[ She steps right out into the cold clammy mud and flings herself unthinking into his arms, where Bucky catches her with a small oof and a breath against the top of her head, his arms instinctively going around her and lifting her off that freezing ground— and the most disorienting thing, really, is how inexplicably taller Steph is. How much less distance there is for him to pick her up and spin her into a crushing hug. Her newfound height brings her closer to his face, buried in the crook of his neck rather than pressed low against his chest where she used to be, and so the center of balance is all off, unexpectedly different: her body is sturdy muscle beneath his hands rather than a mere slip of a thing, the skinny little mutt she'd been.
It looks like her, sounds like her, her blonde hair even smells like her, and yet. ]
And it's really you. What the hell. I thought you were smaller?
[ Bucky doesn't let go of her yet, where her arms are still wrapped around his neck and swept up in his embrace; he just frog-walks them both into the tent, and only then sets her back down once they're safely inside. He leans back and peers down as if she's somehow hiding invisible six-inch heels, but instead it's just her bare, muddy feet wiggling on the floor of the tent. Thankfully, the skirt and the bustier have been swapped out, so he's able to politely snap his gaze back to her face, his glacier-blue eyes poring over her features, mapping it to what he remembers of the friend he left behind in New York.
There's a little bit of kohl still smeared at the corner of Steph's eyes. His hand reaches up, absentmindedly wipes that small clump of it away— and then he realises how close they're standing and he takes a genteel step away, clears his throat. Bashful in a way he never had been, before. Hearing half a fieldful of men openly salivating over his best friend's calves had been a surreal experience. ]
I thought Liberty Belle was just a publicity thing. But you're really...
[ Healthy? Strong? Superpowered? He's not sure what word to fill in that blank. Marveling, he finally says: ]
You lifted that bench of girls like it was nothing.
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It looks like her, sounds like her, her blonde hair even smells like her, and yet. ]
And it's really you. What the hell. I thought you were smaller?
[ Bucky doesn't let go of her yet, where her arms are still wrapped around his neck and swept up in his embrace; he just frog-walks them both into the tent, and only then sets her back down once they're safely inside. He leans back and peers down as if she's somehow hiding invisible six-inch heels, but instead it's just her bare, muddy feet wiggling on the floor of the tent. Thankfully, the skirt and the bustier have been swapped out, so he's able to politely snap his gaze back to her face, his glacier-blue eyes poring over her features, mapping it to what he remembers of the friend he left behind in New York.
There's a little bit of kohl still smeared at the corner of Steph's eyes. His hand reaches up, absentmindedly wipes that small clump of it away— and then he realises how close they're standing and he takes a genteel step away, clears his throat. Bashful in a way he never had been, before. Hearing half a fieldful of men openly salivating over his best friend's calves had been a surreal experience. ]
I thought Liberty Belle was just a publicity thing. But you're really...
[ Healthy? Strong? Superpowered? He's not sure what word to fill in that blank. Marveling, he finally says: ]
You lifted that bench of girls like it was nothing.