"Both feet steady on the curb, Steve looked up at the house. For a moment, wondering what it looked like before. Glancing to his left and right, Steve wondered what this abandoned suburban street was like before. Wondered if kids freely rode their b...
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"Whatcha doin'?"
Startled, Steve nearly jumped out of his skin as he quickly shut the journal to find Cassie taking a seat at the table beside him. Heart still racing, Steve thickly swallowed as he lied, "Nothing."
"Really?" The teen quirked a brow suspiciously as she pointedly looked at the pen in his hand and the worn, stuffed journal in front of him. "Sure you weren't writing in your diary?"
"Journal," Steve quietly corrected, glancing down at it, himself. Purposely moving it further away from her, he rested his muscular arm on top of it and asked, "What are you up to? Bored with the compound already?"
"How'd you guess?" Cassie mocked before sighing and letting her shoulders slump. Looking around at the modern interior, she wondered, "How did you not lose your mind here?"
Shrugging, Steve easily admitted, "Had other things on it."
Brown hair, blue eyes, strong jaw, one arm, types of things...
"Things to fill your diary with?" Cassie flashed a shit-eating grin as she innocently teased him.
So, Steve played along, "Journal, actually."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Cassie mocked, bringing a hand to her chest to feign authenticity. Sighing again, she decided to rest her head on her hand as she eyed the People I Want to Punch in the Face journal, "Never thought that Captain America was the violent type."
"Captain America's not," Steve rationalized, "Steve Rogers on the other hand..."
Studying him for a moment, Cassie finally questioned, "Is it weird?"
"Is what weird?" Steve asked, making sure that the postcards and pictures didn't fall out of the journal.
"You know," Cassie waved her hand about as if that was answer enough. When Steve simply quirked another brow at her, she clarified, "Having everyone know who you are, but not really know you. Is it weird?"
"It doesn't ever bother you?" Bucky asked, his brow set in a heavy furrow. "How they write about you in those history books? Or how they write about us? I mean, they have you being doll dizzy before settling down with Carter! That don't bother you?"
Steve shrugged one shoulder. Not really in the mood to talk about it. Never in the mood to talk about it, really. Lying back on the bed, he brought his arms to pillow behind his head so his muscles would flex. Hoping that if they bulged enough, Bucky might be too preoccupied with another bulge to pick Steve's brain too much.
"No!" Bucky exclaimed, pointing accusingly at Steve as he swatted at Steve's foot, "We're having this discussion, Steven Grant!"
"But Buck," Steve whined, removing his arms from behind his head and scrubbing his heels into his eyes. Complaining, "I don't want to talk about this. Again. I don't want to talk about it again."
"You're a hypocrite," Bucky claimed, turning away from the bed entirely as he walked into the hotel bathroom.
Pushing himself up on his elbows, Steve could see Bucky brushing his hair through the open doorway. With how harshly he was tugging on the tangles, Steve knew that he was pissed. Steve was also aware enough to know that he was being hypocritical. Never letting Bucky hide from the tough subjects, but immediately doing just that, himself.
Sighing, Steve slid off the bed and crossed the carpeted floor. Leaning against the doorway, he teased, "You yank any harder, and you'll go bald."
"Wouldn't that just be the worst thing in the world," Bucky deadpanned, flipping his head over to brush it out even more.
"Nah," Steve smirked, "You'd look hot bald."
"Not the time, Steven," Bucky warned, his reflection giving Steve A Look.
Pushing himself off the doorway, Steve sat down on the side of large bathtub and apologized, "I'm sorry. I know that I always pitch a fit whenever you use sex to avoid serious conversations, but I just want to relax. I'm still trying to get used to all this hero work without having the shield to hide behind."
Turning around to face Steve, Bucky's brows furrowed and he reminded, "You were a hero before the shield, and if you wanna a be a hero after it, you will be."
Nodding, Steve chewed on his lower lip while staring down at his bare feet. He wasn't all that convinced though. Especially not when the uniform and shield had -- at one point -- meant safety and freedom. After everything that had happened though, it was an insult. With graffiti depicting his face as a fascist symbol. Which made Steve want to vomit.
Leaving the brush on the bathroom counter, Bucky dropped to his knees in front of Steve. Lovingly bullying his way between Steve's legs, Bucky kept his eyes locked with Steve's and wrapped his arms around Steve's torso.
"I used to have to beg you to stay out of fights you had no business in fighting. But because of the, 'he was hassling 'em, Buck,' and, 'you didn't hear the things they were sayin',' and, 'bigots deserve nothing better than a broken nose and a swift kick to the balls,'" Bucky reminded. Bringing one of his hands up to brush his thumb over the stubble growing on Steve's jaw, "You've always been a hero, Stevie. The history books and documentaries might not have always portrayed it the way it was, and the world might be changing, but that doesn't change that."
Feeling tears building in his eyes, he asked, "Even if they say I'm a fascist?"
Bucky shook his head, "Baby, they're not saying that you're a fascist. They're saying Captain America is. If they knew you, there's no way that they'd think that."
"I forget sometimes," Steve softly confessed, throat tight with emotion.
Affectionately, Bucky leaned up to press a sweet kiss to his lips as he confirmed, "That's what I'm here for, punk." Nuzzling into Steve's broad chest, Bucky apologized, "I'm sorry for pushing you on this. I just get so worried when you use that Captain America face that I feel like I don't know you. I'm afraid that one day, I won't be able to reach you at all."
"You'll always be able to reach me," Steve assured, kissing the top of Bucky's head. Giving his torso a squeeze as he half-teased, "You're stuck with me, pal. Ain't no way you're getting rid of me now."
"Even if I wish you'd have the books changed?" Bucky half-teased, but the tremble to his lips gave him away.
And damn did that hurt.
Leaning his forehead against Bucky's, he promised, "I'll get them changed."
"Earth to Steve?" Cassie asked, waving her hands in front of his face.
Blinking the past away, Steve looked around at the open, modern compound that was an immediate contrast to the hotel room of his memory. Looking at the teen in front of him -- and the worried expression on her face -- Steve's jaw clenched. He had scared Cassie. That was the last thing that he wanted to do.
Clearing his throat, he questioned, "Everything okay?"
A conscious decision was made as Cassie gestured towards the other side of the compound and reiterated, "They're ready to test it."
"Right," Steve nodded, climbing from his seat and picking his journal off the table. His hands clammy as he tried not to worry about how much he had ruined Cassie's perception of him.
