forum Marvel AU OxO?

Started November 29, 2019 by @ElderGod-Icefire

tune

"Thanks," Steve nodded, loading the dishwasher and eyeing a brewed pot of coffee. Whoops. "Do you want some coffee? I forgot– I made some earlier." He glanced over the counter.

Bucky laughed, turning around. "Yeah, sure." He replied, walking over. His brown hair hung loose into his face, just a little bit, and he brushed it back, tucking a strand behind his ear.

Steve pulled two mugs out of the cupboard and poured the steaming coffee into them, humming absentmindedly. Back then, coffee was some Maxwell House with some sugar if you could get it. Now, it was such an artisanal thing; with all the different types and ways to drink it– different ratios of milk and foam and making all these interesting patters on the top. It was overwhelming at first, but soon enough he'd gotten his morning coffee down to a science. Steve grabbed the half-and-half from the fridge and the sugar, preparing his cup of joe with practiced precision.

Bucky watched him carefully, eyebrow raising a little bit as Steve got out the other supplies. He took a sip of his juice, brushing back a few locks of hair that had gotten into his face.

Steve watched as the milk clouded into his coffee, happily swirling in its own current. He took a sip, and let out a happy sound at the taste. "It's the little things," Steve smiled.

Bucky nodded, and reached out to take his own cup of coffee. "Mm." he replied softly, taking a sip of his coffee. He looked at Steve for a moment.

Steve smiled at Bucky from the rim of his mug, leaning over the counter and looking through the windows ahead.

Bucky glanced at the windows again after a moment, leaning against the counter a little bit. The ex-assassin was framed by the morning light, the sun glinting on his metal arm.

Steve sighed softly, taking a moment of gratitude towards whatever force brought them together again. The old Bucky would have been talking his ear off now, wandering around the room and going on about some wild story, and Steve would be trying his best to pay attention, just smiling and watching the way his eyes widened at important parts and shine when he'd laugh. But now it was different.

Bucky tucked back a stray strand of hair, sighing softly and taking a sip of coffee. The coffee wasn't hot enough to burn his tongue, thankfully. He glanced at Steve for a moment, then away again, unsure what to say, if anything.

Steve thought back to the sun hitting his balcony that morning where he'd gotten a call from Tony, and what he'd said. "I don't know if this is the right time to say, but Tony and I both think it might be good for you to see a therapist." He blurted out, staring at his coffee as he did.

Bucky tensed a little bit, looking down at the counter and running a finger along it. "No." He replied. "I don't want to see a therapist." His voice was distant, removed and cold now.

"Why not?" Steve questioned, trying to see his angle in this. He knew that HYDRA had hurt him, taken away everything from him. So why couldn't he see that doing this might help? "It's what you need."

"I don't want to. And what do you know about what I need?" Bucky's lips flattened into a thin line, not looking at Steve.

"–That you need help. That's what I know." Steve said, trying to meet Bucky's gaze. So much for an easy morning. "I know that you need to understand what happened to you. And that you deserve some clarity."

"I understand plenty." Bucky replied, taking a sip of coffee. "And I don't need to talk about it with some quack that thinks he knows more about my head than I do."

"It's not about 'knowing' things, Buck, it's about helping you." Steve tried to reason, "They already know about these things and how it hurts people from the inside." He took a breath, "It's a way for you to work through some of that stuff," Since you can't share it with me.

Bucky shook his head, looking down at the coffee cup. "I don't want to talk about it with some random ass stranger. Or with anyone." he set his jaw stubbornly.

"Well, the fact that you don't want to talk about it means that it's something hard to think about." Steve shook his head, remembering every hollow look he'd seen on him, his reflexive hostility, how he couldn't sleep on a mattrass–
"–And you shouldn't change the way you live just to avoid feeling that pain."

"I said I'm not seeing a therapist." Bucky replied in a voice that was almost a growl. "And I mean that." he set his coffee cup down before he could squeeze too hard and shatter it.

Steve's eyebrows slowly pulled together, this is gonna be harder than I thought. "You say that now, but what are you going to do if you keep having nightmares? Or see something that upsets you and it eats you up from the inside. Then what?"

"I'll deal with it myself." Bucky replied firmly. "I don't need to see some quack with their own ideas about how to fix me." he pressed his lips into a thin, fine line.

"You'll deal with it yourself?" Steve questioned, his frown turning sympathetic and his words, drenched from his thoughts swimming in worry, "Because you think that's the only way?"

Bucky sighed. "I've said it already, Steve. I don't feel like talking about it." His voice was still firm, stubborn.

Steve shook his head softly, taking a sip of his coffee which, thankfully, was still a little warm. "Fine." He simply said, hoping that Sam or Natasha might talk some sense into him later.