8862/White Lies Wound

White Lies Wound
Date of Scene:	19 August 2019
Location:	Flatbush, Brooklyn
Synopsis:	Steve receives some unfortunate news from Bucky, but one thing is clear: the Brooklyn Boys are all for sticking their noses into trouble, even if it's served on a silver platter from a silver, forked tongue.
Cast of Characters:	Exile, Captain America, Winter Soldier

---

Exile has posed:
It's night. Buck's an early bird these days, home and to bed, for the most part. But he's texted Steve for a meeting, and marked it urgent. Never a good sign.

And when Steve arrives, Buck's already in the kitchen. There are beers set out, and he's got one in hand, sitting at the kitchen table. Lili's sprawled across his feet, deeply asleep. Buck, though, is holding himself with that kind of tight stillness that means he's reining in real distress.

Captain America has posed:
Not only marked urgent, but marked off-grid -- inasmuch as Steve's Brooklyn-based apartment and 'off-grid' can be, which is not on the grounds of the Triskelion, neutral and safe zone for the retired assassin. Natasha coached the Captain long ago: in order to avoid attracting attention, walk, don't run, even if the tickling scream at the base of your spine demands it.

As such, even footfalls announce Steve even before he opens up the apartment door with his own set of keys. He's...got his shield on his arm, as if he half-expected to cautiously open it and find a Mexican stand-off or some other brewing catastrophe present. Jeans and a t-shirt beneath a light button-down polo meant he'd actually escaped work early for once. Espying Bucky, he steps in and quickly closes the door, locking it tightly as well as double-deadbolting it. Forget taking off boot, he walks across the kitchen and stops himself short. Hands spread and clench; it's a hug averted, uncertain as if this is the immediate answer.

"Who do I need to kill?" he quips almost painfully, the humor tight as the lines around his eyes.

Winter Soldier has posed:
There's no one here to impress, no one to be stoic for. Steve knows him too well....so Buck simply rises and holds his arms out to Steve. Steve's a hugger, it's okay. The embrace only confirms that impression of piano wire tension, though.

Once he steps back, sits back down, he says, quietly, "Well, that's the question. Remember last winter, when that guy woke me up, and we thought he'd killed the other guy, the one who's given me so much trouble for so long?" Yeah, it's Steve's apartment, close to a safehouse for him.....but he still doesn't trust that there are no listening ears.

Captain America has posed:
Damn straight, Steve's a hugger with the ones he calls his own. The Soldier is gathered into his arms and squished, though not too hard. Tension strung enough to vibrate isn't missed through physical contact either. The shield is set aside to lean against the island counter's base and as he straightens, a terrible stillness takes over the Captain's body.

Bucky will recognize it: dread -- dread followed by the flint-spark of what is the kindling of the same defensive rage that led the blond super-soldier to leave a bloody trail of HYDRA soldiers behind him post-train. For now, it's merely a fell glow in the back of Steve's eyes as he looks down at his oldest friend.

"Yeah, I remember that guy," he says slowly, deliberately.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Buck looks down at Lili, who has come to lean against him. "So, yeah, I ended up owing him another favor. Back to two. Second one he wants, post-haste - another mission like the last one. Cleaning up more of those HYDRA allies and acccompanying assholes. Doesn't sound so bad, but I don't think I can solo this one. Thought I'd ask for your help, maybe someone else. But yeah, Frosty's still sleeping, not dead." He licks his lips, picks up the beer bottle and finishes half of it in a few swallows.

Captain America has posed:
Steve visibly jerks back at the intial news. His hand rises to rub beneath his ear, as if he were dealing with an impending charlie-horse in his neck, and then freezes. At the second half of the news, he lets out the rest of the air in his lungs.

Blood leaves his face splotched at his cheeks and then? Full reverse, until it's not a blush: it's something nearly apoplectic. His feet must be going numb from lack of blood.

"Did he -- what did -- not - dead?" Each word is bitten out through teeth clenched shut.

Winter Soldier has posed:
The look in James's eyes is terrible. The hopeless bleakness of a trapped animal, as he nods, never looking away from Steve.

"Yeah," he says, numbly. "That guy....he's in the Wizard Doctor's place now. And he didn't kill my doppelganger. Just put him to sleep. Which means that any time he wants to, he could wake the sleeper right up. I asked him why he didn't - but he says that he wants me to....to be able to be creative, in a way that an automaton isn't."

Captain America has posed:
This is enough to deflate Steve's initial ire. With stomach still twisting upon itself, he buries his face behind his hands. A one-two scrub, quick, messes up his bangs all to hell and back. Chair legs scrape across the floor as he then seats himself. He gives Bucky a searching look, eyes still sharp as flint, before folding his arms. The beers are ignored for now.

"You're telling me L...that guy is in Doctor Strange's house and the Doctor's not and there's another favor and I should help you with this favor...and he could, at any time, make me use those two words again?"

Yes, those two words, the only incapacitating blow available to Barnes' brother-in-arms.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"Well, they don't work right now, the words," Buck says, more mildly. "And yeah, you could. I've got SHIELD backup coming on this one. I told the boss lady and she was firm on that point. You don't have to come." Like it's an unpleasant party. "I mean, as for the words....you could try 'em now, prove it to yourself, you know?"

He rubs at his own face, so clearly exhausted by the thought. As if he'd found out the cancer that was in remission.....was no longer.

Captain America has posed:
"No, I..." Steve licks his lips as words fail him. He marks the weariness haunting his friend's face and his innards squirm yet again. The consuming need to punch the nearest non-living object nearly overwhelms him; his fingers clench into the fabric of his shirt until he accidentally pinches skin on the underside of his biceps between closing knuckles, jolting himself out of the moment.

"God, Buck, I don't //want// to have to see if the words work." True-blues squint up at the ceiling, as if he were appealing to someone on high for sanity. "You told May." He asks to confirm this, voice flat. "And you're sitting here thinking I'm NOT going to come on this goddamn escapade?"

Winter Soldier has posed:
"Yeah, I told her. I'm a free man because of SHIELD - without their sufferance...." Buck trails off. He's gone back to that kind of almost statue-like reserve, lips thinned out. "I can't afford to do this one off the rez."

But then there's a funny, sheepish little grin. "I mean, I didn't figure you'd stay home and count your marbles, but....y'know, you've got your other gig these days." The Avengers.

Captain America has posed:
With a knee-jerk sharpness hailing back to their younger years, it slips out: "Screw the other gig." Steve then shakes his head with a wince and spans his nose with his hand, rubbing at his eyes. "No, //not// screw the other gig, just..." His other arm remains tucked across his body as he then indulges in a a far slower repetition of massaging his own eyeballs.

"On the scale of things, tolerable to FUBAR, the Battle of New York still gives me nightmares. That...//guy//," he stresses in something near a growl, "...was responsible for that. All of it. Sentinel robots are a nightmare, but nothing like what this guy can accomplish. The Avengers can function without me for a day, they've done it before when I've gone off the radar." Nobody liked or appreciated it, but that's how the cookies crumbled at the time. "'m not about to let him get you by the shorts, not without going through me first."

And that is a solemn Rogers promise given the set of jaw when Steve's face emerges from behind his hand.

Winter Soldier has posed:
There's something in the pale eyes - remote and weary, still, but pleased. "Okay, good. Twelve hours suit you? We can kick the can down the road timeline wise some, but..." He sighs, softly. "Sooner this one's done the better. I got a bad feeling about it."

Captain America has posed:
Steve takes a moment to think. It does require some effort, given the tizzy he's in beneath his skin, but he nods curtly after confirming it to be time-line appropriate.

"Yes, twelve hours is doable. I'll be at the Trisk with bells on." His eyes dart for a second to the shield; of course with the spangled disc on his arm as well. Barnes had made no note thus far about anonymity being a priority. "What else do I need to know, Buck?" Again, he levels a searching look on his friend. Long experience will mark this as Steve at his most Captain-like, planning and counter-planning and sure to sleep horribly in the upcoming hours.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"Nothin' I can think of, honestly," Buck's voice is low. "This was a random hit. I was hoping he'd forgotten about me. Hadn't run into him in a while. Hell of a thing - I wasn't looking for him. Was looking for another contact..."

Buck shakes his head. That frozen look is there again. He can't get out of this, can he? Never can.

Captain America has posed:
"Well...he's the god of tricks. Thing about a trick is nobody's expecting it..." the Captain admits with as much delight as to be found at a funeral. His eyes fall to rest on the label of the beer bottles set out. They're a favored taste, if utter failure to get either of them sotted. The corner of one label is beginning to peel with the condensation gathering on the misty outside of the glass. Reaching out, he takes one and tilts it back to his lips, killing half the bottle in one go.

A hard sigh. "Buck." He waits to see if he can catch Bucky's eyes. "You've survived mountains. Bullets. Decades on your own, doing god only knows what, 'nd you're here - now - 'nd 'm here too. Nobody's gonna make you do something you don't want again, not on my watch. 'm not a martyr, not..." His short laugh is hollow and he lifts a hand as if to beg avoidance of being called out. "Those words...I'll use 'em if I have to, if...if it comes to it."

Winter Soldier has posed:
Another knife edge grin, as he tips the mouth of the nearly empty bottle towards Steve in acknowledgement. "That's the Catch-22, isn't it? He brings the words back into play, you c'n at least shut me down with 'em. I don't want it to happen, but damn, I'm grateful you've got your finger on that switch."

There's a loud sigh from his knee, as Lili gazes up at him. What'm I, chopped liver?

Captain America has posed:
Steve tries for a smile, but it ends up being this tight pull of cheeks and his lips eventually fold inwards. Rolling the bottom of the beer bottle around its edge on the table makes a hollow grinding sound.

"Wish a helluva lot more I didn't have to know 'em, Buck," he replies quietly, of the words. "'nd I'll be honest with you, 'm not about to share 'em with SHIELD either. Less people that know 'em, the better. Didn't last time I had to use 'em." Eidetic memory supplies him with the black-suited SWAT team's leader asking, flabbergasted, what in the hell Steve did -- Steve, standing there, haunted, looking down at the prone body of the man who had just attempted to bisect his eyeball on the way to delivering a knife to his brain -- where he'd just seen a flash of the old Brooklyn brother-sans-blood he once knew.

Winter Soldier has posed:
That haunted look meets Steve's gaze. "Ultimately....you're the only one I trust with 'em," he admits. Then looks down again, as Lili puts a forepaw on his leg. Human. Human. You are forgetting something.

"Man, she's the best gift you ever gave me," he says, with a shaky little smile. "I'd never'a thought you could train a dog to fight nightmares, but she does."

Captain America has posed:
Instead of trying to explain the twisted upwelling of gratitude -- too much like being the one courted to hold a gun in defense against the worst -- Steve simply nods in agreement and finishes the rest of the beer. The empty bottle is set aside for another one. At least he's remembering to taste the alcohol.

Lili, however, is given a look of thankfulness almost glossy from the Captain. "'Til I met Cricket, I didn't think you could either." Cricket being a fellow PTSD service dog, a chocolate lab, Steve had met on one of his visits to the many VA Centers around the ity. "Sometimes, 'm a little jealous," he admits in a rare view into his own internal workings. A deep swig of his beer follows.

Winter Soldier has posed:
There's a very dry look at that, across the table. Buck's only now remembering the possibility of a second drink. He snags a bottle and pops it open with a metal thumb. "Steve, you've got a girlfriend," he points out, in that grating voice. "You've got someone to wake you up from nightmares." Tone light, teasing.

Captain America has posed:
The Captain's mouth opens. It closes. It opens again, forms some series of syllables, before he closes his eyes and just accedes the point with a demure tuck of chin and lift of eyebrows. Both hands rise to boot, some fingers flaring off the grip around the sweating beer bottle's body.

"I'll give you that one," he allows with a dry little smirk. "Still...she's been dealing with her own ghosts lately. I can't lean on her too hard. She's her own person." There it is, the hard-headed belief that he can withstand anything the world sets in his path.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"Lean on me a little harder again, if it won't have her sure we're a thing," Ooh, now he's going to dig in on the Captain's tender underbelly, as a welcome distraction from the frozen ghost living in the back of his brain. Lili will earn her keep tonight - the nightmares will be gathering thick as sheep on a green hillside.

Captain America has posed:
Steve narrows his eyes across the table. His lips faintly purse before curling up at one corner.

"Got a good number of memories involving me leaning on you 'nd you sounding like my sainted mother -- or nailing me in the ribs with your goddamn elbow for something I apparently brought on myself. You sure you want me leaning on you again? Lot more of me to lean now." How much of that is mockery of his own build and how much of that is sharp, introspective admission of what weights he carries on his shoulders?

Winter Soldier has posed:
Humor and teasing instantly aside - there's that cool, clear gaze. "Your mother was right about plenty. So was mine. But sure, Steve. You've always bottled things up way too damn much. Whatever you got shot full of back in '43, you're still human. So am I, for that matter. I know you....better'n anyone else does. I'm one of a very few people still alive who remember you from before Erskine, let alone before getting frozen. I bet good money you guard yourself even from Janet on that front."

Captain America has posed:
His eyeroll spans the entire room as well as horizon to horizon. Steve then looks off to one side and folds his arms again, still holding his drink. It sloshes and nearly spills, stopped by the long neck of the bottle.

"Tried explaining it. It worked." Except for he really only tried once and there were many other things going on...and he hasn't tried since.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Buck just lowers his head a fraction, looks at Steve from under his brows. Lili turns to look at Steve, ears pricking forward. Two very skeptical faces aimed his way.

"Whaddaya mean, you tried explaining it and it worked?" Buck asks, and that tone is still in his voice. Pull the other one, Steven.

Captain America has posed:
"Exactly what I said. I tried explaining it and it worked," replies the Captain, still not looking back at his oldest friend. "She understands. There's been a lot on her plate right now, so it's not a good time to revisit it."

A quick scooting sound is him fidgeting, his boot-soles planted on the wooden base of the table and pushing. He gets the chair tilted up and begins to balance, still frowning down at the empty space where a plate might sit before him.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"Steve," Buck's voice is gentle. But then he lifts his hands, palm out. "Nevermind," He can't really be any help there - that wilderness is Steve's alone to negotiate. It'll work or it won't. He ruffles Lili's ears, and she blows a huffing breath, happy at the attention.

Captain America has posed:
"Good."

And by his tone, he's not sure if he's truly fine with the line of conversation ending here or resentfully relieved. His eyes finally rise and linger on Bucky while the man's occupied with giving Lili the love she's been silently asking for. A slow sigh leaves him yet again. Steve, the melodramatic sigher, is here in full effect. Beer burbles as he kills his second bottle and sets it aside. There's a few more left and he considers them before smacking his lips.

"Look, Buck... You know 'm there for you, right? Until the end of the line." He lets the chair fall forwards with a quiet thump and leans in, arms rested on the table now, in order to give Barnes a very open, sincere look.

Winter Soldier has posed:
There's real affection there, as he looks up, smiles wearily at Steve. "I know, buddy," he says, before looking back down to the dog. She's wearing a look of canine bliss, all squinted with pleasure, ears flopped out to the sides.

Captain America has posed:
"Good."

This contains worlds more of relief, true instead of squeezed from a stone. With a finger, he directs one of the last bottles of beer towards Bucky, leaving a smear of water across the treated surface of the table. In the weather, this is sure to evaporate with enough time.

"Drink this. We'll toast to..." Another bottle top clinkity-rattles lightly away on the table. Steve thinks. "...to making arrogant assholes eat their words." He offers the neck of the bottle towards Bucky, his eyebrows lifted as if to seek approval.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Buck, too, has dimples, even if they're as rare as a panda in a bamboo grove. There they are, as he lifts his own bottle, leans over to clink glasses.

His reply, however, is a sing-song tattle-tale voice, "Steve said a swear!"

Captain America has posed:
"Damn straight I did," the Captain shoots back before he smirks, puckish, the expression absent of contrition and about as rare as the Barnesian dimplies. He takes a long swig of his beer as is customary after such a toast and sets the bottle aside. In an attempt to turn the conversation as far away as possible from extraterrestrial gods promising false boons and the difficulties of dating, he asks of his oldest friend,

"Are you as disappointed at the bananas of today as I am?"

Winter Soldier has posed:
Winter Soldier pulls a face. "I'm disappointed in nearly all the fruit I meet nowadays. The hell did they do to apples and bananas. They both taste like nothing."

His tone is laced with scorn. Lili's expression immediately looks concerned.

Captain America has posed:
"Right, they're like cardboard -- like, they're trying to ripe and failing. The bananas used to be..." Steve's eyes go distant over his friend's right shoulder and a wistful pull to his mouth appears. "Sweeter. Creamier. The real good part of a banana split...not that I'd know," he admits in a grousing tone, sipping at his beer again.

His hand is subtly slipped to linger in a hang next to his chair, as if he might sneak a chance to pet the German Shepherd giving him the most perplexed eyebrows. He gets his chance and indulges the wonderful creature in a lingering scalp massage, aiming to make her doggy smile. This, he achieves, and is most pleased for it -- the moment is filed away as simple happiness.