6885/Ultimutt Road Trip

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Ultimutt Road Trip
Date of Scene: 09 July 2021
Location: Not the NJ Turnpike
Synopsis: Sam and Bucky catch up on their regularly scheduled capital-t Talks while on the way to pick up the one and only Best Girl Lili Barnes and bring her back home. Also, they have cheesesteaks!
Cast of Characters: Sam Wilson, James Barnes




Sam Wilson has posed:
    In the grand scheme of things, calling the drive from New York to Delaware a roadtrip is kind of disingenuous. It's three hours, maybe four if you want to avoid the New Jersey Turnpike (everyone should want to avoid the New Jersey Turnpike) with whatever extra time needed to stop in Philly for a cheesesteak.

    Which Sam insists is a necessary component of the drive. You don't drive through Philadelphia and NOT stop for a cheesesteak, man!

    And maybe that's the reason why he's coming along for the trip. Good food is motivation enough, and driving down I-95 (seriously, fuck the New Jersey Turnpike) means all they have to do is take one exit and boom, cheesesteak, served up through a streetside window so that they can get in and get out before anyone recognizes them.

    Also maybe it's y'know, because they're driving his car, pulled out from storage at the mansion.

    He's not willing to do the whole drive himself though, this time around. None of Bucky's insides are threatening to be outsides to the best of Sam's knowledge, and neither of them are sporting any terrible injuries. So they're going to split the drive 50-50.

James Barnes has posed:
    It's not like Bucky wouldn't prefer to drive anyway. Can't trust a man that can fly his ownself around in a suit and can't pilot a damned jet to ... drive a car, right?

    So, when it was his turn behind the wheel, he'd stretch it out as long as possible. It's probably not a surprise that he's an expert at eating and driving at the same time; it's the combination of super solider reflex and spending a goodly amount of time on the run or on the road, running away from his masters or running to a mission ordered by them.

    He's been mostly quiet, but not in a bad way really, it's not a heavy sort of silence on his end. He's just not much for small talk, never has been. Heavy talk though, when he finally gets around to it, well he just jumps in head first doesn't he?

    "So... Zemo."

    He'll get to Opal and Other Stuff that might be important later, but he figures that's the biggest elephant taking up space in the vehicle right now.

    Elvis Presley croons about doing Rockin' in a Jailhouse on the oldies station he's chosen. Coincidence or...

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Given that they didn't end up in a ditch at any point over the 18 hours that mostly just Sam drove them down to Louisiana, he'd probably think that Bucky's making a Big Damn Deal over nothing if he knew that's why Bucky's taken the wheel.

    But Sam's also not going to insist if Bucky wants to drive. He's absolutely fine with chilling in the passenger seat, the paper wrap for his cheesesteak spread across his lap.

    His sunglasses are pushed up onto the top of his head as he gives this sandwich the attention it deserves.

    "Man, really? While I'm eating?"

    Sam sighs and sets his cheesesteak back down, wipes his hands clean on a napkin, and tips his head back against the headrest. "You know, I'd appreciate it if you'd fill me in on your plans before you go through with them, especially if they're gonna affect my standing with the Avengers... or a foreign government," he says. If he never gets to go back to Germany and spend an afternoon in a beer garden, Sam's really going to be disappointed.

    He reaches for one of those fancy boxed waters that he'd packed for the trip, apparently having taken to them after their frequent visits to his friend's Harlem apartment. Save the turtles, or whatever. "You got like two dozen languages rattling around in your brain, I'm sure you could've figured out some way of communicating with me."

James Barnes has posed:
    "...and you would have said 'no, nope, no way'..." Bucky points out while changing lanes, darting between the slow son of a bitch that was in front of them and the slow son of a bitch that's now behind them with little room to spare. "Because that's exactly what you said when I told you I just wanted to *talk* to the man. I didn't have time for the song and dance, Sam. Steve might not have time for the song and dance. The serum he's dosed with? It's not the same as what they got me with. We have no idea what this is going to start doing to him."

    He dips back into the fast lane.

    "Opal's working on that, btw."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "That was my gut reaction to you dropping Zemo's name without fanfare," Sam points out. "Which, after the shit he pulled with you and Steve? Feels pretty valid to me."

    He sockets his tongue in his cheek, and turns his head away to look out the window. For a long while he's silent, though it's not tense, not in the way it's been between them in the past. Despite Sam's complaint about communicating, look at that. They actually are.

    Eventually, he sighs. "I would've gone along with it," he says, and his shoulders drop as he admits it. Sam's got his principles, his parents brought him up right, so it's hard for Sam to acknowledge the obvious asterisk on his moral code. It's not even the first time he's bent his own rules for Captain America, but it's definitely the most drastic instance of it. "It's Steve."

    Between the two of them, that's probably the easiest way to explain it.

James Barnes has posed:
    "Thing is though, Sam, he did that shit to *me* and Steve, right? So, if I'm droppin' his name without fanfare, then it must mean that shit's important and... that means, it's something you should have trusted me on."

    Bucky's driving is REALLY terrifying, for someone that doesn't know that he's got the reflexes of an Olympic Athlete, in his prime, on steroids.

    "You just gotta... I mean, you gotta learn to... I dunno, man, sometimes I just still feel like you don't trust me. That makes it easier for me to beg forgiveness than ask permission."

    His hands both relax, fingers stretching, and then close again around the steering wheel. His flesh and bone hand white knuckles a little. Still a sore spot with him, the trust thing. "Maybe instead of jumping to 'nope', you might wanna ask... why and what's the plan?"

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "That would count for more if I hadn't heard you say shit like 'I'm not sure I'm worth all this' to me." Sam has those words stamped onto his brain as the title for the compendium of trauma he's come to understand (in recent days to a particularly unnerving degree thanks to their latest raid on a HYDRA base) Bucky has gone through. "But I have," he says. "So, I trust you to have my back in the field, and to make the right decision if you're ever in a bad situation, but I know you don't value your self-worth enough to even consider the pain and suffering you're going to put yourself through when something goes south."

    Sam bundles up the empty wrapper of his sandwich and then takes a long drink of water, partially as an excuse to get his thoughts together on this. And he's had a lot of thoughts. It takes a minute.

    As he screws the cap back on his drink, Sam glances out the windshield. If having no outward reaction at all to Bucky's speed-demon ways isn't some obvious sign of Sam's trust, who knows what is.

    Sure, maybe it has a little bit to do with Sam's own willingness to throw himself into danger. The man straps what is basically a jet engine to his back and goes out fighting. Still, the point stands.

    He sighs. "So someone's gotta consider it, and I don't have any issue with it being me, because you're my friend. You know that, right?" The pause he gives there is significant. "If this situation was reversed and it was me and Steve that had to break Zemo out of prison because you got dosed, I would've done it then too."

James Barnes has posed:
    'It's what I was made for,' is another potential title for that compendium.

    Bucky forces himself to relax his hands before that left one snaps the steering wheel in two. "It's not that ... I don't give it any thought, it's just that..." He was obviously going somewhere kind of deep with that, but he shuts it down and just lets it die there.

    One hand on the wheel, he plucks his buzzing cell phone from his pocket. It's a move that involves some ass lifting off the seat and a considerable amount of him seeming to not quite have his attention on the road. Is that a semi up there?! Yes it is! OH GOD.

    ...he dips into the other lane to pass it even as he's reading the text message he just got. "It's Opal, she's still working on it, but she's closer." He tosses the phone into the a little cubby somewhere near the console.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Sam doesn't jump in to fill the silence like he would if they were bickering, or just holding a normal conversation. Because Bucky's garbage at small talk, sure, but Sam's great at it. Plus he has an excellent repetoire of stories from back home in Delacroix to tell.

    Right now, though, he lets Bucky work his way through his own thoughts. And if he never finishes that sentence, so be it. Sam's fine with leaving it there.

    "Besides," he's saying as he raises his eyebrows at the semi driver, who looks very perturbed as they pass him. "Zemo creeps me the hell out. My first reaction to him is always going to be like that, man makes my skin crawl."

    He glances down at Bucky's phone, and then tucks his chin against his fist. "Sooner we can finish this and get rid of him, the better."

James Barnes has posed:
    "I dunno, he's just really a sad, pathetic little shit that likes purple," Bucky counters. Really, the only thing about Zemo that creeps him out is the fact that the man knows his trigger words. "His obsession with me is... I hope he gets that I don't do men."

    He falls silent after that disturbing mental image and chews on the inside of his cheek until he can actually taste the metallic flavor of his blood in his mouth. "Sometimes I just feel like I deserve it, Sam," is what he finally breaks the silence with. "... the pain and suffering. It's not that I don't ever think about it, it's just that I don't care if it happens because, I got it comin' to me, y'know?"

    He ends up driving on the shoulder to dart around a little Honda Fit.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "Man's a zealot. I get that he's suffered but he's taken his beliefs to such an extreme that he doesn't care who gets hurt in the process of following them through." And Sam isn't down for that. His empathy has its limits, and judging by the way Sam behaves around Zemo, the Baron is gone way beyond them.

    He side-eyes Bucky for a long moment, internally warring with his response. Part of him wants to be concerned, because Sam stands by his whole 'Zemo creeps him out' thing, but he's also pretty sure that what Zemo wants to do to Bucky... isn't that. "I don't think he's into you like that. He's just European," is what Sam finally decides on saying.

    Someone honks at them, and Sam makes a face at the window and shrugs. Maybe you shouldn't be in the fast lane if you're only going to be driving the speed limit, asshole!

    Sam flattens his left hand on his thigh. "I know you do," he says, subdued. "Much as I want to argue with you about it, would anything I say convince you that it's not true?" He lets out a gusty exhale. "I don't think it will. Still sucks watching you go through it, though."

James Barnes has posed:
    "He doesn't want me dead either." Or, well, Bucky would have been many times over. "Bottom line is, I'm not afraid of Zemo... not just Zemo. He'd be a fly on the windshield of my life if ... HYDRA's shit was gone from my brain."

    Silence again, more cheek chewing, a little finger tapping on the steering wheel and a whole lot of brow creasing before, "I know it does and no, it probably wouldn't." He sucks in a breath, holds it, lets it out, sucks in another and, "Sam, I can't... just separate it all the way you guys can. It doesn't matter how much HYDRA had control, *I* still did it all. It's in my head, they're my memories, I can feel them, hear them, smell them... see the faces of all those people. I can't just pull that away and leave the rest behind."

    Look there, a fly just splattered on the windshield at about ninety miles per hour. Zemo.

    "... that's why I call Opal sometimes, because she... well, she sees *all* of me and doesn't try to take the Winter Soldier completely out of the equation. That can never happen, he's me... I'm him. We're not the same, but we're not separate things either."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    That's a lot to stew on, and so Sam sits there with it for a while. He doesn't have the outward tells that he's wrestling with his thoughts in the way Bucky has, but he is. Wrestling with them.

    Even with his training, getting his head around all of Bucky's problems is... it's just a lot.

    "I don't think I'll ever really be able to understand it," Sam says, and it sounds like it's a struggle for him to admit that, like the words are being forcibly dragged out of him. But that's what he's coming to understand, even if it's taken him a while to realize it. "What you went through, and how it sits with you now."

    He digs his thumb into the spot between his eyebrows. "If what you need is to acknowledge it as a part of you rather than move on from it, then..." Big inhale. Not the practiced breathing Sam goes through when he's trying to deal with things, just... him facing something head on, here. Over-oxygenating his bloodstream in preparation before rushing off into battle.

    The analogy feels pretty apt, here.

    Sam nods. "Then okay. I'll support you on that. But only if you're doing it to make amends, not to make yourself a martyr. Can we agree on that much?"

James Barnes has posed:
    Bucky's pale blues go distant, away, into that thousand yard stare. Does he even still see the road? That might be a concern for a bit, until he swerves at the last moment to keep from hitting a piece of shed tire tread from a semi.

    "I don't think anyone ever will, Sam." Understand it. Man, but that's a sad thought and a lonely existence, to feel like no one will ever really and truly *get it*.

    Seriously though, how could anyone be expected to? Every person's experiences are unique to the next, but Bucky's? His are so far removed from anything that even remotely resembles normal that he might as well be from an alien planet. ... one where decades of torture and brainwashing was the norm.

    "Only if you let me go through the door first," he counter offers.

    ... right before. "The sisters? They're older than me," time to change the subject quick like. "How that's possible is theirs to tell, but they know a lot of shit about a lot of... shit. What they don't know, they know how to find out. And we can trust them. Jade more because Opal and Ruby would skin her if she fucked me over than anything else, but we can trust them. Opal'll figure this it out, she'll fix this, Steve'll be okay." He just has to believe that's the case, it is isn't it?

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "No one can really understand another person like that. Hell, most people don't really even understand themselves, which is a whole other topic that I won't even get started on." Sounds like Sam has some capital-o Opinions on that, though. "We all hold parts of ourselves back. So yeah, maybe you'll never get there one hundred percent with a single person, but you have people in your life who care enough to try. If you give them a chance, you could get somewhere close."

    Of course, given that Sam has made it clear he's aware of Bucky's self-esteem issues, maybe just that is asking too much.

    Bucky bringing up the whole door thing startles a laugh out of Sam. "Deal," he says, and then that settles it, at least for him, for now.

    He reaches up and pulls his sunglasses down, back into place, and then he settles back in his seat. The sudden and abrupt topic change is one Sam can appreciate, or at least respect. "Look, if you trust them, then I'll follow your lead. But it's just the three of them, right? There's only so much I can handle and their whole thing... it's a lot." Sam shakes his head. It's a whole lot.

James Barnes has posed:
    "As far as I know, yeah, only the three," Bucky... kinda promises, because even he's not really sure.

    The rest of it? Well, Buck needs to chew on all of that for a little while. There's only so much 'self healing' or whatever that he can handle at one time and today? There's been a lot of it.

    He reaches down to turn up the radio. Frank Sinatra pelts out 'My Way'.

    The rest of the trip is made pretty much in silence and Bucky gets them there in record time, did anyone doubt that?

    ...and one happy little pup is there to greet them on their arrival. Sam gets his share of kisses and tail wags, make no mistake, but it's Bucky - her *person* - that nearly gets bowled over by the shepherd when she sees him. It makes his heart smile a little bit and some of the lines and worry just melt away from his face.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Sam doesn't have a jealous bone in his body, so he is perfectly content for Lili to get her fill of her person before she's willing to even glance his way, and then Sam gets down into a crouch so he can ruffle her ears and find the spot on her side that makes her hind leg thump against the ground.

    Dogs are the best, man.

    He spends the entire drive back to NYC trying to sneak Lili treats without Bucky noticing, because Sam's the type of uncle who spoils the kids. And yes, that means Lili is officially his niece now, deal with it Buck.