The headaches began after he came out of the ice...

[justakidfrombrklyn]

To say that a lot of things had changed once he'd come out of the ice wasn't just an understatement; it was practically cruel. The worst part in a lot of ways, though, was the way people treated him: as if the ice had preserved him, kept him exactly as he'd been when he'd sent the plane crash landing into the Atlantic.

It couldn't be further from the truth, though.

He'd died. The water had rushed in, the cold had soaked into his bones, the ice had taken over and he'd died and he'd felt it as he'd died. He'd felt the cold, woken up a dozen times stuck in the ice, unable to move and let it consume him, again and again. He still had nightmares about it, nightmares he didn't share because they were so ridiculous in some ways, debilitating in others.

And then there were the headaches.

He only got them occasionally, a strange buzz beginning behind his eyes and around, his eyes shifting unbidden as if he could find the cause for something that was going on inside his own head. And yet, sometimes it really felt like he could. He'd look around, the feeling exploding inside his skull, and he'd suddenly meet eyes with someone and the feeling would suddenly vanish. Usually, the person in question would blink at him and rush off, which was fair since one of the cardinal rules of walking around a large city was to avoid eye contact unless necessary. He didn't think too much about it until he went back to Europe, back at war again in his search for his lost... friend...

Which was when the buzzing headaches started to get far more frequent.

Sam, the finest companion a man could ask for, had decided to follow a lead in Madrid that Natasha had sent their way (one that would have been set off badly had Captain America's well-known mug shown up) which had left Steve enjoying the sights and snooping around Paris for the time being. Thankfully, there was a lot to see, a lot to investigate, but also... a lot to draw.

Beautiful things to draw.

He was halfway through sketching out a panel of the Arc De Triomph when he felt it there, head lifting from the paper to try and find the 'cause'. This was getting mildly ridiculous...

Comments

[justakidfrombrklyn]

"Same tone of voice. You didn't kiss Maria Giardelli... and you only have twenty guns up here. That's all I'm sayin'," but he looked terribly smug about it.

[nobodystaysdead]

Bucky scowls at him.

"They're both the truth, okay? She kissed me."

[justakidfrombrklyn]

He stepped a little closer and leaned in just a bit.

"I knew it."

And his eyes... his eyes were full of mirth and affection and deep, bottomless love for the man he was looking at. All the stupid shit and all the important shit and everything else... Bucky, his Bucky...

"I can't blame her."

[nobodystaysdead]

Something flickers in him, some odd jolt of emotion he can't quite place, but it comes in response to that look in Steve's eyes.

"Yeah?"

[justakidfrombrklyn]

Steve was the one to turn a bit pink there, the color showing at his eartips.

"Yeah."

[nobodystaysdead]

"Steve..."

[justakidfrombrklyn]

He held up a finger.

"If you want me to let you go, Buck, don't go here. Cause we go here, and I'm not lettin' go, not for anything."

[nobodystaysdead]

He shakes his head-- and then shakes it again, the motion seeming to help with rattling things into place in his mind.

"I think it's too late for that, Steve."

[justakidfrombrklyn]

"Then... c'mere," he says, leaving one arm open for him. He won't come for him. Now, here, Buck has to come to him.

[nobodystaysdead]

His brain is still a jumble, in some ways, but Bucky's body moves for him, arms wrapping around Steve, and holding tight like he's never gonna let go.

[justakidfrombrklyn]

Steve's arm wraps around him in return and he's ducking down, holding him close and breathing him in and letting his forehead rest against Bucky's temple, just breathing slow.

[nobodystaysdead]

Steve is. Steve is warm, and alive, and he smells like Steve.

And Bucky's not gonna let him go.

[justakidfrombrklyn]

Steve wasn't planning on letting him go anyway. Instead, he curled a little tighter around him and buried his face in Bucky's hair.

"I'm... so glad you're here."

[nobodystaysdead]

"Y'shouldn't be. I'm still not right, Steve."

He's still not letting go.

[justakidfrombrklyn]

"Me neither," he admitted softly, "but you're right enough for me."

[nobodystaysdead]

"Sappy asshole."

[justakidfrombrklyn]

"Jerk," was his only response before giving him another quick squeeze.

[nobodystaysdead]

"...the hell do I do now, Steve?"

[justakidfrombrklyn]

He breathed in and out and thought for a second before--

"For right now, you come downstairs and... we get some dinner. Find out what we got ourselves into. Then, you and me and--"

Blink.

"Sam. Damn."

[nobodystaysdead]

He blinks, and glances toward Steve's pocket.

"The Falcon?" He feels a brief stab of-- guilt? He thinks so.

[justakidfrombrklyn]

He nodded.

"His name is Sam."

He smiled a little.

"I'd tell you he's in Spain, but I have a feeling you knew that."

[nobodystaysdead]

He nods.

"Yeah. I know where all of them are."

[justakidfrombrklyn]

"And you've just been leading me on a merry chase, huh?" he asked,keeping the teasing gentle.

[nobodystaysdead]

"Kept you out of trouble, didn't I?" Until now, anyway, but he couldn't allow for variables he had no idea of.

[justakidfrombrklyn]

"I probably don't want to know how many people you've taken out, do I?" He asked lightly.