[ The surprise cuts through him, ripping loose that burst of profanity before he can pull it back — but then again, neither of them had ever really reined themselves in with each other. A childhood running loose on the streets together had eroded boundaries and propriety between them until he'd always just treated her as another one of the boys, the pair of them thick as thieves. His mouth's only become more worthy of being scrubbed out with soap after joining the army.
This was exactly the sort of thing he'd told her not to do. Cross as two sticks, indeed. Bucky paces to the other side of the tent, scrubs at his face with a hand, running it through his hair — which is shorter than usual, cut brutally short to military specification, although his stubble's been growing in rougher than it ever did back stateside.
When Bucky wheels around and paces back and faces her again, he's biting down on that anger, which really just masks his concern. He reaches thoughtlessly outward, his fingertips grazing against Steph's bicep. Muscle. Clear-cut muscle, the kind that she'd never managed to put on even when he was training her in boxing. For self-defense, he'd said at the time. You gotta be able to protect yourself from these lowlifes when I'm not around. ]
So the things they say about Liberty Belle— the program actually worked? It really did... all this to you? Turned you into some kind of, of superwoman?
[ Honestly, at this point in their lives, Bucky swearing doesn't even make her blink; he'd always been pretty good at holding his tongue around her poor sainted Catholic ma, but Stephanie's been stuck to his side like a burr since they were little, and he's always treated her just like anyone else, so it stands to reason she's pretty damn used to how he talks. The only reason she'd startle at this outburst is from the vehemence of it, not the words themselves.
Though, truth be told, she was sort of expecting it.
He all but flings himself away from her, stalking across her tent in a few long strides, and she finds herself standing barefoot where he left her, her hands settling on her hips as she grits her jaw and tries not to snap back at him. Bucky's temper has always been a bit of a spark for her own, the two of them like flint and tinder, always mere seconds from setting each other off. She needs to bite back that impulse right now.
She's had months to get used to the new direction her life has taken. Bucky's only had a few minutes. She can give him some time. ]
It ain't like that, Buck, jeez. [ It's exactly like that, actually. Bucky used to be able to wrap his hand around her arm and have his fingertips all but overlap. Now, she's pretty sure if he tried to grab her biceps like that, it would be a whole 'nother story, and it has nothing to do with the thickness of her blouse. ] It worked, but... [ She waves her hand around her tent, encompassing the stockings and her sequined bustier and the stupid little shield she carries where it lies tossed aside against her chest. ] This has nothing to do with why I did it. I didn't want this.
[ Did she want to be strong? In an abstract sort of way. Did she want to be beautiful? Yeah, even if that wish made her feel shallow and silly. But more than all that, all Stephanie really wanted was to be healthy. She didn't think the pendulum would swing from one extreme all the way to the other, but here she is. Star of her very own vaudeville show, painted on the noses of fighter planes, flashing her knickers to hundreds of strangers every night. ]
[ She's used to waiting him out, and they're both used to navigating each others' moods, so Bucky finally pauses in the middle of the room and looks up to the ceiling of the tent, re-gathering himself. Deep breaths. He was supposed to be her rock, and vice versa; they'd always been there for each other, and even moreso after her mother had died and Steph had become an increasingly common sight at the Barnes residence, Bucky's ma constantly shoving food in front of the girl in the hopes that she'd put some meat on those bones. Not look so sickly-thin all the time.
That's changed now, but not exactly in the way he expected. ]
Then why did you do it?
[ His voice is softer now, calmer, as his gaze drops and he looks at her again. ]
And don't worry, I know it wasn't to be plastered on posters. You're not some glory hound. [ He waves a dismissive hand, as if the idea isn't even worth considering. Even in all their childish dreams of what they wanted to be when they grew up, showbiz hadn't exactly been on the list. While he's mulling it over and trying to come to terms with this impossibility standing in front of him, another thought suddenly occurs to him: ]
[ Just as they tend to set each other off at the drop of a hat, their tempers tend to cool just as quickly, so the sudden change from angry-upset-betrayed to something a lot calmer doesn't surprise her much, though she'd be lying if she said she wasn't relieved to watch his hackles lower.
He looks back at her just in time to watch her cross her arms over her chest, except that she's forgotten yet again that her chest has a lot more to it than it used to, and she can't fold her arms like that any more. Awkwardly untangling them, she tries to fold them under her chest instead, but that just serves to push things up even more than her brassiere does, so she lets her arms drop to her sides to dangle instead, her fingers curling into her palms. ]
I— [ Whatever she'd been about to say gets cut off by him flapping his hand at her dismissively, and while she knows Bucky isn't the type of man who'd think that of her, who'd think that her one goal in life is to be famous and adored, having him say it aloud lifts a burden from her shoulders she wasn't even really aware of carrying.
Hopefully the way her knees wobble with relief is hidden by her trousers, though she's pretty sure there's no hiding the soft noise trapped in her throat, something pitifully close to a whimper that she tries to turn into a sigh. ]
I wanted to help, [ is what she says in the end, instead of saying anything about not being able to stomach accepting the Barnes' charity any longer, about nights spent curled up in her lumpy little bed under a threadbare blanket half-hoping she'd fall asleep and never wake up again, just so she wouldn't have to keep surviving in the useless frail body she'd been saddled with.
She shakes her head at his question, opening her mouth to explain, but finding that the words just won't come. Rolling her lips between her teeth, she bites them hard enough to hurt, trying to keep her chin from wobbling. ] Just me.
[ His gaze accidentally drifts down when her movement shoves her bosom forward in her shirt, and then something just flat-out glitches in the back of his head. Cleavage. His best friend has cleavage, and holy shit, something just doesn't parse about that; she'd never had the sort of figure that men could sneak a peek at, before, but now—
Suddenly self-conscious, Bucky drags his attention back to her face. Again. He exhales. ]
Okay. Shit. I'm glad to see you here, Steph. Even if it's the last place I actually expected to see you show up—
[ This place. This place, with its misery, hollow-eyed soldiers and limping convalescents and mud and the knowledge that, sooner or later, they all get fed back into the machine again, and not all of them will be back a few months from now for the next high-kicking entertainment revue.
There's still something stunned in his demeanour, as he tries to wrap his mind around it. She wanted to help. Of course she did. It had driven her crazy when he'd enlisted, going to the place where she couldn't follow, even as a nurse. Knowing how inevitable her choice would've been, once it was offered, doesn't make him any less shocked by the transformation. ]
Are you... The the asthma, and your heart murmurs, and everything. How do you feel?
[ Peggy had taken her shopping, after the dust settled. There was no way she'd be able to fit in any of her old clothes, and borrowing some kit from the men would only take her so far.
She'd hated it, the shopping. Trying on clothes, letting other women stare at her and make considering noises, being pushed and prodded until she was standing on a little pedestal feeling like some sort of doll or fancy little dog, stiff and uncomfortable swaddled up in ways she wasn't used to.
Of course Bucky wouldn't be used to the things she's wearing either. All their lives, she'd made do with hand-me-downs or dresses she or her ma sewed herself. Plain, simple, sturdy. She'd never worn blouses with wide collars and gathered sleeves. She'd never worn trousers with cuffed hems and pleated waists. She'd certainly never worn dresses with artful darts to help the fabric cling in all the right places, or blazers with pads in the shoulders and shining brass buttons.
She assumes Bucky's staring is because of her clothes. ]
I wasn't gonna let you go off to war without me, [ she teases with a little laugh, sticking her hands in her pockets so they don't have to dangle at her sides any longer. ]
I feel... Bucky, I feel good. It's all gone. I'm... [ She takes a deep breath as if to demonstrate, her ribs expanding smoothly, and lets it out in a slow sigh. No hitching, no burbling, no coughing. Smooth as silk. ] Cured.
[ He can't help it, then: his paranoid suspicion and reservations and worries start to ebb and melt away in the face of Steph's laughter, her clear breath, that satisfied contentment to her voice. The fact that there's no unhealthy weedy rattle in the back of her throat, no thin reedy gasp to each breath as she struggled to get enough oxygen to her frail body. ]
Then it was worth it.
[ Bucky says it like an official conclusion, a firm and unwavering proclamation. Anything would be worth it compared to her being healthy again, in full fighting form, and no longer fretting that the next wave of flu might be the one that finally takes her out. ]
Flashing some knee is probably a pretty easy price, then, compared to kicking all those sicknesses. I just don't like seeing you here, this place is hell, but—
[ But there never was any stopping her once she set her mind on something. And just as quickly, Bucky makes a decision, too: ]
How long are you here? Can we grab a drink, catch up? The Brits have rum rations, I scored a small bottle by beating this one kid at poker— I was saving it for a special occasion, but if this ain't a special occasion, I don't know what is.
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no subject
[ The surprise cuts through him, ripping loose that burst of profanity before he can pull it back — but then again, neither of them had ever really reined themselves in with each other. A childhood running loose on the streets together had eroded boundaries and propriety between them until he'd always just treated her as another one of the boys, the pair of them thick as thieves. His mouth's only become more worthy of being scrubbed out with soap after joining the army.
This was exactly the sort of thing he'd told her not to do. Cross as two sticks, indeed. Bucky paces to the other side of the tent, scrubs at his face with a hand, running it through his hair — which is shorter than usual, cut brutally short to military specification, although his stubble's been growing in rougher than it ever did back stateside.
When Bucky wheels around and paces back and faces her again, he's biting down on that anger, which really just masks his concern. He reaches thoughtlessly outward, his fingertips grazing against Steph's bicep. Muscle. Clear-cut muscle, the kind that she'd never managed to put on even when he was training her in boxing. For self-defense, he'd said at the time. You gotta be able to protect yourself from these lowlifes when I'm not around. ]
So the things they say about Liberty Belle— the program actually worked? It really did... all this to you? Turned you into some kind of, of superwoman?
[ God, those words sound weird. ]
no subject
Though, truth be told, she was sort of expecting it.
He all but flings himself away from her, stalking across her tent in a few long strides, and she finds herself standing barefoot where he left her, her hands settling on her hips as she grits her jaw and tries not to snap back at him. Bucky's temper has always been a bit of a spark for her own, the two of them like flint and tinder, always mere seconds from setting each other off. She needs to bite back that impulse right now.
She's had months to get used to the new direction her life has taken. Bucky's only had a few minutes. She can give him some time. ]
It ain't like that, Buck, jeez. [ It's exactly like that, actually. Bucky used to be able to wrap his hand around her arm and have his fingertips all but overlap. Now, she's pretty sure if he tried to grab her biceps like that, it would be a whole 'nother story, and it has nothing to do with the thickness of her blouse. ] It worked, but... [ She waves her hand around her tent, encompassing the stockings and her sequined bustier and the stupid little shield she carries where it lies tossed aside against her chest. ] This has nothing to do with why I did it. I didn't want this.
[ Did she want to be strong? In an abstract sort of way. Did she want to be beautiful? Yeah, even if that wish made her feel shallow and silly. But more than all that, all Stephanie really wanted was to be healthy. She didn't think the pendulum would swing from one extreme all the way to the other, but here she is. Star of her very own vaudeville show, painted on the noses of fighter planes, flashing her knickers to hundreds of strangers every night. ]
ugh sorry i fell back into being slow af
That's changed now, but not exactly in the way he expected. ]
Then why did you do it?
[ His voice is softer now, calmer, as his gaze drops and he looks at her again. ]
And don't worry, I know it wasn't to be plastered on posters. You're not some glory hound. [ He waves a dismissive hand, as if the idea isn't even worth considering. Even in all their childish dreams of what they wanted to be when they grew up, showbiz hadn't exactly been on the list. While he's mulling it over and trying to come to terms with this impossibility standing in front of him, another thought suddenly occurs to him: ]
Are there any others like you?
you're fine!!
He looks back at her just in time to watch her cross her arms over her chest, except that she's forgotten yet again that her chest has a lot more to it than it used to, and she can't fold her arms like that any more. Awkwardly untangling them, she tries to fold them under her chest instead, but that just serves to push things up even more than her brassiere does, so she lets her arms drop to her sides to dangle instead, her fingers curling into her palms. ]
I— [ Whatever she'd been about to say gets cut off by him flapping his hand at her dismissively, and while she knows Bucky isn't the type of man who'd think that of her, who'd think that her one goal in life is to be famous and adored, having him say it aloud lifts a burden from her shoulders she wasn't even really aware of carrying.
Hopefully the way her knees wobble with relief is hidden by her trousers, though she's pretty sure there's no hiding the soft noise trapped in her throat, something pitifully close to a whimper that she tries to turn into a sigh. ]
I wanted to help, [ is what she says in the end, instead of saying anything about not being able to stomach accepting the Barnes' charity any longer, about nights spent curled up in her lumpy little bed under a threadbare blanket half-hoping she'd fall asleep and never wake up again, just so she wouldn't have to keep surviving in the useless frail body she'd been saddled with.
She shakes her head at his question, opening her mouth to explain, but finding that the words just won't come. Rolling her lips between her teeth, she bites them hard enough to hurt, trying to keep her chin from wobbling. ] Just me.
no subject
Suddenly self-conscious, Bucky drags his attention back to her face. Again. He exhales. ]
Okay. Shit. I'm glad to see you here, Steph. Even if it's the last place I actually expected to see you show up—
[ This place. This place, with its misery, hollow-eyed soldiers and limping convalescents and mud and the knowledge that, sooner or later, they all get fed back into the machine again, and not all of them will be back a few months from now for the next high-kicking entertainment revue.
There's still something stunned in his demeanour, as he tries to wrap his mind around it. She wanted to help. Of course she did. It had driven her crazy when he'd enlisted, going to the place where she couldn't follow, even as a nurse. Knowing how inevitable her choice would've been, once it was offered, doesn't make him any less shocked by the transformation. ]
Are you... The the asthma, and your heart murmurs, and everything. How do you feel?
no subject
She'd hated it, the shopping. Trying on clothes, letting other women stare at her and make considering noises, being pushed and prodded until she was standing on a little pedestal feeling like some sort of doll or fancy little dog, stiff and uncomfortable swaddled up in ways she wasn't used to.
Of course Bucky wouldn't be used to the things she's wearing either. All their lives, she'd made do with hand-me-downs or dresses she or her ma sewed herself. Plain, simple, sturdy. She'd never worn blouses with wide collars and gathered sleeves. She'd never worn trousers with cuffed hems and pleated waists. She'd certainly never worn dresses with artful darts to help the fabric cling in all the right places, or blazers with pads in the shoulders and shining brass buttons.
She assumes Bucky's staring is because of her clothes. ]
I wasn't gonna let you go off to war without me, [ she teases with a little laugh, sticking her hands in her pockets so they don't have to dangle at her sides any longer. ]
I feel... Bucky, I feel good. It's all gone. I'm... [ She takes a deep breath as if to demonstrate, her ribs expanding smoothly, and lets it out in a slow sigh. No hitching, no burbling, no coughing. Smooth as silk. ] Cured.
no subject
Then it was worth it.
[ Bucky says it like an official conclusion, a firm and unwavering proclamation. Anything would be worth it compared to her being healthy again, in full fighting form, and no longer fretting that the next wave of flu might be the one that finally takes her out. ]
Flashing some knee is probably a pretty easy price, then, compared to kicking all those sicknesses. I just don't like seeing you here, this place is hell, but—
[ But there never was any stopping her once she set her mind on something. And just as quickly, Bucky makes a decision, too: ]
How long are you here? Can we grab a drink, catch up? The Brits have rum rations, I scored a small bottle by beating this one kid at poker— I was saving it for a special occasion, but if this ain't a special occasion, I don't know what is.