bites his lip and drags it painfully. "That's what I do."

Dread sets in now, his gut twisting around his muscles and tendons, and he wishes it would stop his heart.

He finishes inside her, pulling out the second he does and drags his clothes back on. Sif stares at him sadly as he moves, leaning against the wall and catching her breath.

"You're going to have to let her go one day." Sif murmurs, lifts a bottle to her mouth. "It might kill you if you don't."

"Don't," he warns, grabbing his bag. He's still drunk, and his mind isn't right at all. "Don't tell me how to get over you. You fucking lost that privilege."

Sif stays silent, doesn't bother informing him that she isn't the her he's referring to. They're both well aware they're using one another, they both enjoy the game. Sif wonders if his heart would ever move on. If it would ever stop breaking.

He wished it would.