[AU] a piercing comfort it affords

[from_the_outside]

For such a busy morning, the afternoon and evening prove remarkably quiet. Sharon's tired to her core, but she finds it just as difficult to rest as Bucky does, when she tries to cajole him into a nap. He only shakes his head at her, acquiescing to rest on the couch without actually sleeping.

She doesn't ask why. She's listening for the sound of Iron Man's repulsers just like he is.

But nothing comes, even after she's called Ross to update him and learn that the JTTF translators and analysts had come to the same conclusion she and Bucky had: that Zemo planned to impersonate him and set a bomb to spark a manhunt for the Winter Soldier.

Ross sounds grim as he tells her they'll need to find some more permanent solution to the power outage problem, then hangs up after he's extracted a promise from her to check in as soon as she learns anything.

Dinner is a quiet affair. Jet lag has her by the throat, but she can't sleep until she hears back from Steve and knows for certain that Tony won't be crashing down on them again.

If he does, she needs to be ready.

Comments

[nerves_of_ice]

"I can't imagine there'd be anything that embarrassing." He glances around, unable to help himself, then looks back at her.

"Sorry. It's just different, that's all."

[from_the_outside]

She shakes off the apology. "Nothing to be sorry about," she says. "It makes sense you're curious."

Folding her legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed, she sets her cheek on her palm and watches him. "Different from what?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He drifts over to the bookshelf, studying the trophies. "Well, I mean... you know Steve and I went to high school during the Depression, right?"

[from_the_outside]

"Yeah."

God, this has got to be beyond weird. Every kind of small luxury, just lying around. "Did you have a room of your own?"

Is that a rude question? She's really not sure. Looking around, she tries to see her space through unfamiliar eyes. "This probably seems like a lot, huh?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Just different," he reassures her. Bucky touches one of the trophies with a gentle hand, casts a glance over the books' spines, and goes to look at the picture of Sharon with her aunt for a moment or two.

"I did for a while, until I moved out to give the girls more space. They needed it more than I did. Had a one-room place on my own after that for a bit, until Steve's mom passed, then I got him to move in with me." He shakes his head at that and moves to the writing desk, trailing his fingers lightly over the surface. "We didn't have much, but it worked out okay for us. He'd have loved a desk like that, though, I'm sure, for drawing."

He sounds matter of fact about it all as he turns back to face her. "Anyway, the schools themselves didn't have a lot either, at least not in our part of Brooklyn. Real crowded, real thin on funds. No cash for trophies, I figure, but other stuff was more important."

A small, wry smile quirks one corner of his mouth. "I'd have lost it all by now anyway, so. I saw the museum exhibit, and I figure that's pretty much all that's left."

[from_the_outside]

She shrugs, a little uncomfortable. "The trophies don't mean much," she tells him. "Sports. Some school things. Nothing real."

But she'd earned them and she'd been proud of them and she'd kept them all this time, and not just because her parents wanted her to. The garish gold paint on the plastic statuettes gleams just as brightly as it did back when she was a kid: field days, debate team, tennis, softball – she'd been good.

And competitive. No surprise there. "Sisters, right?"

The things she knows about his past come from Aunt Peggy's memories, typed files, and the same museum exhibit he's talking about. "Maybe they kept some of your things."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Right. And maybe they did," he agrees, leaving it at that. Bucky's studying her closely now, rather than the room, having picked up on that hint of discomfort.

"Real enough. Memories, accomplishments, that kind of thing - that's still something. Something good."

[from_the_outside]

She smiles a little and doesn't argue.

(So much of what's in here is utterly frivolous. The trophies. The keepsakes from her sorority days. The gown in the closet. It's an intensely strange feeling, when she pits it against a childhood growing up in the Great Depression.)

"I can just see you and Steve in a little studio apartment," she says, instead. "That must have been great."

[nerves_of_ice]

He chuckles. "It sure was. Although I probably drove him crazy sometimes." He hesitates, but only for a moment.

"We've been through a lot together. And apart, too, come to that, but ... " Bucky meets her eyes. "He's got a good life. I don't want to screw it up for him."

Forestalling one question before it can arise, he hastily adds, "I don't mean to run again. I promised, and I won't. But what Zemo tried to do - that's - I can't be the one who ruins it all for him. No matter what. I can't."

[from_the_outside]

"Hey."

She gets up and pads over to him on near-silent bare feet, reaching for his hands as she gets close. "You won't. We're not going to let anything like that happen."

Squeezing his fingers, she smiles up at him. "Besides, he's got you back now for the first time in decades. If you think he's not over the moon about that, think again. He's not thinking about anything getting ruined, Bucky. A hundred bucks says all he's thinking about is everything the two of you finally get to have again."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I know he is. I just..." He trails off there, looking down at her face, at her hands holding his, at the gleam of his left hand against her skin.

"I can't help but worry about it sometimes, is all."

[from_the_outside]

She nods, laces her fingers through his – right hand and left, both. "I can get that," she tells him.

"I might not be able to understand everything about all this – about you and him – but I understand not wanting to hurt the people I care about most, even by accident. And you've got people again, Bucky. Me, and Steve, and Nat – hell, even Vision and Sam. You're not in this alone."

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods, then draws her hands upward to press a gentle kiss to each one before letting go.

"You need to get some rest."

[from_the_outside]

"I think I've hit my third or fourth wind," she tells him.

"If you're not tired yet, I don't mind staying up with you."

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky just looks at her, and waits.

[from_the_outside]

"Seriously," she says, amused.

With the jet lag, it's got to be close to twenty four hours since she woke up, and she's rapidly reaching a point past tired and barreling towards vibrating with exhaustion, but she could do it.

Even without the super-soldier serum.

[nerves_of_ice]

"I know. You mean it."

He shakes his head.

"Get ready for bed, Sharon. I'll do the same."

[from_the_outside]

"There you go."

She leans up to kiss him, softly, then pulls back and away to open her pack and take out her toothbrush and toothpaste, face wash and moisturizer before heading out into the hall, towards the bathroom.

[nerves_of_ice]

When she comes back, she'll find Bucky's clothes neatly folded and hanging over the back of the desk chair, his pack resting beside it, and the man himself turning down the bed with military precision, dressed in boxers and a white t-shirt.

[from_the_outside]

She sets her own pack and folded clothes on the desk itself; she's dressed in a white camisole and light pajama shorts, and she looks at him with a small, private smile.

"We're a long way from the inn at Polygyros, huh?"

It seems like a lifetime ago.

[nerves_of_ice]

"We sure are." He'd never imagined anything like this, and wouldn't have believed it possible.

Bucky finishes with the sheets and gently smooths the quilt over them before turning to face her. "I won't be long," he promises.

[from_the_outside]

"I'll be here."

She hits the room light and slips into the sheets once he's gone, clicking on a small lamp on the bedside table. It casts a small sphere of warm light, just enough so he'll be able to see easily and so she won't strain her eyes checking her phone.

[nerves_of_ice]

He grabs his pack and disappears down the hall. As promised, it doesn't take long before he returns, hair towel-dried and tousled.

Bucky dumps his pack back by the desk and takes the other side of the bed, lying down flat beside her.

[from_the_outside]

Once he's settled, she clicks off the light and puts her phone face-down on the table, then turns onto her side to look at him, sliding her hand and arm up under her pillow and waiting for her eyes to adjust in the dark.

"Comfortable?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Mm-hm. Are you?"

He figures it won't take long before exhaustion overcomes her. For that matter, he feels the weight in his own bones from insufficient sleep, not that he wants to admit it.