[oom] I'm right here beside you

[from_the_outside]

 Sleep is a joke.

It's not just the intel that she stays up sifting through, blue light straining her eyes; it's not just the coffee she drinks, trying to keep her brain sharp and her thoughts on track. 

It's time.

Minutes that slip away, that she can't get back. Hours that tick ponderously past. She lies alone in her bed and can't close her eyes because if she does, if she sleeps, it's another night gone, another night closer to the day Bucky goes back under and –

So she stays up and works. 

It means that when she waits for him in the morning to come find her before they meet with T'Challa and the others, her skin is pale and translucent and she has that sick feeling of an all-nighter, fatigue poisons running rampant through her bloodstream – but she has a list of observations from her analysis, and two mugs of coffee kept warm on the credenza: one pale with milk and sugar, the other black and as strong as her little coffee maker could handle.

Comments

[nerves_of_ice]

"I'd heard that," he says, dry as desert sand. "But for some reason, not everyone likes it."

He squeezes her fingers, then lets go so that he can brush her hair back over her shoulder.

"Someday, I'll take you to a game."

[from_the_outside]

The smile she gives him is more in her eyes than the curve of her mouth, but it shines there like sunlight on water. "It's a date."

After a second: "But you know the Dodgers are in L.A. now, right?"

[nerves_of_ice]

The expression on his face can only be described as sulky as he nods.

"Yeah. I heard. That's just wrong."

[from_the_outside]

She laughs and steps behind him to put her arms around his waist and press a kiss to his cheek, then settles her chin on his shoulder. "It's okay," she says, bracingly. "Nobody's going to make you root for the Yankees."

Cheerful: "You can be a Nationals fan, like me."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Nobody could."

He turns his head just enough to give her a suspicious look.

"A Nationals fan?"

[from_the_outside]

"That's the D.C. team."

The look she gives him back is deeply amused. "Or I guess you could go for the Mets."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Better than the Yankees." He still sounds skeptical, which is explained almost immediately when he adds, "But they're not the Dodgers."

[from_the_outside]

"The Giants?" she suggests, more amused by this than anything else has managed in the last thirty-six hours. Her eyes are sparkling.

"...Or I guess you could just suck it up and be an L.A. boy."

[nerves_of_ice]

He twists around in the circle of her arms to give her a betrayed stare.

"The Giants? Those Manhattan elitists? -- yes I know they're in San Francisco now, I don't care, how could you think I'd ever be a Giants supporter? I thought you said you were a baseball fan! Don't tell me the rivalry between the Dodgers and that team's been forgotten," he demands.

[from_the_outside]

"It's hasn't," she says, when she's stopped laughing at his distress enough to say anything at all, which honestly takes a few minutes.

"I just wanted to see your reaction."

[nerves_of_ice]

He groans and pulls himself free to stalk over to the lake and kick a rock or two into the water.

[from_the_outside]

It probably doesn't help that she keeps giggling to herself as he sulks off, but eventually she goes to the wicker pack and pulls out a white paper napkin, then makes her way to the lake, waving it like a flag.

"Pax! I'm sorry, that was mean."

She doesn't look sorry, but listen, there's only so much she can do.

[nerves_of_ice]

"You're not sorry," he tells her, after one glance. "But I guess I'll forgive you anyway."

[from_the_outside]

"You're right," she says, amused and unrepentant, "but I promise never to suggest it again. Especially since you can't even retaliate; the Nats don't have a real rivalry. Not like the Dodgers and the Giants or the Yankees and the Red Sox."

And she doesn't love the Nats like he loved the Dodgers, so it's unfair all around, which makes it a perfect target for teasing.

She tucks her impromptu white flag into her pocket and winds her arms around his neck, grinning. "Let me make it up to you."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Oh?" he asks, settling his hand at her waist as she puts her arms around him. "Okay, I'm listening."

[from_the_outside]

"I brought dinner," she wheedles, "and a few games. What do you say?"

Her smile's still amused, but, hey. She's only human.

"Wanna go on a date with me?"

[nerves_of_ice]

A slow smile spreads across his face as he takes that in.

"How could I possibly say no?"

[from_the_outside]

"You'd be surprised," she says, but she's pleased, leans in and up to kiss him lightly.

"Do you want to sit inside, or outside?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Start outside?" he suggests, a little hesitantly. "Then we can see?"

[from_the_outside]

"Perfect."

She lets go and steps back to head towards the hut and her bags, turning to walk backwards so she can talk to him. "It's nothing fancy, but I thought I'd give you a little break from rice and beans."

The green throw is in her tote; she digs it out and picks up the wicker pack, then looks around. "The tree?"

It's often where they wind up sitting, and it's as nice in the late afternoon as it is in the morning.

[nerves_of_ice]

"The tree," he agrees, and holds out his hand for something to carry.

[from_the_outside]

She hands him the wicker pack, which is definitely packed full and a little cool to the touch, and walks next to him to spread the throw out on the grass.

"Nakia and I went into the markets for a little while today," she says, "and I picked up a few things. You know I don't actually know what your favorite meal is, though? Do you have one?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Uh," he says, as he sets the pack on one side of the throw. "I -- um." The look he gives her is a little uncertain. "Not... really?"

He considers that for a second and tries, carefully, "There are some kinds of food I've liked?"

[from_the_outside]

"Not everybody does." It was a little bit of a Hail Mary and she knew it; she turns it around as easily as she opens the pack and starts taking things out. "Mine's cheeseburgers," she says. "My real mission in life is to find the world's greatest cheeseburger. And I can tell you: it's not in Berlin. Or Wakanda."

It's clear she'd found something, though: honey-spiked fresh fruit and goat cheese with flatbread, some kind of fragrant, saffron-tinted rice, grilled chunks of tender meat, curried vegetables.

Last, she pulls out a bottle of wine – there's more in the pack, but it's for later – and unscrews the cap, pours into two small cups and hands one to him. "It's no chef's course, but not too bad for a last-minute idea, huh?"

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky settles onto one side of the throw, watching with interest. He waits until she has her own cup in hand before leaning in to tap the edge of his against it.

"Not bad at all," he says, smiling. "And I wouldn't have thought you'd find a good burger either place. That's really more an American thing. Like hot dogs. Ever had a Nathan's dog?"