6917/Bacon Cheeseburger and a Quinoa Salad

Bacon Cheeseburger and a Quinoa Salad
Date of Scene:	13 July 2021
Location:	Steve Rogers' Apartment
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	James Barnes, Sam Wilson

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James Barnes has posed:
    It was probably at least a little after noon when Bucky finally came straggling back to the apartment the day after nearly being gutted by Logan. But, he'd sent a text around four in the morning to let his friend know that he was okay and would be staying at the Corral with Opal.

    About half an hour of Sam checking wound dressings and making sure everything was still holding together - Bucky even ASKED him to do it! - and he hollered through the bathroom door while Sam was showering. "Going out to grab food!" Before he left, he dropped a sketch on the coffee table.

     - Lili and Sam. Sam is trying to retrieve a ball from the shepherd's mouth. There's a note scrawled on the back. Sam, I know you're going through it because of me and I'm sorry I'm too fucked up to be the friend you deserve, but at least there's the best girl ever to pick up my slack, yeah? - Buck -

    He leashed up Lili and the two of them headed out. He's back now, maybe fourty-five later, with two bags. One's tossed on the coffee table, the other one he keeps as he settles down on the sofa.

    From his, he pulls the biggest, greasiest, messiest bacon cheeseburger ever known to man. Sam's? Well there's a quinoa salad. Bucky's not even sure what the fuck that is other than it looks like someone ate it once already, no thanks!

    Lili, obviously, is more interested in what dad has than that... already ate green stuff in Sam's bag.

    "Opal says Nagel is in Delaware," of all the damned places! "... we should recon the place before we hit it," around a mouthful of burger.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Sam goes on his first run in--a month, at least?--that morning. It's reached the point where it's basically medically necessary if he doesn't want to have a heart attack from his blood pressure spiking high for as many days as it has been. With his training, Sam's been noticing the signs.

    And he brings Lili with him. German Shepherds are high energy breeds and she's probably antsy without her Human around.

    They go all the way to Prospect Park while the sun is still barely peeking above the horizon, and for a long time Sam just sits at a picnic table, earbuds in and music streaming from his phone as Lili makes friends at the Dog Beach. He's doing the whole shades-and-ballcap thing that everyone riffs on Captain America for thinking it actually makes him anonymous, but for the Falcon? Yeah, it kind of works.

    He puts Lili back on her leash after a long while and then they go watch a few of the informal games happening at the ballfields in Long Meadow before heading back to Steve's apartment.

    The timing works out such that he's just put out some fresh water and a snack for Lili when Bucky shows up, and the request for a wound check is startling enough that Sam puts off taking a shower to do so, even if his shirt is sticking to him uncomfortably.

    There's no sketch on the table when Bucky gets back, and the pinched look to Sam's expression that even his run hadn't managed to touch has lessened somewhat.

    "Does the serum just break down excess cholesterol or something?" Sam asks from his spot on the couch, takeout container open and balanced in his lap. He points his fork at Bucky.

    He gets a few mouthfuls of food into his cramping stomach before he's willing to follow up on the Nagel thing. "If we make a quick stop at the Playground, I can have Redwing up and running for that."

James Barnes has posed:
    Bucky reaches up to wipe a little of the grease off his chin... on the back of his hand. Boy was born in a damned barn, he really was. "I dunno man, all that healthy crap you eat, it looks like it's either meant for a rabbit or someone ate it once already."

    He tenses ever so slightly at the mention of the Playground. "Yeah, well... I got word that they're all out." He says that way too casually. Something's amiss there for sure! Likely some fucked up guilty shit, knowing Bucky.

    "Listen, I know last night was messed up, but you gotta let go of anything you're holdin' on Jimmy. I killed his fuckin' wife, man."

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "Just because it's not going to clog my arteries doesn't mean it tastes bad. I know how to cook." Sam's definitely been co-opting the surprisingly large kitchen in Steve's apartment since they've been camped out here, and now he has a modest stack of food containers on one shelf in the fridge. "Besides, quinoa is basically like pasta or tofu, you dump whatever you like into it and it's gonna taste like that."

    He balls up an unused napkin and flicks it over Bucky's way.

    And then he pokes through his salad, narrow-eyed at some leafy green that he extracts with the tines of his fork, but after he tastes it, it turns out to be parsley or some other herb and thankfully not kale. "Out where?" Sam asks, distracted, and then he blinks hard once before his head snaps up. "Out of the Framework? Wait, what? When did this happen?"

    Is he really this out of the loop? Well, guess they're going to the Playground for more than just Redwing maintenance.

    Sam is going to need time to process this, which makes him feel a little bit like a broken record, because then he says, "I know. I'll get over it, I just need some time..." to process "...to deal with having to wash my best friend's blood off my hands in the bathroom of a cafe. Can't promise I'll ever be buddies with him, but I'll take your lead on whether or not I should be plotting his demise or anything."

James Barnes has posed:
    "Yeah, out of the Framework." Bucky snags the napkin out of the air even when it falls short, because balled up or not... those things don't sail. "...I went to see her before I came here." Peggy obviously, but he changes the subject sort of... "They're having some sort of party tonight."

    Enough of that, there's definitely something there he's not ready to deal with.

    "Jimmy served with me in the 107th, me and Steve, Sam. He's a good guy. He just didn't know it was me. All he saw was the man that butchered his wife." He has to force himself to swallow the next bite he takes and then sets the burger, on its wrapper, down on the table. It's only about half gone, but he's finished. Maybe all this should have waited until after he'd managed to eat an entire meal.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Sam has to sit there and metaphorically chew on that as he literally chews on his quinoa. Normally he'd be all for a party, but right now even Sam feels a little bit too frayed at the edges to really contemplate that level of social interaction.

    So he can't imagine how Bucky's feeling about it.

    He swallows, tucks his fork into the box, and closes it. It joins Bucky's half-eaten cheeseburger on the table, but at least Sam will put his leftovers in the fridge and eat them later. You don't have to worry about reheating a salad.

    "Sure, okay, that's fine. Like I said, I'll get over it." The gesture he makes is vague, to communicate the lack of attached timeline to his supposed getting-over-it. "But you almost died. For a second I couldn't even find a pulse, so I can't just." His teeth grit together and he forces himself to stop that, immediately, because Sam does not need to add dental problems on top of all the other assorted stress-related medical issues he feels like he's at risk of developing. "You know. Pretend it didn't happen."

James Barnes has posed:
    "You don't gotta go." Even though he feels a little obligated to, he's giving Sam an out.

    "Just try to cut him some slack," Bucky says and then lets it drop. Dude's the one that got stabbed and *he* can pretend it didn't happen, SAM!

    His leg bounces up and down, fingers tap-tapping on his knee. When he'd walked through the door earlier, he actually looked happy, it was a nice look on him while it lasted.

    "She... said they didn't even know out here was here while they were in there. She didn't even want to leave while she was in there." It's irrational, it's not Peggy's fault, but that... it hurts a little.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    The out doesn't even get acknowledged. Like there's any doubt Sam would go.

    "I said it was fine!" Sam's voice goes up in volume on the last one a little bit, and it's clearly not something he meant to do because immediately he sits back, wincing faintly before he brings a hand up to press against his face. His finger and thumb dig hard enough over his eyelids that he sees starbursts, and then he takes a couple of moments just to breathe.

    In-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four, out-two-three-four, hold-two-three four.

    Why does it seem like the more he uses it the less it works?

    His hand drops. "I'm not going to give him any trouble about it," he says, finally, and then Sam's done talking about it too.

    He takes in the new information about the Framework with remarkable calm that he's not actually feeling. It's just he's damn good at pretending otherwise. "What, like some kind of virtual reality?"

James Barnes has posed:
    "Yeah, I guess." Not that Bucky really has much of a clue what a 'virtual reality' is. He can guess just on the name, but there's absolutely no full understanding there.

    He leans forward, elbows on his knees and head hanging down. That hair's back, he can hide again. "I feel sick," he admits quietly, but it's not 'physical'. "My head's spinnin' and my stomach's floppin' and... I feel like I wanna explode, or implode." Look there, he's using his *words* to try and communicate that he's Not Okay with this and how it's actually making him feel.

    Sam's Cyborg is growing up!

Sam Wilson has posed:
    It's not as if Sam has much of an understanding of it himself. His tech knowledge is hands on and generally restricted to Redwing and his suit, beyond the baseline level of understanding that someone his age would have given the casual integration of technology into everyday life.

    Which is to say, he can spam Bucky's phone with memes and pictures of cute animals, but it's not like he could fix his phone if it broke or anything.

    "I'm sorry," he says, not in a way that's trying to profess blame for Bucky's issues, just acknowledging that they're there and unpleasant. "Have you been feeling that way for a while, or did it just start recently?"

    That's all Sam-the-counselor talking, there, because this is something in his wheelhouse, and it's easier than addressing any of his own lingering issues regarding the Framework and the whole clusterfuck that is SHIELD right now, thanks to HYDRA.

    Fuck HYDRA, by the way.

James Barnes has posed:
    He still doesn't look up. Hey, he's trying to do the communication thing, but don't expect Bucky to LOOK AT YOU while he does it.

    "Started when I got word they were out, I guess. I got the message last night just before me and Opal..." A beat. "...went to bed."

    "I felt better this morning."

    LOOOONG silence. Like really long, weighted, heavy, filled with 'what did you do, Buck' anticipation.

    "Then I went to see Peggy before coming here and filled her in on what's been going on, all of it." ALL of it? No.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Sam's face does a complicated thing. His expression is a mix of happiness at hearing Bucky is engaging in normal human behaviors and marked discomfort at how his brain is continuously burdened with any kind of knowledge about Bucky's sex life.

    Which, admittedly, was bound to happen given that they're roommates. But still. It's the principle of the thing.

    "I can't imagine what 'all of it' even encompasses at this point," he says, and that deserves the weary sigh that Sam gives. He's up on his feet a moment later, navigating around Lili where she sits next to Bucky's chair so that he can deal with the leftovers of their lunch. Because Sam is an excellent house guest, thank you very much.

    He's standing at the sink when he asks, "Did you tell her about Zemo?"

James Barnes has posed:
    "Yeah," Bucky admits. "She didn't take it as bad as I thought they would. She was really pretty ... like she didn't really care as long as we had it under control."

    He finally leans back on the sofa and stares up at the ceiling.

    "So, did you ever get those files translated, the ones from Vermont? I can probably translate them if you haven't." He knows the basics, but... details, those are important. ...and Russian is his 'second language', no matter how it came to be.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    It looks like Sam is braced for bad news. Like he expects to no longer be a SHIELD agent after Peggy gets through with him, at the very least. It's not like actual jail time isn't on the table considering he aided and abetted.

    Sam leans heavily against the edge of the sink and blinks down at the soap suds sliding down towards the drain. "Shit," he mutters.

    He looks over his shoulder at Bucky, and the shock of no apparent repercussions (so far) is enough that he just accepts it. Sure. Peggy's totally fine with them breaking Baron Zemo out of prison.

    Everything's fine.

    After he's dried his hands off, he comes to sit back down. "Yeah, uh, I did. Ran it through Redwing's translation software a few nights ago." He looks like he wants to say more, but after a few seconds no further words have come to him, eyebrows drawn together as he looks downwards in uncomfortable deliberation.

    Finally, he adds, "I read through them all. There's... a lot." Even that doesn't seem to be quite what Sam's trying to say.

James Barnes has posed:
    "What do you mean, a lot?" Bucky asks, cautiously. He's learning to read Sam's cues and this doesn't seem like it's going anywhere good.

    "Is it contagious or something? Because surely I'd be melted by now if it is, so I didn't get it from those ones that night in Hell's Kitchen."

    He sits back up, elbows on his knees again, but his head's not down, his face isn't covered by his hair. Sam gets the full brunt of those pale blues and a different kind of BuckyStare... expectant, curious, and totally fucking clueless.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    There'd been a lot. Gigabytes of files, with plenty of attached pictures for reference. Enough that it'd taken hours just for the translation program to get through it all, before Sam could even crack them open and start reading.

    And then he'd had to stop. More than once. So it took a while to get through it all.

    He looks up at Bucky and his expression is tense. Not wary, just... deeply uncomfortable. "Buck, this is going to be hard for you to hear. I'm sorry." One big inhale is all Sam allows himself before he rips off the bandaid.

    "I didn't realize what they were referencing at first, but there were... details. About an original test subject, something they were using as a baseline. The files never specified a name but eventually it was obvious they were talking about you. About what they put you through as part of the Winter Soldier project."

James Barnes has posed:
    It takes a second for what Sam says to process through his brain. When it finally does, those pale blues of his widen a little and then, his expression is a mixed back of emotions all swirling around to, potentially, create the perfect storm.

    ...but for the moment he just sits there. "What do you mean?" he asks, quietly... carefully. How much of it, Sam? Is really what he's asking.

    "Can I see them?" Still quiet, still careful and maybe uncertain. Does he even want to?

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "I don't know. Enough." It's not as if Sam can really gauge how much of the torture Bucky went through was on those files, after all. He'd like to hope the answer was 'all of it' only because there was already so much, but...

    Man, fuck HYDRA.

    His eyes widen when Bucky asks to see them, almost like a panic response, but whatever Sam is thinking doesn't spill out. Instead he shakes his head, but it's not a no. Maybe just a bit of shock on Sam's part. "Are you sure you want to?" he asks. "They're your files. I don't think it'd do any good, but at the same time I don't think I can tell you no."

    Admittedly, that's a valid thing to do: say no if someone wants to see their files, if they pose a mental health risk to the person. But Sam isn't Bucky's therapist.

    "I'd, if it's not overstepping I want to be there if you do."

James Barnes has posed:
    In his head, Bucky is replaying all the fragments he can remember, the little disjointed and terrifying memories. Flashes of drills, scalpels, tubs of ice water... all the things they did to test how much more durable their serum made him, all the ways they pushed it to the limits so they would know how well they succeeded.

    But, in his mind, it's not even the pain of it that's the worst. It's *humiliating* to think that Sam's seen more of it than he already has and that anyone else might have.

    "Has anyone else seen them? Steve?" Quiet, barely there. He's still not certain if he wants to or not, so he doesn't address that yet.

Sam Wilson has posed:
    Immediately, Sam says, "No! No. Just me. I should've stopped once I figured it out, but..."

    Well. Maybe Sam doesn't want to admit how much willful ignorance played a part in exactly how long it took for him to put the puzzle pieces together. He looks vaguely guilty, looking down and away with his brow furrowed. "There wasn't much left at that point, and it--I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it."

    He digs the knuckles of his left hand into the side of his thigh. "Some of the science is beyond me but I can edit the files if we need to show them to someone else, make sure that there's nothing about you included."

James Barnes has posed:
    "Sam, don't... I get it. Even if you figured it out and kept reading, I get it, man. You deal with all my fucked up shit on the *daily*. I understand if you just wanted to ... understand better," Bucky replies, and not in a whisper. "It's okay. I just..."

    Deep breath, regroup. "Steve isn't like you, Sam. He's the eternal optimist, Mr. Hope. Sometimes I worry about him finding out the worst of it, like what if it shatters that spirit or something?"

    His leg bounces, he taps his fingers on his knee. "I wanna see them," now that's a whisper. "I have so many holes that my mind keeps trying to fill in with flickers and flashes that don't make sense half the time. Maybe... if I fill the holes in myself..." It'll actually be better?

Sam Wilson has posed:
    "That's not," Sam starts, but then he's not actually sure where he was going with that, so he never finishes the sentence.

    Eventually he has to stand back up. Sam would've thought that running ten miles over the course of one morning was enough to get rid of all his anxious energy, but he feels like his body has found a whole new cache of it dedicated to considering how badly this could all go. "No one else is going to see those files. They're encrypted and access is locked to my biometrics on top of that."

    The mention of Steve isn't even addressed. That's too much for Sam to deal with, even considering that.

    "Okay. We'll figure it out. There's a lot and it's not all about the Winter Soldier program, but I can run a keyword search, dump the relevant files into a separate directory." This seems to be more for Sam's benefit than Bucky's, like he's psyching himself up to tackle this. Head-on. Only way to do it.

    He unplugs his phone from where it's been charging, on the counter in the kitchen. "What time's the party at?"

James Barnes has posed:
    Bucky looks up at the clock on the wall. "Shit, if we're going to make it back on time, we need to leave like... now." He pushes himself to his feet and, honestly, seems a little relieved to find something else to focus on. "Will you get Lili ready? Get her vest on? I need to make a phone call."

    He's heading for the bedroom, fishing his phone from his pocket as he calls out, "Peggy offered me a promotion to full Agent status, but I told her I'm not sure I'm ready for it."

    ...fucking progress, isn't that about the biggest FUCK YOU he can toss at HYDRA. As long as he can stay out of their clutches that is.