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WHO Bucky & Steve
WHAT Being them while doing normal people things
WHEN Friday afternoon
WHERE Their apartment

Bucky was grateful things had decided to slow down. The world was officially saved with enough trauma for them to be okay with taking a step back from things to let the youngsters pick up the slack for a little bit. It was weird without a doubt, since they got recognized a fair amount if they strayed too far from their little bubble in Brooklyn. People were pretty chill. Some days were definitely worse than others, but his therapist assured him it was just part of the process and he was doing pretty okay. Bucky figured he'd always do pretty okay if Steve was around, which is why he was so glad they'd decided to find a cozy two bedroom apartment to call home.

His room was sparse since he mostly was just in there to sleep. The kitchen was where he really enjoyed being the most. Maybe there was some truth to the idea that it was because he got to do something good and positive with all of his deadly knife skills. Whatever it was, Bucky was grateful for the time and space to figure out something that he could do just for himself. Grocery shopping tended to be something he did on his own too, at least when he was getting stuff for dinner each day. It hadn't been too crazy out, especially given that it was the start of a holiday weekend.

"Must've timed it right. Food was still on the shelves," Bucky called out as he let himself into the apartment. "I promise I didn't get all your favorites, just some of them." He jostled a couple bags around to be able to shut and lock the door behind him before he moved into the kitchen. It wasn't much, just the fixings for hot dogs, homemade hamburgers, corn on the cob, sweet potatoes for fries, and those potato buns that were his favorite. Bucky was working on being occasionally selfish.

"You wanna help me fix up the patties?"

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Even just acknowledging that it was his birthday was often more than Steve wanted. There were more important things going on that day than him. He loved his country, probably more than anyone just in a quiet way and in spite of a lot of things. It was always going to be more important than he was, and despite his history of being on display, Steve didn't actually enjoy the attention.

It was a little different when it was Bucky, though. Steve accepted a lot of things from his oldest friend that he didn't from anyone else. The same way he forgave a lot of things that he probably should have held more of a grudge about.

But it was the small things, the stupid things, the ones that were actually good memories that Steve still mockingly complained about all these years later. Days they'd gone down to the boardwalk or had gotten themselves into some kind of trouble that didn't involve Steve bleeding in an alley and ending up with a black eye.

"Doesn't even have to be a good meal," Steve protested, though honestly that was the best plan for the weekend he could ask for. No excitement pointed his way, no need to play nice with anyone he didn't want to. He'd never cared much about maintaining a public image but he knew he had one all the same, wasn't aiming to do anything that would complicate it. "But yeah. Same as we've ever done."

It was more than he'd ever done in the years he hadn't had Bucky around.

Bucky scoffed playfully. "Like it'd make you a bad meal," he replied, though he knew the comment hadn't been about his cooking skills. It was easier to joke about that then worry about trying to convince Steve he was worthy of just as much, if not more, celebration than that of US Independence. "But I've got a couple years to make up for so may as well make sure it's a good one." Good meaning the way Steve wanted to celebrate.

They didn't talk too much about the five years apart, but he knew it weighed heavily on Steve. He'd known the minute he saw Steve on the battlefield, knew it better still after the fighting had ended. There'd been a minute there when he was worried Steve wouldn't come back from putting the stones back in their proper place. He hadn't had the courage to ask Steve beforehand to come back and he'd breathed a sigh of relief when he had. Bucky didn't think he was ready to press the way he probably needed to, but they had time. Thanks to the serum, they had a lot more time than most.

"I may have gotten you a birthday present though," he warned, still lighthearted. Bucky'd gone with some nice art supplies, a good notebook and a mess of good pencils to draw with. Simple, but good quality stuff, the kind he'd never been able to afford way back when. The kind of stuff Steve had always deserved to have.

There may have been a minute, or two, when Steve had been putting everything back where it belonged, when the fight was done and he was looking at having to settle into some kind of new life yet again, that Steve had genuinely considered not coming back. He didn't talk about that, about the things that could have been, but the world he'd created, the people he had that he would've been leaving behind, he'd known he couldn't have stayed gone.

Not when he'd just gotten Bucky back again. He couldn't be the one to leave, no matter how he feared his friend being somehow taken from him again. That, Steve knew, he couldn't take but the happiness of being together again was worth the risk.

"Buck, you know you didn't need to go to the trouble." Another protest, this time given with a bit of a sigh. Gifts were something he was never good about receiving at any time. But it was something else where Bucky was the exception to the rule; the protest was more token than genuine and he'd appreciate the spirit in which it was given and the usefulness of it. Bucky had never gifted him something frivolous, but then, that wasn't who they were.

Bucky nocked his shoulder with Steve's lightly. "No trouble at all," he replied. "Promise." He'd meant it to be more of a joke but it came out quieter and more sincere. He never wanted Steve to feel like he was a burden, especially when between the two of them, that was squarely his role. "Even give it to you early so it's not officially a birthday present. More of a...happy weekend, here's a gift, kind of thing." He didn't mention it was wrapped but Steve would forgive him that if he decided to open it early.

With the last hamburger patty added to his side of the tray, Bucky moved over to the sink to wash his hands again so that he could battle with the cling wrap on an even playing field. Dinner would be a little while and he still had some more prep work to do, so the burgers would sit in the fridge for a little bit. It'd do them some good, firm them up.

"You wanna put a baseball game on?" The background noise would be good, and they had plenty of teams to choose from. Dodgers or Mets, even the Yanks would do in a pinch. Hopefully the Dodgers were playing so they could have a good game to watch. Plus, it'd give Steve something better to do than just watching him putter around in the kitchen.

Steve gave Bucky a look that was just shy of rolling his eyes, in a fond way at least, that agreed to the compromise. "As long as you didn't waste too much time worrying over what to get, alright. Thank you."

Worrying about the perfect gift to buy Steve was probably better than a lot of the other worrying Bucky did, but Steve didn't want all that energy pointed his way. He'd rather Bucky pointed it toward helping himself, even knowing that his friend would find his way fastest through helping other people. Through helping Steve. That was who he'd always been, but pushing back against it was who Steve was, and the balance they managed to strike in the process was what worked for them.

"I took a look at the score right before you came in; I don't know if you want it on," he noted, amusement creeping into his voice. "The boys're getting their asses handed to them today."

Steve counted himself a Mets fan these days, only because the Dodgers had been stolen out from under them and no self-respecting fan would turn their local attentions to the Yankees. A game really was a game, he'd enjoy even his most hated team playing, but it was still painful to watch the team he did root for get thrashed the way they were. "Already down six in the fifth."

Compromises were good. It meant they were finding solutions, a way forward that worked for both of them. "Nah, had it picked out a couple months ago," Bucky assured him. The good thing was, for as much as the world around them had changed, how much they had changed, some things were still the same. He still knew Stave. The core likes and dislikes, core memories like that Pixar movie that had no business being as on point as it was, they were all still the same. Maybe a few more added in to the mix, but that just meant there were some things for them to learn still about each other. Maybe even about themselves.

Bucky made a face when Steve said their team was losing. "Down six is a big hole," he replied. "Probably not gonna make it back but it'd be a hell of a comeback, huh? Maybe a game from a couple a' days ago?" They'd gotten hooked up with all the tv watching places, though Bucky didn't understand half of them. MLB.tv though, that was pretty straightforward and gave them a chance to watch games if they missed any on TV.

"Pretty sure the Mets took the series against the Marlins but we only caught the first game. Maybe give the second a try? Either that, or I'd say the Dodgers against the Braves'd be a good one. That Freddie Freeman's a real good player and the Braves'll be giving the Mets a run for their money in the division." With all the time on their hands, Bucky was a bit more on top of the baseball news these days, but mostly it was a good way to shoot the shit and just hang out together.

The day he didn't want to spend all his time with Steve was gonna be the day he was dead. Bucky just hoped Steve wouldn't get tired of him before then.

"I'm keeping my hopes low. Seems like Cleveland's been keeping them down." Steve went to turn the game on all the same. It was worth listening to if not worth actually watching. It'd make for something good to have on in the background, at least. And who knew, maybe it would turn around and wind up being a good game that they'd both enjoy in the end. It'd be a hell of a surprise, but it wasn't like it was impossible.

"We can find a decent game later." When they were going to sit down and actually enjoy it. Mediocre to boring was actually better if they weren't going to be giving it their full attention. "But you're right. Freeman's a good addition. He's no Lyn Lary, but he's got some talent. No doubt they'll be making the dumb move to trade him in the next couple years, though."

That was always how it went when there was a good player. They were traded away like it wasn't a stupid idea and Steve grumbled about it every single time.

Bucky couldn't exactly argue with that, but there was plenty of baseball left to play and that was part of what kept things interesting. "Wouldn't mind if someone put the damper on the Yanks for a minute," he replied. More than a dozen games ahead was a hard thing to lose this late in the season, but the All Star break was a funny thing and injuries could happen any time, anywhere to anyone. All Bucky really cared about was that good teams made it through and that the games were good.

"Part of me thinks it was a huge mistake for Atlanta to let him go. He'll end up back there before he retires, I'm sure." There were a lot of good eggs in the sport and if the owners got the hell out of the way, it might actually be pretty great of a sport. Business always got in the way of the right thing when the right thing wasn't profitable. It was rare for players to spend their whole career in one organization these days.

He grabbed some onions and tomatoes, along with the cutting board and a knife to slice up for their burgers. Sometimes, he was a little scared of how comfortable a knife felt in his hand. It was easy to focus on the sounds of the game though, and Steve's steady breathing. It was Steve, more than anything else, that helped keep him steady. Though he wasn't in a spiral or anything like that, he was still learning some of his triggers and how to work through them. So when the knife sliced through the fleshy tomato, he was okay. He didn't get lost in the memories, the sounds, or the feelings of what he was capable of and what he'd been made to do. It was just a tomato, just preparation for dinner.

Slicing things, Steve could have handled. Any part that didn’t include seasoning or knowing when something was done, he could take care of without any concern. But the kitchen was more Bucky’s domain and Steve was happy to let him do his thing. Not only did the food end up better, but his friend seemed more at ease there than he did just about anywhere.

He didn’t miss the little pauses, hesitations, but watching Bucky work through them in the space of a breath was the most reassuring thing he could witness. That, more than anything, let him know he was on the right track for healing. A long road, sure, and one Steve would be there to support every step of the way, but he worried all the same. Just the same as Bucky did for him, except Steve liked to think he was more subtle about it.

Leaning against the counter, he folded his arms loosely, just comfortably present, willing to lend another hand if needed but otherwise staying out of the way where he could keep one eye on the game. It wasn't going any better than it had been when he'd checked on it last.

"I'd be surprised if he didn't. Fair bet that someone makes a good offer and gets him in the next year, maybe two." Hanging out, talking about baseball, was probably the most normal thing he'd done in a long time.

Bucky nodded in agreement and fell into an easy silence as he worked. These quiet moments, just the two of them, were something that he'd missed the most whenever they were apart. He didn't need much to be happy, especially these days. When they were younger, he'd spent a lot of time and energy trying to make sure Steve had a good time, that he got all the things he deserved. Nowadays, just enjoying each other's company was good enough.

He made short work of the onions and tomatoes, wrapped them up when he was done and put them back in the fridge. Next was the lettuce, which was fairly quick, and then all the prep work was done. Before he got cooking, he washed his hands and then said a quiet, "Be right back," to Steve as he headed off towards his bedroom.

Bucky came back a few minutes later with a small-ish package neatly wrapped with the the funny papers from the past couple of weeks. There wasn't a bow or anything - he wasn't that good with paper - but it was maybe a little too neat of a wrapping job for it to be like he'd used to do it. "Here you go," he said as he walked back over to Steve and held it out. "Happy Friday." He gave his best pal a grin, one that went all the way up to his eyes.

Inside the package was a sketchpad and a 60 count colored pencil pack.

Steve couldn’t say that Bucky didn’t know exactly how to make a fist something he didn’t mind receiving. Simple, for a Friday even if that wasn’t the real reason and they both knew it. He couldn’t help the small smile as he took it, carefully removed the paper.

Useful. Not frivolous. Something he would actually get some enjoyment out of and wouldn’t just become clutter somewhere until enough time has passed to politely get rid of it. Of course Bucky had picked out the exact right sort of thing. If anyone would it was going to be him. No one knew Steve better.

His smile broadened as he set the paper aside, opened the sketchpad to run his fingers over the paper. Exactly what he liked. Steve wasn’t a fancy guy.

“Thanks, Buck,” he said genuinely. “This is great.”

That smile was one to live for, that was for damn sure. Bucky would always do everything he could to inspire that look in his best pal's face, but it was something else when it was turned on him. Something warm and filling, like all the cracks in his soul were smoothed away. He didn't deserve to feel that whole after everything he'd done, didn't deserve the balm it provided on his soul. Bucky would never say at much to Steve though, would never turn away from the sunlight no matter how much he thought he didn't deserve it.

"I expect it'll be all filled up by this time next year," he said easily, a hope that it would be filled well before then and with all the things Steve took enjoyment in. Bucky didn't think for a second that he'd be part of those things, at least not unless Steve just wanted to practice on someone. They'd done that a bit in the old days, when Steve asked and Bucky did his best to sit still. He was a lot better at sitting still these days.

"We got a beat before dinner if you want to break it in," Bucky offered, the unspoken part was he'd scoot out if needed. Just to give Steve some peace.

With a glance at the sketchpad, Steve laughed softly. "Oh, I think we'll get there long before next year."

He had a lot more time to draw these days than he ever had since he'd managed to join up. More time now than he'd had since '37. Enough that beyond that, beyond the work he did to help whoever he still could, he didn't really know what to do with himself. Maybe he wasn't cut out for civilian life anymore, but there was no maybe in his mind that Bucky was and that he'd do anything, sacrifice anything, if it was to give Bucky the life he deserved.

Pencils set on the counter, he popped the box open and settled into the first page of drawing paper, leaned comfortably back against the counter as he start some idle doodles. "Try to stop me, pal," he said with an amused grin, keeping his eyes down. He didn't need any peace, never had and actually found a little chaos around him soothing when he drew. "I'm sure you've got lots of puttering around you plan on doing in here in the meantime though."

And so he wasn't going anywhere.

Bucky was glad that Steve anticipated filling it in sooner rather than later. It was hard sometimes to find how to fill the time since there was just too much choice these days. It helped that they weren't used to just sitting around and watching some kind of screen all day. Kids these days had it rough, that was for sure. It wasn't the same kind of rough they'd had themselves, but he could at least admit that it was still rough. A lot of folks their age - their true age, anyway - probably didn't quite see it the same way.

He did chuckle when Steve said to try and stop him, though he couldn't help the slight roll of his eyes. "I ain't never could stop you from doin' anything, jerk," Bucky replied easily, all friendly. That was their dynamic, always was and always would be. "At least this time, you're not likely to get yourself hurt worse than a paper cut." He'd take it, that was for damn sure. "But you're right. I'll putter, you draw and we'll eat in a while."

It felt right. A lot like home. Steve was always going to feel like home.

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