cicatrize | Duplicity IC Inbox [ un: jbenjamin ]

[ To be fair, Bucky was very conscious about minimizing impact. There's no way that hurt, so he's going to come to the conclusion that Jack's a big ole baby. He lands sprawled just off-center of Jack, with a flesh arm around his waist and his left arm digging into the cushions. He uses it to push himself up and shake his hair out of his face.

It's a nice change-up, honestly, from the short sharp argument he had with Steve about a half an hour ago. He's pleased for a stark contrast. ]

Ah, you'll survive. Trust me, that body can take much worse and keep on kicking.

[ no, it definitely could have been much worse, and jack isn't actually hurt, he's just being a whiny baby, and the grin he wears is enough to give that away. bucky shakes his hair out and he looks like a big freaking lion, jack squishing his head back, trying to avoid getting smacked with strands of fluffy hair, with a quiet snicker leaving him. ]

Give me that, you're a mess. [ 'that' meaning his hair, and jack reaches a hand up to comb the wild mess of his hair back from his face, the other smoothing over the wide plane of bucky's back, so much freaking muscle to him jack can hardly think of it as he duplicate of his own body most days. ]

And yet, I don't feel the urge to test that for proof.

[ He's content to leave the state of his hair in Jack's capable hands, and shortly after it's carded back he allows himself to settle again, slumping down into the cushions around Jack's side, head somewhere just around his shoulder, a foot lower on the couch to offset them. When he finally settles, he shoots Jack a look that clearly states he wants to talk about something.

Actually, he wants to talk about a whole hell of a lot of somethings, but you know. What he says instead is: ]

You watching anything?

[ You wanna put your show on instead?? ]

[ and jack's content to devote the entirety of his attention to the state of bucky's hair, though it only takes a few passes of his fingers to straighten it all out and sweep it back from his face, jack's just found he's terribly fond of this simple repetitive motion. and the way bucky had melted under it before sticks in his mind, so he goes about the same thing he had then, combing fingers through his hair and massaging against his scalp.

as for the tv, it's entirely forgotten, and jack gives a half-assed shrug, trying not to upset bucky where he's laid against his shoulder. ]

Nothing interesting.

[ tell him your thoughts, boo, he's listening. ]

[ James Barnes is a prick who does not deserve to have his hair played with; that being said he's still going to accept it, he just doesn't deserve it. He closes his eyes, settles in under the touch, and exhales a long breath like he's trying to figure out the best way to break into his story.

Stories. Whatever. ]

Took your advice.

[ He decides on ultimately, because he may as well work his way to the most recent turn of events, right? ]

Made a move. On Steve, I mean.

[ Obviously. ]

[ there's plenty of things jack doesn't deserve that he ends up with anyway. if he can have people like bucky and steve carrying for him for no good reason, bucky can have his hair played with.

the long exhale is a troubling thing, usually a sign someone's letting out tension, or working themselves up to something difficult, and jack frowns, dipping forward a couple inches to drop a short kiss at bucky's hairline. don't be sad, buckets.

it's more troubling still when he brings up the advice he'd given on steve, jack's brows knit, certain he'd been right on that front. maybe not. ]

Didn't go well?

[ Thanks for that. They've got a god damn weird relationship all around, Bucky will be the first to admit that. How do you classify casually sleeping with your own genetic makeup in a not-strictly-romantic 'we're seeing other people but sometimes apparently we now spoon on the couch' way? What the hell is the term for that? Whatever it is, he appreciates it especially now, struggling through the events of the last few days, trying to wrap his god damn mind around it.

He gives an aborted little shake of his head, chin brushing Jack's shoulder, rumpling his shirt. ]

Went great at first.

[ He says wryly, cracking an eye open again to get a good look at how the news is going to settle on him. ]

We- he, uh. [ A beat, because he's looking for a classy way to put it. Maybe there isn't one. ] I called his bluff, gave him a hand, and he one-upped me.

[ it's called emotional support from 1/2 people who fuck the pain away by habit and 1/2 people who are born again virgins. yes, it's weird, and it's the only relationship jack really has that's so intimately this, for some very specific reasons, mainly the snotty, teary mess he made of bucky's shirt a while back, but it is what it is, and jack's happy to leave it without a name. just comfortable things done with bucky.

bucky, who is looking up to see jack's brows arched, pleasantly surprised with the news there. ]

One-upped you? [ it doesn't take much of a stretch to realize that means blew him, which paints a really attractive picture that jack's going to try very hard not to think about right now. bucky is telling him Important things, getting hard would be weird. ] I didn't think he had it in him.

[ steve could barely deal with looking at jack's lips post-make out, so from that to sucking bucky off is pretty impressive. it's nice to know he hadn't called it wrong, but that still leaves something missing. ]

Then where does the not-great come in?

[ Yeah, Buck didn't think he had it in him either, but apparently he had it at least in him up to the tonsils. Go god damn figure, and it's an image he'll never be able to get out of his head for as long as he lives. Blessing and a curse. One of those things you tell yourself if I can only have it once it's worth it until you realize you're on the rocks with your best friend and he hasn't spoken to you in days, and then it all sort of comes to a head but only for you because you're the one feeling things that shouldn't be there and— Jesus Christ.

His lips press into an unhappy line. ]

He got weird right after and left. Like... right after. Started avoiding me.

[ Again, for the- what, the millionth time since they've been here? Impressive considering they've been here, what, two months maybe? Generous estimate. ]

Then I apparently turned into the world's biggest asshole and said some shit I shouldn't have said a couple minutes ago, and now it's just...

[ Weird. Fucking weird. Dramatic and weird, and more than he really ever intended to sign up for. ]

[ up to the tonsils, how dare you. thankfully, jack is not telepathic. instead, he's rolling around the news of steve's initial weirdness in his head. if he didn't want bucky, he wouldn've have gone the extra step to get on his knees for him. steve's not the kind of person to give into flights of fancy and foreign urges so easily, is his stubborn abstinence throughout all of their time here so far is telling of anything. he doubt the build up of that alone would cause him to break. perhaps he's worried that's all it was?

or he's just scared shitless the same way Bucky was, but Steve's just so dense he can't tell his best friend jacking him off means he likes him. Hrm. welp, onto the more immediatel issue - ]

Oh. Well, that was stupid of you. [ to turn into the world's biggest asshole. just telling it like it is, albeit, done with a hand at his back smoothing gently up and down the curve of bucky's spine, soothing. there there, you big dumb nerd. ]

I assume that means you haven't apologized yet.

[ Yeah, maybe he's scared shitless, sure, except it seems stupid as hell to Bucky to be afraid when he transparently leapt at the offhanded offer on his announcement, when he actively pursued it later, when he was clearly goddamn into every minute of it. Barnes is taking it to mean he'd been momentarily bicurious, a virgin surrounded by guys into guys, figured he'd give it a shot, and realized shortly after putting a dick in his mouth that it wasn't for him. Ran out because he didn't know how to let Bucky down gently, maybe even pissed off Bucky took advantage of him in the first place.

Or, hell, any number of other possibilities that he can't possibly fathom because Steve won't talk to him and he dodges the subject like a fucking ninja, just like he dodged the conversation about what happened with TJ. Bucky's never been the type to dwell on things without clarifying them, and the longer this goes on the more it eats at him and the shorter his temper gets.

And then nights like tonight happen where things compound, his patience runs short, everything that's been bothering him all at once feels grating, and he says some shit he doesn't mean like he's letting it all out at once.

He sighs. ]

Not exactly. Didn't seem like something I should do in a text, but he practically teleports across the city any time I'm in range now.

[ maybe that too. maybe a million things. god, it must hurt to be bucky right now, feeling like he'd driven away his closest, lifelong friend over emotions he was ready to swallow down and ignore. or, try to. jack tugs him closer in, laying his cheek against the top of bucky's head, and holding him quietly for a moment or so. ]

During Tumenalia, I caught Steve staring at me while I was kissing someone in the lobby, before he ran off like a blushing school girl. He nearly had a panic attack when I followed him. [ and then spent a while staring at his lips and drawing him. what a weird creature Steve Rogers is. ] Between that, and TJ, I know it isn't just either one of us.

[ steve only just met the two of them, and to be that invested that quickly? no, that doesn't happen. it's the foundation that's there, the common denominator. ]

He's probably just scared. Steve doesn't strike me as someone with a terribly wide array of experience.

[ His eyes open again at the news, though he stares at nothing in particular. Some vague place to the left of Jack's TV gets a furrowed-brow and a contemplative look, like scrutinizing the wall will suddenly somehow make things clear and easy.

He chews the inside of his cheeks, and a contemplative moment passes. ]

What actually happened with TJ? He wouldn't tell me.

[ He thinks he knows, assumes he knows, kind of knows based on TJ's ask Steve commentary. Doesn't know how far it went, but something more than a little flirting happened, it had to have.

Maybe it's none of his business, but god damn if he hasn't been dying to know ever since Steve brought it up. ]

[ he can almost feel the gears in bucky's head turning, rolling through all of this and trying to make sense of it. he can definitely feel his jaw shifting as he chews at the inside of his cheek, and what influence of Rose Benjamin is still left in jack has the urge to swat at him for it. stop that, you'll give yourself sores.

thankfully, he refrains. ]

TJ won't say either.

[ and jack had prodded, because he's nosy like that. TJ's an iron box for things of this nature. admirable, but also very frustrating when you're trying to get your pry on. ]

But enough that you know something did.

[ that's the only reason jack knows - because bucky mentioned it when they talked about steve's offer. haggling TJ for it after the fact hadn't won him anything in new information. ]

[ Damn these steadfast bastards and their ability to keep their mouths shut about things inquiring minds need to know. Still, Jack's point stands: enough happened that it Means Something, coupled with Steve's discomfort watching Sort-Of-Bucky's young face make out with some guy, coupled with both offering and actually following through with an encounter of the sexual nature is more than enough to be going off of.

He just doesn't get why Steve would run from it, or at the very least why he'd run immediately afterward rather than... just... talking to him about it. They were right there, he feels like he put himself out there vulnerably enough that if Steve were interested he had prime opportunity to take advantage of that. The only reasons Bucky can see are pessimistic as hell, and he's not looking forward to the conversation that will come of this.

Because one will come, make no mistake. He's not gonna ride this feeling out forever, he just wasn't built for it. Steve could ignore things and shoulder the weight on his own all day long, but Bucky's always been someone to bridge the gap. He knows what he's gotta do.

It's just a matter of doing it. ]

When this all goes to shit and I get blackout drunk to deal with it, you're holding my hair back when I puke, right?

[ Dry, deadpan, pessimistic. At least he's consistent. ]

[ all that's happened, and steve's own incredible sketchiness, is more than damning, but that doesn't stop things being what they are, and steve flouncing off in a fit of who even knows what. jack never thought 100 year old men would be this fucking difficult. but that's just like the elderly, isn't it?

he sighs, ruffling bucky's hair affectionately with an amused hum. bucky barnes, you freaking nerd you. jack's hardly one to complain about deadpan or pessimism, he practically showers in it daily, and he feels for him. which is also weird and new. just like actually cuddling people is. first TJ, now Bucky. Duplicity is doing very strange things to him. Like making him actually capable of real human relationships. weeeeird. ]

Of course, dear. [ he will hold your lovely locks back any time you want, and you bet your ass he'll be there to witness what you look like blackout drunk too. ] Tell him you need to talk. He'll come.

[ jack will freaking make him. ]

Maybe.

[ He mutters, low and into Jack's shirt. He tries to play out how the conversation's going to go in his mind, starting with an apology that Steve'll probably dismiss. Then maybe it'll go into explanations, a few more rounds of circling the issue, a little more Steve implying he's no good for Bucky, or something along those lines. Maybe insisting on Bucky being right even though he was throwing barbs out for no good reason, even though it's more complicated than that...

And a sinking feeling hits him in the gut, a product of trying to see things from Steve's point of view, and his fingers curl absently in Jack's shirt. ]

Maybe he's thinking trying something with me's kind of like stepping on a land mine. Maybe I'm better off letting him do whatever it is he thinks he's doing.

[ Knowing the second you shift your weight the wrong way the whole thing blows. ]

Edited 2018-10-23 15:53 (UTC)

[ this is, possibly, the lowest jack's actually seen bucky, outside of tumenalia, but even then, the concern was aesthetic. this is something deeper, and he frowns, bringing up a hand to smooth over his cheek and tilt his face up to look at him. ]

Bucky.

[ listen here, son. ]

You have been the single most stable one of us here, which is honestly astounding, considering what's horrors are bouncing around inside your head at any given moment. [ this man's mental fortitude is a miracle of science, and probably soul. jack will stand by that for eternity. ] Even the good Captain is losing it more than you are. He has to recognize that, or he's not just stupid, he's braindead.

[ jack sincerely hopes he isn't, because Bucky deserves this happiness. Steve too, probably, but Jack's chief concern is Bucky right now, and he fucking deserves something good. especially since it's just right there, only inches out of reach. but that in mind, he frowns, thumb sweeping across bucky's brow as if he could soothe his mind with touch alone. ]

What kind of help did they give you, when you came back? [ jack asks, assuming Bucky was processed like any other POW, given access to mental health care and all those things the government typically does for their military. hahahahaaaaa. welp. ]

Edited 2018-10-23 16:35 (UTC)

[ The most stable one, Jack says, and he has to stifle a throaty laugh. God, if only he knew, honestly. If he had any idea how big the ball of guilt in the center of his chest felt some days, if he knew about the compartmentalized box Bucky kept in his mind and just didn't touch... if he knew he was only about a dozen words from a snapped neck and not a speck of remorse in his eyes immediately thereafter...

Hell, fuck, even Steve doesn't know and... God, Steve hasn't read the file, he has no idea, and he wonders why Bucky's upset that he doesn't get it. That he wants to insist everything's normal and not his fault, that Bucky's having none of his shit because he has no idea how easily their house of cards could come tumbling down.

A furrowed brow, a beat, and then he glances up at Jack like he's sorting through the question. ]

Who-

[ Who the fuck would give him any help? A moment or two later it occurs to him that typically a soldier's government provides some sort of care when they return stateside, that he and Jack have never actually talked about Bucky's story in detail, and that dawning realization that passes over him is... somewhere between amused and dark. ]

No, I'm. No, I'm considered terrorist. I'm not- I didn't get anything, hell, I can't even go back to my country. I went on the run.

[ The closest thing he got to therapy was a freezer in Wakanda. ]

[ there's a still moment, jack staring wide eyed at him, as if there's something he must be misunderstanding here. ]

You... haven't talked to anyone? At all?

[ from the lost, almost amused look on Bucky's face, that's a definite nope, and jack gapes at him for a beat or so, speechless. ]

Bucky, how are you even — [ forming coherent sentences? a functional person? managing to be upright most days without heavy substance abuse? if jack was impressed with bucky before, he's somewhere in another galaxy from that now.

and with that, comes all the realizations of what must still be lurking around in bucky's head. he isn't terribly sure how long it's been since he was taken from HYDRA, but even years past, even with heavy professional help, some soldiers can't get their grip on life back. he'd expected that bucky still had a lot of lingering baggage, but had been given the assistance and outlets to have it addressed in some kind of healthy way. fuck, even freaking yoga, whatever. anything. instead, bucky's had nothing but, well, basements to scream in, and try to process not just physical torture, but mental rewriting, slavery, complete and absolute violation to the core of his being, all on his own, from inside the dark void of it.

for a long minute or so, jack's carding his fingers back through bucky's hair and watching him, like there's another layer that's been peeled back, furrow deep in his brow, voice coming out a murmur eventually. ]

You're really not alright, are you?

[ The thing about it is Bucky didn't avoid treatment because he was Just So Strong, or because he has any of the toxic masculinity that often keeps people from admitting they need help and then seeking it. No, it's that first and foremost the process of waking up was slow, it took a while to work himself from Asset to person, and for a blurry period of months he was still focusing on the impulse not to return himself to a Hydra relay point let alone something as mundane as seeing a therapist.

After that, when he was more man than machine, the reality of his situation was grim. Everyone and anyone could be Hydra or SHIELD, everyone and anyone could be a threat that knows of the Winter Soldier and is looking to turn him back into a tool strong enough to topple countries. He could trust no one, and he sure as shit couldn't stay in America after fucking Helicarriers and shooting Captain America.

Once he managed to make it to Europe, he had to concentrate on surviving. He had no credentials, no papers, no contacts, nothing but himself scraping by on under-the-table manual labor for work, for money, for barely enough to pay for shitty apartments where the landlord let him pay in cash for the period of weeks he felt comfortable staying there. He moved every four to six at most, constantly roaming, constantly running, constantly hiding, searching, fretting.

No money for therapy, no paperwork for therapy, no stability for therapy. There was no choice, it was a matter of necessity and survival.

So he dealt with it himself, he made a lot of mistakes in the beginning, he damaged a lot of property, he screamed himself hoarse, he googled, and he compartmentalized because the biggest crutch he ever used is one placed into him by HYDRA themselves: the asset does not feel. Use the tools at your disposal, right? So now it's all in a neat package in his mind that he's reinforced with steel and learned to dodge around, with a few additional semi-functional coping mechanisms.

Is that the same thing as fixing it? Fuck. No. Sometimes it eats at him so hard he can barely contain it, sometimes the desire to just talk about it clawed at his throat and pricked at his eyes. Sometimes he feels such genuine fear that he can barely breathe, it chokes his chest and fogs his mind and he has to keep on pushing through because otherwise he'll never get out of bed or he'll get out of bed and just start running again and never stop— ]

No. I'm really not.

[ He admits hoarsely after a long and tense moment, guilty and (for the first time since he's met Jack) truly, utterly lost. ]

So like I said. Landmine.

[ Because when he's from, where he's from, Steve already knows about this. He should, at least, have Steve to talk to about the things he's done. But Steve doesn't know, Steve refuses to listen, won't read the file, won't let Bucky talk about it without flying off the handle about how he doesn't need to know and steadfastly assuring Bucky it wasn't his fault while at the same time having no fucking clue about it.

And really, what Barnes needs is a god damn therapist. Maybe he should have posted to the network seeking one of those rather than seeking sexual partners. Hindsight. ]

[ that tint of strain in Bucky's voice, something Jack's never heard come from him, is all that's needed for his heart to break over this man. His arm tightens around Bucky's back instinctively, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt.

This is only the barest, tiniest crack in the fortress walls that Bucky's held up to keep it all contained within himself, and Jack wonders what horrors will come when the dam finially breaks. And it will. It has to. Landmine, yeah, he gets that now. Doesn't think it should stop him from having the happiness and deeper connection he's seeking, but he understands the concern. However, Jack's concern in this is now entirely shifted.

Shifting, he turns so Bucky's sandwiched between the back of the couch and Jack's chest, his lips dipping to kiss the top of his head and linger there, holding tight to him for a time, quiet. If family wasn't such a soured concept in Jack's mind, he would readily call this man family. With as much as he's gone out of his way for him, and as much that's been shared between them, there's no question to it. Another kiss, to his temple now, and Jack takes in a breath, speaking up again. ]

I know Duplicity isn't the ideal environment for intensive therapy, but it is a place where you aren't considered a terrorist. [ Jack murmurs into Bucky's hair, unwilling to move far from him. ] I can help you look for one.

[ if he isn't up for it, if it's too frustrating for him. Dealing with doctors has never been anything jack was a fan of, and considering he is one of those Too Strong, toxic masculinity types, therapy isn't anything he's touched yet himself. ]

As for Steve, even if you were an active volcano, I doubt he could stomach abandoning you. [ which, he realizes 'abandon' isn't so much the question here. just make awkward in perhaps an irreperable way, or miss the chance to be more, any of those things. Jack doubts itll come to that either, but for once, he's keeping his opinions on other people's love lives to himself. ]

[ He allows himself to be sandwiched, pressed in between two soft spaces like between the sofa and Jack he can block out everything that's going on in the world. His eyes close, his right arm settles around Jack's waist loosely, and he breathes in and out the smell of fabric softener. Regular, rhythmic, constant breathing. Deliberate, mindful inhales and exhales to keep his cardiovascular system under control, to stave off anything that might be threatening to well up in him. He's gotten god damn good at meditating by this point, done his rounds through a lot of countries that endorse it more than therapy itself. It has its uses.

He can keep himself under control. Unlike Jack, unlike TJ, he's beyond letting himself break down and cry into someone's chest — not because he's above it, but because if things were to ever get to that point he's more than capable of leveling anyone in his path. That, and he's already done it a few times.

So he pushes it down, schools it back, shuts it away again in a box so dense it feels like a physical weight between his lungs. An ache, a sucking pain like a black hole.

If his fingers grip at the back of Jack's shirt a little too hard, well, he's not perfect. They ease up after a minute. ]

Hadn't thought of it.

[ He admits honestly, voice carefully blank; with everything going on, dealing with his mental health sort of seemed like it wasn't high on the list of priorities. Steve came first, and now Jack beneath him, then TJ, and the careful balancing act of keeping them all happy, safe, and unliberated (cough Steve). It's only been a few weeks, though, so maybe now's the perfect time.

He licks his lips, exhales long and slow through his nose. ]

Think that's probably a good idea... provided the therapy here isn't like the god damn movies where everything's painted into dominant versus submissive rather than actually focusing on the problems you're trying to fix.

[ it's easy to tell bucky's practiced in this, far more than jack ever managed in the 22 years he spent fumbling around by himself, trying to force his mind into some frail excuse of composure. near unconsciously, the hand stroking over bucky's back, and the other massaging at the base of his skull fall into the same rhythm of his breathing for another quiet pause, and the way bucky's hand tightens in his shirt doesn't escape him. jack nuzzles his nose against his hair, but otherwise, keeps up the same steady rhythm with everything else.

this isn't something he'd have thought he'd be doing a month or so back - snuggling a grown man and discussing the merits of therapy for POWs suffering PTSD, as if he'd ever followed that advice himself. but he knows it's the correct route taken for these things, and for someone with the kind of trauma bucky's carrying with him, probably the only route that'll offer real success.

but this feels worth it in a way nothing in shiloh ever really did, and bucky, steve, tj, wade and murphy all feel real to him in a way people back home never were. part of that is perhaps, in bucky, the honesty of his pain, and the reality of what it causes. he finds he cares more about locating help for bucky now than he'd felt fulfillment or satisfaction in any of the plots and schemes he crafted at home, against david or silas.

he's trying to run through things he'd seen advertisements for within the city, considers maybe he should visit some offices and speak to the doctors to get a judge on how they practice. there's also the cast of those that aren't native, though he doesn't remember any specifically mentioning therapy. ]

If it is, there is still about a hundred or more LIERs we could pick through. See if anyone has the experience, without also being a serial killer. [ some of the other LIERs are weird, okay? jack says, being a legitimate murderer. really, the idea would be finding someone specialized with PTSD, because Bucky's case won't be easy for even experts, Jack's guessing. he hates that they might have to settle, but at least some care is better than none. ]

How long has it been, since you escaped?

[ With his eyes closed and the steady beating of Jack's heart, the tension flows away slowly. He doesn't know what causes the desire, but he follows it anyway — the searching for skin, the want to palm Jack's back directly rather than feel it through his shirt, and so his right hand dips, finds the hem, slides up Jack's spine flat, calloused, slow and gentle until it falls to rest somewhere between his shoulder blades with fingertips spread in every direction.

It's quiet here, with the weight of the couch at his back, with Jack nosing at his hairline, with the smell of laundry, quiet conversation over his ear. Dimmer here with the couch backing blocking out direct light, a little blue from the television. Background noise. Tangled legs. Skin beneath his hand.

Calm.

Considering he's murdered so many people, he thinks maybe taking serial killers out of his list of potential therapists isn't necessarily a requirement. After all, it's not like they'll be able to kill him. That's not cockiness, it's just a fact. He's not afraid.

He'll leave that point to rest, though, and instead focus on the question at hand. ]

Two years, I think.

[ A low and quiet drawl, lacking inflection, no emotions clouding it. ]

The first... few months I couldn't think, couldn't really... keep track of time.

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