(She feels like she should check on him. Without Steve, he's without a life preserver. He's had time to adjust for the most part, but has he really?
She has a pack of beer and comfortable clothes on, knocking on the door of his newly-leased apartment. Nat can hear the sounds of something like a scuffle.
When the door is opened, she sees that the scuffle was Bucky attempting to put together an IKEA coffee table. )
[ Adjusting is hard. So, apparently, is putting together IKEA furniture.
Still, some part of him is grateful for the challenge, obnoxious as it is. Bucky sits on the floor of his apartment, pieces of what is apparently a coffee table scattered about in front of him, instructions spread out haphazardly. At the sound of the knock, he tenses up briefly before shaking his head, standing up and walking over to the door.
(The look on his face has her curling her lips ever so slightly. She liked how he was too damn old for this shit, all the time. All the time.)
Can I come in? Thought we could drink this and eat pizza. I would get drunk and talk about old times, and hopefully if I throw up, you would hold my hair? That's really all I need you for.
[ His hands still immediately at the mention of the Red Room, and he sucks in a bit of air. With anyone else, he could maybe mask that response, make it seem like it's nothing. But not to her. She's already noticed, he knows, so what's the point?
Instead, he takes a moment before plucking up one of the small tools IKEA shoved in the box with the furniture pieces, spinning it idly as he stares at the instructions. ]
Uh-huh. What about it?
exactly! feel free to make up whatever, whether it was a friendship or something shippy in the Room
(Maybe she walked over here after pre-gaming a bottle of wine in her own apartment. She's looser than normal. Vulnerable. A little soft and sentimental. Her eyes betray her.)
[ He remembers everything, though he wishes he didn't.
The girls they would bring in were so young, their eyes already so dead, but hers weren't. They never were, despite everything. The girl with grace, the young woman with an ember in her eyes. A part of him he'd never realized he still had back then had hoped she would escape, hoped she would be free from all of this.
Perhaps it was that same part of him that made the Soldier softer towards her in some respects. He couldn't help all of those girls, but maybe—
No. He wasn't even able to help one in the end. ]
. . . Sure. [ It's a small confession after a long moment. ] Enough, anyway.
(She smiles that twisted little smile she has. Passes a beer over to Bucky, walking from the kitchenette to the couch in front of which he builds his table. She takes a seat and isn't as confident as she usually is. She sort of folds into herself, knees pointed at each other. Like she's that sixteen year old girl again.)
It wasn't always greasy. Now... was it just me, or, (She takes a drink.) ...did you take it easy on me? When they had us go up against zimniy soldat. Because we both know I'm good but not that good.
[ It's a vague response, but it's all he can offer. The Red Room feels like a dream at times — or rather, a nightmare, and one he'd rather not remember. ]
But hey, we got out, right? So. Cheers. [ And he tips his beer towards her at that. ]
(She sits up straight. Points to him with the hand holding the beer.)
You didn't know the man that I thought I was in love with back in the Red Room. You aren't that man anymore. But what about right now? I came to see you today.
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She has a pack of beer and comfortable clothes on, knocking on the door of his newly-leased apartment. Nat can hear the sounds of something like a scuffle.
When the door is opened, she sees that the scuffle was Bucky attempting to put together an IKEA coffee table. )
Be careful with those things.
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Still, some part of him is grateful for the challenge, obnoxious as it is. Bucky sits on the floor of his apartment, pieces of what is apparently a coffee table scattered about in front of him, instructions spread out haphazardly. At the sound of the knock, he tenses up briefly before shaking his head, standing up and walking over to the door.
He gives her an unimpressed look at her remark. ]
I'm careful.
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Can I come in? Thought we could drink this and eat pizza. I would get drunk and talk about old times, and hopefully if I throw up, you would hold my hair? That's really all I need you for.
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I feel like you're taking advantage of my inability to get shitfaced. Some people might be offended by that, you know.
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(The lack of coffee table has her crossing into the apartment's kitchen to set the beer on the counter.)
And maybe that was just who I wanted to talk to.
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[ He goes back to his spot on the floor, picking up a coffee table piece as he squints at the instructions. ]
About what?
let's say clint took the plummet, shall we?
Natasha isn't afraid of anything. So why can't she spit it out?
Losing Clint has put her in a shaky spot. Survivor's guilt, with that. She wonders if Bucky feels something like that.)
Wanted to talk about the Red Room.
it's our au, we do what we want.
Instead, he takes a moment before plucking up one of the small tools IKEA shoved in the box with the furniture pieces, spinning it idly as he stares at the instructions. ]
Uh-huh. What about it?
exactly! feel free to make up whatever, whether it was a friendship or something shippy in the Room
(Maybe she walked over here after pre-gaming a bottle of wine in her own apartment. She's looser than normal. Vulnerable. A little soft and sentimental. Her eyes betray her.)
Do you remember what happened?
hopefully this is okay!
The girls they would bring in were so young, their eyes already so dead, but hers weren't. They never were, despite everything. The girl with grace, the young woman with an ember in her eyes. A part of him he'd never realized he still had back then had hoped she would escape, hoped she would be free from all of this.
Perhaps it was that same part of him that made the Soldier softer towards her in some respects. He couldn't help all of those girls, but maybe—
No. He wasn't even able to help one in the end. ]
. . . Sure. [ It's a small confession after a long moment. ] Enough, anyway.
IT IS PERFECT
(She chuckles, taking a long pull from her beer.)
You want one?
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[ It doesn't do anything for him; it's mostly about the act at this point, about participating, socializing, and all that good stuff.
He lets out a soft chuckle. ]
The hair, huh. Either baby you didn't have much taste, or just didn't realize that grease was a thing.
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It wasn't always greasy. Now... was it just me, or, (She takes a drink.) ...did you take it easy on me? When they had us go up against zimniy soldat. Because we both know I'm good but not that good.
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Please. As if the famous— [ there's barely a pause as he slips into a flawless Russian accent. ] — Zimniy Soldat would "take it easy" on anyone.
[ He would and he did, but that's something that he's not up to unpacking any time this year.
Bucky takes another sip, sliding back into his normal voice. ]
Take the win where you can.
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He was suspended in time, and she grew up anyway. And now here they were. It was surreal.)
What about the night I came to see you?
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[ It's a vague response, but it's all he can offer. The Red Room feels like a dream at times — or rather, a nightmare, and one he'd rather not remember. ]
But hey, we got out, right? So. Cheers. [ And he tips his beer towards her at that. ]
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I'm a sensible old man. There's a difference.
[ There isn't. ]
hey can i bring this back from the dead? i will grovel if need be. bw gave me her voice back
(Natasha takes a long pull from her bottle, eyes closed.)
I know I shouldn't have... (in regards to the infamous visit) ... but did it mean anything to you? The gesture at least?
hilariously I just culled his icons last night so I could pay up the account today so. your timing.
I tried real damn hard to be the charmer, the rogue and all that, but Steve. Christ. No one could out-trouble Steve.
[ And he exhales, shaking his head. ]
Can't say. That guy— [ At that, Bucky pauses, waving a hand once. How to even describe it? ] — I don't know. Probably.
i am a rp psychic
(She sits up straight. Points to him with the hand holding the beer.)
You didn't know the man that I thought I was in love with back in the Red Room. You aren't that man anymore. But what about right now? I came to see you today.
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Can't say I mind the company.
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(She takes a long drink before coming back and giving him a forced smile.)
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Yeah, well. Gotta keep that ego of yours in check somehow.
same person, better journal name, imo
(She raises an eyebrow after raising that point. It's not a very good one, but it's the only one she has to stand on.)