A/N
Out of curiousity, who's your favourite Marvel character? Mine has always been Emma Frost, but Steve Rogers / Peter Parker / Stephen Strange follow closely behind. Yours?
x Noelle
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(rusted)
THE NEXT FEW days passed in an almost surreal way.
She became used to Sam leaving his Falcon equipment lying around the house for her to trip over, while Steve's vibranium shield sat stoically in the corner, an ever-pressing reminder that she basically had America's pillar of patriotism living in her apartment. She overheard Bucky asking them how they managed to locate their gear to begin with, and Steve had made some vague remark about how Wakanda had everything that they needed – Vibranium, a remodel of the Falcon gear, even a duplicate of the drone that Sam called Redwing.
"Who needs Stark when there's T'Challa?" Sam had joked, even though the light in his eyes seemed to dim at the mention of the infamous Iron Man.
In spite of her protests, Sam insisted she take several days off work until he made sure they were safe. He and Sam had begun patrolling the neighborhood and although she thought their paranoia was unnecessary, she didn't question it.
Bucky, on the other hand, was a mystery she couldn't help but want to figure out. He was almost ghostlike – his presence was impossible to ignore, but he was frightfully silent unless directly addressed. Sam's usual quips went ignored by him, and it seemed that only Steve was able to get a reaction out of him. On one particular occasion, it seemed as though Steve had gotten through to him, and Dakota could've sworn she saw a glimpse of the person Bucky was before the war.
It had been sometime in the evening when Steve decided to head up to the roof. She'd been sitting on the couch next to Bucky, although he seemed adamant on keeping a safe distance from her.
Steve smiled at her and glanced at Bucky. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."
"How can I?" Bucky said flatly, his eyes still fixed avidly on the television, despite the fact that it was just some rerun of an old series playing. "You're taking all the stupid with you."
There was a beat of startled surprise. And when Dakota looked up at Steve, she saw a strange look on his face, a blend of nostalgia and stunned surprise. Steve blinked and shook his head, shooting Dakota a quick grin before looking back at Bucky. "You're a jerk."
It was clear that the words had triggered some old memory because Bucky had stiffened, and he slowly took his eyes off the television, his metal hand clenching around the remote control. "Punk," he muttered, keeping his eyes averted from both their gazes. He was staring at the table blankly, but Dakota could practically see the cogs whirring in his head as he thought. As he tried to remember. "Be careful."
Steve nodded and she rose to see him out. "He's remembering," he said to her out in the hallway. "Without all the running, he remembers better."
"Give him time," she said and patted Steve on the shoulder. She shut the door behind him and returned to the couch. As she curled her feet under her and sat down, she felt Bucky's eyes on her.
"Steve and I – we used to fight in the war together," he finally said in a low voice.
"I know." She smiled when he looked at her in surprise. "I saw your pictures in the museum. Howling Commandos. You were Sergeant Barnes."
"That's how you know me? From the museum?"
"Of course," she shrugged. "The museum called you a World War II hero. You're practically a living legend."
He fell silent and, figuring that he probably didn't want to talk anymore, she turned back to the television. But she didn't miss the way he cast curious glances her way when he thought she wasn't looking. It was impossible not to miss that. His eyes were startlingly blue under some lights, but a stormier grey tint at times; and he looked at her like he was trying to break her apart if only so he could examine all of her, just so she'd make sense to him.
She didn't think anyone had ever looked at her that way before.
And his curiosity didn't falter, not even several days later, when she overheard him asking Sam and Steve about her. She was in her bedroom, the door ajar as she did some extensive research for one of her patients. They were in the living room, and she heard Steve laughing ridiculously hard at Bucky's question, followed by a loud thump that she presumed was Bucky firmly shoving him off the couch.
Sam, on the other hand, astutely held back on his sardonic quips and said instead, "Talk to her if you want to know more about her, man. It's not that difficult; she's actually very easy to talk to."
There was a lengthy pause. Unable to stop her curiosity, Dakota set her laptop down and moved closer to the door.
"If you're afraid that you can't trust her, don't be," Sam continued. "I had problems after flying in the rescue squadron a couple of years ago. I went to the treatment facility and Dot was just an intern then. But I talked to her and she listened – "
Dakota smiled. Sam Wilson wasn't half bad when he wasn't saying or doing things that made her want to smack him.
" – after my sessions were over and I got back on my feet, I decided to help out fellow war veterans. I'm just saying – you ever have a tough time, or having those nightmares you usually have, Barnes – just go to her. She's got ridiculous levels of sympathy and empathy; she's very good at what she does – "
"Because she's been through it before," Bucky's voice was low but sharp, and it felt like a sudden stab in the dark.
She flinched away from the door and retreated back to her bed. But her mind reeled; her breaths grew unsteady. How did he know? He'd barely spoken to her, and yet discovered the one thing that could break her apart. She dragged a shaky hand through her hair and plugged her earphones in, drowning herself in the music.
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She wasn't surprised to see Bucky enter the kitchen sometime later. He looked shaken, even though he tried to hide it. But she noticed the hunch in his shoulders and the way he held his metal arm in front of him, as if to fend off any imaginary attack.
She was still working on her research, humming along to the radio as she wrote; but he simply spared her a glance before making a beeline for the pot of tea that she'd brewed, reaching for a mug and pouring himself a generous helping to the brim. Over the past few days, she'd quickly gathered that Sam considered coffee a staple and Steve, for all his poster-boy levels of fitness, had a strangely sweet tooth and could drink coffee at any time of the day. She and Bucky, on the other hand, had a strong liking for tea. His was always black, strong, no sugar, no milk. While hers was dilute, with a dash of sugar and several teaspoons of milk.
Bucky stood as he drank, and she watched the slide of his Adam's apple along his throat, the muscles on his neck corded with tension and his normal arm braced on the counter, strong lines of veins running down his arm under tanned skin. His posture was rigid, shoulders knotted and he set his cup down, blinking rapidly as he dragged in several shallow breaths.
"Nightmares?" she asked at last.
He tensed before he spun around, then seemed to relax when he saw her. His eyebrows rose in a silent question, and she knew what he wanted to ask.
"I heard what Sam said earlier," she admitted softly. "And yes, you were right." He fixed his gaze on her and she shook her head. "We all have monsters in our pasts. Some monsters are just more terrifying and some pasts are just longer than others."
He slowly settled into the chair opposite. Sometimes, she wished she could get inside his head just to know what he thought. Everyone at her workplace were eager to talk. Sam and Steve were open books. But Bucky was an enigma.
"Do you want to talk about your nightmares?" she asked. Hesitation slipped across his features, before he shook his head. "It's okay." She smiled and picked up her pen again. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to."
He nodded and she returned to her work. But maintaining her focus proved difficult, especially when he sat opposite her. She could feel his gaze on her, even though he glanced away every time she looked up.
It was difficult to keep her eyes off him, even when he looked like this, and she'd lived the past few days with a fighting fit, smooth-as-hell Avenger along with Captain freaking America. But it wasn't either of them she was affected by – it was Bucky. He was heartbreakingly attractive, a combination of tight restraint and enigmatic mystery that appealed to her in a way not many men had before. She'd never denied it to herself before and there was no point denying it now.
"I know this song," he said unexpectedly. She looked up and found his hands tight around his mug, even though his expression betrayed nothing. But she heard it in his voice – that nostalgia and vulnerability, a heartbreaking blend of emotion.
"It's an old song," she mused, and reached for the remote to turn the volume up a notch. She went back to her work, humming it absentmindedly under her breath.
She was so caught up in her work that she didn't look up for several minutes. And when she finally did, Bucky had his head buried in his arms, his shoulders easing with steady, even breaths as he slept without nightmares for the first time in a long while.
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She'd soon become accustomed to his presence. Bucky moved so stealthily that she never heard him, but she learnt not to jump when she turned around and saw him there. So when she found behind her the next morning, she simply smiled. "James."
He didn't say a word, but she tried not to react when she heard him let out a quiet exhale, his breath warm on the back of her neck. Her nerves, however, felt alight with fire and she forced herself to stay calm, pushing herself up on the tips of her toes to get the mixing bowl from the shelf.
He was beside her the next moment, his tall frame having no problems at all reaching for the bowl. He set it down in front of her, before moving aside to start up the coffee maker for Sam and Steve. His metal arm, she noticed, didn't seem to be affected by temperatures because he picked up the boiling teapot with that hand and placed it on the dining table.
Bucky didn't seem to want to talk and she maintained the silence between them, only to throw glances over her shoulder every now and then to make sure he was handling the coffee and tea alright. He seemed to be managing it well enough, albeit a little roughly, and she bit her lip to stifle a smile when he broke a sugar cube in his metal hand and swore under his breath in Russian.
Bucky was about to fill her mug when Sam stepped into the kitchen. "Computer, coffee, hot," he quipped, "in a cup this time!"
His words were somewhat familiar, but she couldn't remember where she'd heard it.
"One more cup and I'll jump to warp – "
But Sam's words trailed off amidst the stunned silence when the cup Bucky was holding smashed to the ground in a dozen fragments. Dakota flinched at the sound of it and Steve was rushing into the kitchen the next moment, blond hair damp and wearing nothing but sweatpants. He looked so flustered that she knew he'd pretty much ran out of the bathroom at the noise.
"Buck." Steve stared warily at his friend. "You alright?"
Sam, on the other hand, eased the tension rapidly by simply grinning. "That's her favourite mug," he remarked smoothly, with a pointed glance at Dakota. "You're in trouble."
"It's alright," she said quickly. "I've got plenty of cups."
Her words seemed to snap Bucky out of the trance he'd fallen into, and Dakota found herself stilling in surprise when Bucky quickly turned around, stepping over to her. She was inches away from the splintered fragments on the floor, and she let out a quiet gasp of surprise when he easily picked her up as though she weighed nothing at all, his flesh and metal fingers wrapping securely around her waist. Through the thin fabric of her sweatshirt, she could feel the slick heat of his fingers and the cold from his other hand, and before she knew it, he was setting her down on the counter.
Both Steve and Sam were watching; the former with a tiny grin playing on his lips while Sam was smirking widely, leaning against the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. He opened his mouth to say something teasing, if the wicked gleam in his eyes was any indication, but after Dakota shot him a look, he quickly snapped his mouth shut.
Bucky, on the other hand, seemed to have blocked them out and focused only on her. His hair fell into his eyes when he lowered his head to inspect her feet. Seemingly satisfied that none of the chipped fragments had lodged themselves into her skin, he straightened. "Don't move," he murmured, his voice low and barely audible so that only she could hear, before stepping away to pick up the pieces from the tiled floor.
Steve immediately stepped into the kitchen to help, but Sam was clearly more enthusiastic about his coffee, leaning over to reach for his cup and taking a huge, contented gulp. Dakota picked up the coffee pot from the counter and refilled it for him when he was halfway done, before shifting to the edge of her seat.
"I'll get the broom and dustpan." She'd almost set her feet down on the floor when Bucky shot her a look over his shoulder.
"Stay there," his voice was firm, eyes steady on her until she timidly retracted her feet and shifted back in place. Once he'd made sure she wasn't going to get off the counter again, he shot a pointed look at Sam instead.
"What?" Sam blinked. Bucky stared at him until he sighed in resignation. "Fine." He set down his coffee and headed off in search for the broom and dustpan.
Dakota watched them, a contented smile spreading across her face. She felt guilty about not helping them, but it had been a long while since someone had cared for her like that. Funny how it took the arrival of a silent, haunted war veteran with a metal arm to change all that for her.
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Two weeks after the others had moved in, she decided it was time to return to work. Sam worked part-time at the treatment facility, but her job was a full-time staple. He reluctantly agreed to let her go, on the condition that he drove her there and back.
When Monday morning came around, the two of them ate an early breakfast and packed up as quietly as they could. Unfortunately, sneaking around a super-soldier and a man with killer instincts proved to be impossible, because the moment they tried to tiptoe through the living room, both Steve and Bucky stirred awake.
"Dot?" Steve rubbed his eyes blearily, his hair sticking up every which way as he sat up. "Sam? Where're you going?"
"Back to work," she shushed him and waved him back to sleep.
"Oh, alright. Have a good day – "
But Bucky was already pushing himself up, dragging a distracted hand through his hair as he tested the fingers on his metal arm. He clenched and unclenched his hand twice, before looking at Dakota. "I'm coming with you."
Dakota stared at him in surprise. Sam, on the other hand, shook his head. "It's fine, man. She's safe with me."
"Not safe enough," Bucky's voice was flat, betraying no emotion whatsoever. He swiped one of Steve's jackets hanging off the edge of the couch and pulled it over his undershirt, before pulling the hood over his head. "Let's go."
"Wait," Steve scrambled up, looking so much like a lost, confused puppy that Dakota wanted to laugh. "It's not safe for you, Buck."
"Don't care."
"You don't trust that I'll take good care of Dot?" Sam's voice was sharp, almost bordering on defensive, and Dakota could see Steve brace himself for an inevitable fight.
"I don't trust that the world's safe enough for anyone," Bucky returned. But there was a hard note in his voice and his posture was stiff.
"It's alright," she quickly told Sam. She turned to Bucky and offered him a smile. "You can come. And Steve, I'm guessing you want to come along too?"
Steve nodded, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand as he climbed to his feet. "The more the merrier."
So awhile later, the four of them were in Sam's car, heading for the treatment facility. Sam was driving, while Dakota was in what Bucky had deemed the second safest seat in the car, since the middle seat didn't have a seatbelt.
"Drivers swerve to avoid accidents; the driver's the barrier between you and collision up-front if you sit behind him," was Bucky's mystifying explanation when he ushered her into the seat behind the one Sam was in.
"Barrier?" Sam repeated in disbelief. "I'm the barrier?"
Bucky ignored him and went round the car, sliding into the backseat beside Dakota. He looked at the space between her knees and the back of Sam's chair, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at Sam. "Can you move your seat up?"
"No."
Bucky launched a sharp kick at the back of Sam's chair and the latter begrudgingly pulled his seat up. Up front in the passenger seat, Steve feigned a poorly disguised cough to cover a laugh.
Dakota didn't miss the way Steve was shooting her amused glances through the rearview mirror for the rest of the ride, especially when Bucky would instinctively lift his metal arm to keep her in place whenever there was a sharp turn. He kept a good distance, his arm hovering a few inches away from her, but she couldn't quite shake the flutter she felt in her chest when he did that.
Like Dakota, Sam had always hated extended bouts of silences, so he was turning on the radio when they'd pulled onto the freeway. He was soon whistling along to some song from the 40s, after Bucky had told him to shut up because he had a terrible voice. Dakota was singing softly; while Steve, who had a surprisingly nice voice, was quick to join in, looking more than thrilled that the two of them was familiar with songs from his era.
Bucky, on the other hand, remained completely silent. But when she chanced a glance over at him, she was surprised to see that his gaze was firmly fixed out of the window, eyes blank and unblinking. The look of nostalgia on his face was heartbreaking, but if any of them noticed, they never said anything about it.
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Instead of her usual one-to-one sessions, she took on a full class this time. The group was the typical blend – anxiety and PTSD patients who wanted to fight their addiction to medication. She couldn't help compare their symptoms to Bucky's: nightmares, hyper-vigilance and insomnia among many others. Sam had suggested anti-depressants, but she wanted that as a last resort.
Medicine was a suppressor.
What happened when the suppression no longer worked?
For the time being, she shoved all thoughts of Bucky aside and focused on helping these people. Many conversations, tears and hugs were exchanged, and she sighed in relief when it was over. She loved helping people. But with so many emotions around, it felt overwhelming.
After the last patient left, she picked up her bag and coat. Sam was still in one of his sessions, but Steve and Bucky would be waiting in the cafeteria for her. She made her way out, then stopped when she caught sight of someone in the far corner.
"James?" She immediately went to him. He was huddled against the wall, lowered in a crouched position. "What're you doing here?"
He didn't answer and she paused when she was several feet away, her breath catching when she saw the state he was in. He was shaking, his hair plastered to his damp forehead and hands clenched and pressed to his lips, as though trying to stifle a scream or sob from breaking through.
It didn't take long for her to figure out what he'd done. Probably snuck in and listened to the group's sharing, which had in turn triggered his memories of the past. Dakota mentally smacked herself for not noticing him sooner. She'd been so absorbed in helping the group that she didn't even see the door opening and closing; or his tall, imposing figure when he entered the room.
When he continued to shake, she took a hesitant step closer and tried again. "Bucky?"
He reacted so quickly she barely even caught it. One moment she was stepping closer to him; the next she was several inches off the ground, his metal hand wrapped around her throat in a vice-like grip, squeezing so tightly like a python around its prey. The expression on his face was filled with murderous intent and the way he stared at her was terrifying – his eyes so empty and dead within that the sight of it sent a shiver down her spine.
Her vision blurred and she gasped. "James."
He blinked. The coldness faded from his eyes as recognition took over. He dropped her, his other hand going around her waist to steady her.
"Блять." He let out a shaky exhale and swore several more times, all in Russian, before he yanked his hand away from her. His eyes were terrified and he was clutching his metal arm to his chest, his shoulders heaving with silent shudders. "I'm sorry," his voice was ragged and unsteady when he finally spoke again. "I'm so fucking sorry – I didn't – I didn't – "
"It's okay," she assured him swiftly, ignoring the bursts of pain on her throat and stepping closer to him.
He automatically flinched away but she didn't back down, steadily holding out a hand to him until she'd reached his metal arm. The metal was cool beneath her touch and she felt him stiffen, but she ignored that too, drawing his hand up so that the palm of his metal hand was pressed against her cheek. Some part of her wondered if he could feel her with that hand; wondered why his hands, metal or not, had never made a difference to her because she still felt her heart race whenever she came into physical contact with him. But she pushed those thoughts aside for later and focused on him instead.
"Yeah, you're okay," she said softly, holding his hand in place against her cheek and smiling when his eyes met hers hesitantly. He swallowed, another shiver wracking through his frame and his shoulders tensed, but he kept his eyes on her the whole time. "You're going to be alright."
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r e f e r e n c e s
"You're taking all the stupid with you."
That scene is a throwback to Captain America: The First Avenger, albeit with some minor differences. I said no to Stucky romance but 100% yes to Steve / Bucky's friendship, and I'm delivering what I promised.
"Computer, coffee, hot."
The lines that Sam says are quotes from episodes of Star-Trek: the Voyager. The full quotes are by Captain Janeway and go something like this: Computer, coffee, hot. In a cup this time! / Coffee? No thanks, one more cup & [I'll] jump to warp. But, more importantly, the quotes contain a word that pretty much drives Bucky crazy, hence his unexpected reaction.
"Can you move your seat up?"
Another scene that is a throwback to Captain America: Civil War. One of my favourite moments and, well, who would say no to Sam / Bucky's blossoming friendship?