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[notzimniysoldat]

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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[americanass]

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.

[notzimniysoldat]

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.

[americanass]

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.”

[notzimniysoldat]

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.

[americanass]

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.

[notzimniysoldat]

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.