still friends

Chapter 2: Unloading

May 5th, 2024

Bucky has to shrug off his jacket in a weak attempt to cool himself down, exposing his metal arm. He has an understanding slash hate relationship with his metal appendage, but it doesn't mean he likes to show it off.

Standing in the exact spot as last year, holding the exact same glass of Asgardian liquor, Bucky attempts to tune out the music, the sound vibrating against his back, and he taps his foot in time.

Wanda is also there, sitting on the steps, leaning against the railing. She hasn't moved since he arrived, even when he addressed her, and he's stuck wondering what the hell he has to do to warrant her attention.

He wants to see her pretty face scowl at him, and how was that supposed to happen if she just stood there like a statue?

Her arms are tightly wrapped around herself, knuckles white. He takes a slow sip, reveling in the taste.

"The fucks wrong with you?"

Her head jerks up, but she doesn't turn around. She's stark still, her orange hair loose this time, waving like a banner.

She doesn't answer him, instead grips her sides tighter and he chuckles at her pathetic actions. "Didn't take you for a sensitive one."

Wanda stills, her back straight and Bucky grins into his mug. He's got her now, her attention trained on his miscellaneous insult. He hears her scoff, and wishes he could see what expression she was making.

"You're really into the hurting others who haven't done a fucking thing to you, huh?"

His brows raise.

"The fuck is up with you?"

She laughs, completely empty of humor. "Why does everyone think something is wrong with me?"

Her head is titled to the sky, like she's waiting for God to drop his big promise of salvation. Bucky purses his lips.

"Come again?"

She turns, finally looking at him, and it's like a breath of fresh air. While not damp, her eyes are filled with animosity, her mouth twisted into a thin line. "Do you live under a rock?"

"No." The response is plain, nonencouraging to continue the conversation, but he doesn't know what else to say. He isn't completely sure what she wants.

Her expression is rye, hands pressed into the wooden floor of the Wilsons front porch to keep herself upright as she twists around to give him her almighty glare.

He squirms, feeling raw under her stare, and then she's laughing. Head thrown back, shoulders shaking as her lips chuckle in hysterics.

"Has it ever occurred to you to keep up with the outside world or have you completely disregarded everyone but yourself?"

She's being fucking rude.

"Not particularly, I don't enjoy seeing what people think should be done with me. How they chalk me up to nothing but a rabid fucking animal." He seethes, and moves his eyes to his shoes, shaking his head in frustration. "It's exhausting, reading all the assumptions. They think I'm a mindless killing machine, but they always forget the 40's. How the government forgot me, let me be completely stripped of my fucking self and turned into a god damn weapon. So no, I don't really listen to the outside world."

A tension surrounds them, and he's breathing hard, wants to stop his rambling but he can't. If she knows more of his side, maybe she'll stop starring at him like that.

"I was normal , and doing my part in the war. After being brain washed again and again, there was nothing left. I remembered nothing. Sometimes, I'm still there, still chained to that fucking wall trying to remember my first name."

Silence stretches between them, so defining it sounds like static. The music is muffled, cheerful cries being heard from within and for the hundredth time that evening he wishes he could move on.

Wanda sniffs, still starring at him, but her back is laxed, her eyes not so hard. "They won't let me see Vision."

Bucky looks up at this revelation, simply confused as to how she wasn't allowed the simplest of things like saying goodbye.

"They say he's government property. That he doesn't belong to me," she says, sadness leaking into her tone. "that he's one of the most expensive pieces of tech to ever exist." It sounds like her chest is cracking right open. "They're acting like he wasn't alive. Like he didn't have wants and dreams."

Bucky looks away, takes a sip.

"According to SWORD, I have no say. Even after everything, he's just parts to them." She sniffs. "They...they ripped him to pieces, and didn't even tell me. I had to push my way in just to see his pieces ."

Bucky breaths out, nibbling his lip.

They'd just shared so much, and the air was thick with unknowing. Neither knows how to comfort the other. So they sit in silence.

"We had a plan, you know." She whispered, and he finds her staring at a spot on the floor. "and they dismembered him."

"What was the plan?" He asks, because he's genuinely curious. She sighs, her chest full of anxiety and tears, and the sound hurts him more than being wiped.

"Westview." She replies simply, as if he should know what that means. When he doesn't respond, she shrugs. "It's this town. We bought some land, we're gonna build a house. Have a garden, a family." She blinks, finally looking away from the spot on the floor. "Guess I don't deserve it."

"You deserve anything you could ever want." He says simply, and she blinks. "Fuck SWORD. You gave everything, lost everything. You deserve some retribution."

She blinks again.

"And it's not your fault that you can't just move on." He adds, just for clarification. He knows he's treading the edge, but maybe jumping would be worth it. "You loved him. Of course you can't move on."

She chews on her lip, eyes downcast, and nods once. Turning away, Wanda lays her chin on her knees.

They spend the rest of the night bathed in silence.