[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]

He huffs out a soft breath of what might be amused laughter.

"My mistake, then," he says, and reaches for another piece of fruit.

[from_the_outside]

"Well," she says, arch over the rim of her cup, "I guess I could always use a few more."

It is a nice thought, that maybe someday she'd find a place that feels as much like her as it does like itself. Somewhere she belongs, somewhere she can put down roots. "Besides, I'm pretty happy right here in Wakanda for now."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Wakanda's nice," he agrees. "One of these days I'm going to do a photo study over the course of a day. Or a week."

[from_the_outside]

"That sounds like a great project."

She has another bite of bread and cheese and fruit and smiles at him. "You should show me some of your photos. There must be some you like so far, right?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Some," he admits. He studies her, and the corners of his mouth curve slightly upward. "I will, if you want."

[from_the_outside]

"I do want," she assures him, smiling at that faint smile. "I don't know much about photography, but maybe I can extrapolate from my old art history classes."

Not that it matters. She's interested in his photos, the things he finds interesting or beautiful enough to try and capture, not the process of photography itself.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Okay," he says, even as his expression turns more rueful. "But if it's actual art you want to see you should talk to Steve instead. These are just pictures."

[from_the_outside]

"I want to see your pictures," she points out, undeterred.

He's enjoyed taking them, she knows, and that's the point.

(Although she's going to have to do something about that strap he keeps having to adjust.)

[nerves_of_ice]

"Okay," he repeats, amused now. "I'll show you."

[from_the_outside]

"Good," she says, in the satisfied tone of someone who has gotten their way.

Maybe he didn't actually put up a fight, but she still thinks it counts.

[nerves_of_ice]

He finishes the piece of bread he's been working on and nods to her cup. "Do you want more?"

[from_the_outside]

"Sure."

She nudges it towards him, her mouth quirking. "Not as good as the pinot gris in Leipzig, but it's not bad, huh?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Like I said then, I'll trust your judgment when it comes to wine," he tells her. "But yes, it's good."

He gives a thoughtful look around at the picnic spread out on the green throw as he picks up the bottle and refills both their cups, then looks back at her, just as thoughtfully.

[from_the_outside]

She gives him a mock-thoughtful look in return as she sips at her wine, before digging back into the vegetables and rice.

Evenings like this, it's hard to imagine that by this time next week he'll be back under and she'll be...

Here, maybe. Or somewhere out on the op.

Neither of which she wants to think about just now.

[nerves_of_ice]

As he remembers that night in Leipzig -- well, sometimes he still thinks she would have been happier with Steve, but Steve had been very clear about it. And she'd been stubborn, too.

The corner of his mouth quirks up again as he takes another sip of wine, then leans on his elbow, watching her.

"Pretty evening," he observes.

[from_the_outside]

"Seems like it always is, here," she says, watching him relax. It's not quite to the level of how he'd lain in the sun like a rug someone had thrown there, but she's satisfied for now.

"Hardly ever rains? Beautiful sunsets? The best company? Perfect for a picnic."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I'm not sure if I'm the best company," he drawls, "but otherwise I'll agree with that."

"And you're really good at putting together picnics."

[from_the_outside]

"I told you, it's one of my many winning qualities."

She sips at her wine and settles to sit on her hip, mouth twitching. "And that's okay. It only matters if I think you are. You're not keeping yourself company."

[nerves_of_ice]

He raises his eyebrows at that.

"Oh, so what I think doesn't matter?"

[from_the_outside]

She laughs and shakes her head.

"You can't honestly think I'm going to fall for that."

[nerves_of_ice]

He grins, quick and bright.

"Had to check."

[from_the_outside]

She grins back and pops a piece of fruit into her mouth.

"And I know I'm good company, so..."

She can't even finish the sentence without laughing.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Can't argue with that," Bucky says. "Even when you're giving me grief."

[from_the_outside]

"I better hope so," she says, and leans over to give him a kiss, smiling against his mouth.

"Seeing as that's most of the time."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I don't mind," he murmurs, after the kiss breaks. "In a way, it's kind of nice."