[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]

He shrugs, not denying it.

“Like I said. I’ve dealt with worse.”

[from_the_outside]

"Great," she says. She's tired and on edge and it's not his fault but – "that's really helpful for now."

It's not his fault. And he's just trying to make it easier on everyone. She digs the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to rub out her exasperation, then goes back to the glass she'd left before and tucks it away into the cabinet. "At least we've got a little more breathing room."

[nerves_of_ice]

He comes up behind her and sets his hands lightly on her shoulders.

“We do.”

[from_the_outside]

Her shoulders under his hands are hard as rock, but she huffs out a breath and turns, slowly, so he won't back away. "I wish I knew how to make it better," she tells him, as her hands go to his hips.

"I know what helps me when I feel like this. I don't know what helps you. But something must, right?"

[nerves_of_ice]

“What helps you?” He squeezes her shoulders gently, relaxes and repeating, almost a massage.

[from_the_outside]

"Hitting things," she says. "Venting. Getting a good night's sleep."

She gives him a faintly wry half-smile. "Maybe you can finally get that last one, at least."

[nerves_of_ice]

“Anything’s possible.” He lowers his head to rest his forehead against hers.

[from_the_outside]

She closes her eyes and blows out a breath as his forehead comes to rest against hers, then loops her arms around his waist, linked hands settling in the small of his back.

"Sorry," she says, quietly. "I shouldn't snap. But I'm worried about you."

Opening her eyes again, she meets his gaze, so close now to hers. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep?"

[nerves_of_ice]

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs at her question. “I’ll try.”

[from_the_outside]

"It's okay. I worry professionally."

But she can hardly pretend there's much professional in her behavior toward him anymore.

Maybe she should recuse herself... but she can't think of a single other agent that would be willing to give him even the smallest benefit of the doubt. "Would it be easier if I slept in a different room tonight?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He pulls back enough to search her face.

"Do you want to?"

[from_the_outside]

"If it'll help you sleep better, yes."

They've only spent two nights together. It's much more unusual for her to stay with him than for her to sleep in a separate room.

But – "Otherwise, no."

[nerves_of_ice]

"It won't." Very, very softly. "At least, I don't think it will. So you don't have to ... worry about that. But if I have -- when I have -- anyway, I'll try not to wake you up."

[from_the_outside]

"I won't mind if you do," she tells him.

"I'd rather wake up than leave you alone in the dark."

[nerves_of_ice]

One corner of his mouth quirks up at that, and he touches her cheek for an instant before he lets his hand drop.

"Come on. Let's get you settled. And me too, I guess."

[from_the_outside]

"Okay."

She gently squeezes her arms around him before letting go so he can step back. "Let's give it a whirl."

[nerves_of_ice]

His pack and her bag are still in the hall. It doesn't take long to pick them up - he takes both, refusing to let Sharon carry her own - and switch out the lights and so on before following Sharon upstairs, past the guest rooms, down to her space.

He waits for her to open the door and walk in first, then follows.

[from_the_outside]

The room has very obviously been Sharon's since childhood: there's a small writing desk under the window; a framed photo with her and her aunt Peggy on the dresser, another of her at her graduation dressed in cap and gown with her parents beaming to either side; a small bookshelf filled half with books and half with trophies; a closet half-full of clothes she doesn't wear any more and plastic storage bins full of who knows what – things she packed away long ago and can't even remember anymore.

But it's neat and clean and the bed is covered in the same kind of heirloom quilt that's in the room Bucky slept in before; she sits on the edge of the bed and toes off her sneakers, tugs the elastic out of her hair.

"You can put those down anywhere."

[nerves_of_ice]

Her words shake him out of his fascinated examination of the room, taking in every nuance.

"Right." He leans his pack against the side of the dresser and carries her bag over to the side of the bed where she's sitting.

[from_the_outside]

She watches him as he blinks back into himself, amused.

"Look around, if you want," she says, gesturing at the room. "I'm sure there are a few embarrassing secrets you could unearth if you really tried."

[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."