9019/If I Ever Lose My Faith In You(r Code Words)

If I Ever Lose My Faith In You(r Code Words)
Date of Scene:	09 December 2021
Location:	Rooftop, Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	Bucky and Wanda lay plans.
Cast of Characters:	Wanda Maximoff, James Barnes

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Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Avengers Mansion has a very lovely rooftop, believe it or not. One where few bother congregating when it's cold or during the daytime, and they technically have day jobs. Wanda Maximoff's day job is being the universe. Really. It pays horribly.

She has no need for a space heater when wrapped up appropriately, mittens and knit hat going with her winter-weight red coat. Her phone is set up to play a serenade of something other than Christmas carols, though 70s and 80s Berlin-esque music shouldn't be too surprising. Underground German dance bleeding into Duran Duran, the New Romantic Movement, and the occasional Joy Division or David Bowie keeps her happy enough. The purpose up there might be sweetened by a cup of black tea, black bread, borscht. Stuff they grew up on in the Iron Curtain lands, even when the curtain fell. Or because that food sticks to your damn bones; ask the Russians, who will complain around -295'C when it's finally cold enough to wear boots.

Her secondary purpose is fairly straightforward, having pinned a text message in the ether to find Bucky. If he doesn't have a phone, it /still/ finds him... just the conventional way. Like a thought. <<I'm up here enjoying the view. Lunch?>>

James Barnes has posed:
He has a phone. He even learned how to use it already. But then, Hydra made sure that every time he was woken up, he was updated as to the latest communication technologies, among other things. Few things stand in his way anymore, tech-wise. Sometimes his arm proves to be a bit difficult to handle, but otherwise...

Bucky walks out onto the roof without answering the text message. He was nearby so it didn't take him long. In jeans, running shoes, and a zip-up hoodie with the Avengers logo on it, he smiles quietly when he spots Wanda, and makes his way towards her. No gloves on when he's in the house; but his hands at in the hoodie's pouch.

"Another great view." He's not really looking at New York, though.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Amazing how phones change communication in all respects. They improve the ability to do so much, spanning continents in microseconds, and putting all of Tolkien's works and legions of arguing fans at someone's fingertips.

"You only say that because we face the street and park. If we were facing a wall of buildings, would it?" Wanda doesn't protest. She turns when he becomes mostly audible to her, which isn't much to go off of. But she's learning to distinguish his footsteps! Part of the stealth training, really. Her breath steams in the cold. "Hungry?" Her habits in the kitchen to make enough for everyone are probably legendary by this point. Stress relief, way of being useful when others are about their days. "Good day so far?" A finger taps her head.

A check-in for both of them, probably. Knowing when one slips is a fine way to alert others. Or put a bullet in her, if it came to it.

James Barnes has posed:
Bucky smiles at her as he stops and then lowers himself to sit across from her, crisscros applesauce. "It'd be the same view," he points out, because again: not looking at New York. He bobs his head in a nod at the question if he's hungry, and reaches out to pick up something with his metal fingers, so the temperature of neither the air nor the food matter much.

Her other question gets a quick shrug. "Not great. Better than most." Then he turns those blue eyes on her and lifts his brows. "You?"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"You say that." Wanda isn't arguing. She looks instead up at the buildings fringing Central Park in a staccato skyline, creme-de-la-creme of the city, and blows out a slow breath. "You keep saying that and I might notions you're talking about me. Would not want you to make a mistake about that, da?" Her Transian accent that she works so hard to hide is there, now and then, peeking out around the corners. Exaggerated, though. A conscious act of control as she gives him a chuckle. "Make sure you mean the accident, that's what Pietro would say."

The high metabolism shared by the twins means she always has something at hand to nibble on, though in this case, it's black tea. Tea will do. "Comfortable, but not trusting the comfort. Always question when things too right?" Shaking her head throws her hair as she turns and then faces him, since standing while he sits is awkward. "We haven't worked on blocks much in the past few weeks, have we? I did promise to help you with that."

James Barnes has posed:
Bucky just smiles quietly through chewing his food, watching her as she turns. "I'll make sure to keep saying it, then." Her comment about her brother gets a roll of his eyes and a broader smile. If her accent is even noticed by him, it's only a positive.

"Always question when things are too right," Bucky confirms, sighing. Then she's bringing up blocks and he takes a deep breath, nodding. "We haven't, and you did." Which is as much an invitation as she'll get. Not that she needs it, at this point.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The bread and the borscht, stuff of champions. They at least help to keep the cold at bay for those bothered by it. Wanda tucks her feet beneath her, the better not to get too terribly chilled by the rooftop. Even heated tiles would be an unnecessary expense out here. "Is that so?"

She checks inside the small Thermos for the soup and pours out a cup, gathering up a spoon. This she hands to Bucky, totally aware he can manage himself. "I have some guilt, always looking out for things to go wrong. You see people like Janet, living in the moment, making the most of it. Or Carol, she can be like that, but I wear the wrong-colored glasses." Her fingers earn a good shake. Tsk, hot soup. "Like gardening. Keep removing the weeds so the other flowers grow. I'm going to find a plot somewhere in the city in a community garden, under a different name. In the spring it will be bare and I will fight all summer long to have one sweet tomato for myself. You will see the excitement of it on a salad, and try your best to smile while eating the fruits of my labour." It's all in good jest.

Might it be?

"Mental blocks. I meditate to create them, you know. Like the clarity you get in the mind behind a sniper rifle, lying in the snow. Except contorting your body and sitting in place, present, breathing." Her hands spread. "Your mind is supple, even when conditioned to act a certain way. Believe it, da? What was written in can be written out. The immediate way, not smart for you or me, short of emergencies. I am not a perfect telepath. Not like actual ones who do this, and the telepath, they would tell you better to use conventional or slow methods. So ignore all that and we have something different. We can find the trigger, and we can break it. They made it. You merely have to uproot the symbolism, and weaken its power." His reactions are gauged accordingly through clear, wide green-amber eyes. "Weeding. Gardening. Same trope."

James Barnes has posed:
James is listening. He doesn't have anything more important to do. Literally, this is the most important thing. He needs to get through this.

He eats while he listens to her explanation. It's not that he doesn't know most of these things, it's that listening to her enumerate and explain gets him in the mindset of thinking about these things and considering the implications.

Her metaphor helps, too, to be frank. "We find the weeds they planted and rip them out, then."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Eating is more important than listening for some people. He needs both, surely, but Wanda will never be the kind to force that on anyone. Usually.

She taps her fingers on the table, and then dips the bread for another bite. Not the best way to eat, but efficient and warm will do. Crumbs limited to a dusting, she can blow them away for birds to catch up. "We rip out the weeds."

James Barnes has posed:
"It sounds a lot more simple than I'm guessing it will end up being," Bucky says, tone half-amused, half-tired. He picks up more bread, dips it in the borscht, then pops it in his mouth. "Any chance we can do it through some representational hallucinations so it's at least entertaining? You know, like how in _Hackers_ the hacking is like video games." Someone's been catching up on nineties cinema.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
With a roll of her shoulder, Wanda sits back in that comfortable position more than half informed by yoga. "Things that simple would be very comfortable for us. I would not worry about losing my mind. You would not dread some HYDRA agent walking up. Steve would sleep well because he knows the world is better than he left it. Factors we can limit, but not remove."

His questions though, they earn a smile and a quick nod. "I can project into your thoughts, your dreams. You create a space in your head that is unique to you, and we review the world like... maybe like when you were there. A set of a movie. It will replay itself from the start but you get to be the actor /and/ director. Even a producer. I am like the assistant producer, or a screenwriter. I stop when something happens and shift it, if you need that."

James Barnes has posed:
Bucky kind of stares blankly. He caught up with the cinema, not the cinematic industry. But it's clear, after another piece of borscht-soaked bread, that he understands the concept that she's pitching.

"I'm willing to try it." He leans back, placing his hands on the floor and leaning back to look up at the sky. Maybe the first time he's looked at anything but her since he got here. "Small steps, though. If I dissociate while you're in my head and my body decides to act on its own..." The Winter Soldier doesn't need _Bucky_ to use his body and Wanda might be too busy in his head to protect herself from a metal arm through her sternum.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
They still had sets in the day. Inconceivable that anything could work otherwise! Wanda tilts her head slightly and the spill of her bangs from under her hood gets in the way, brushed off. "We have control to pull out at any time, this way. It's going to require work on our part to decide how it all comes together and how we test it."

His concerns are simple enough, after all, and met with a slight nod. "I don't need to be in the room with you. I do not even need to be in this plane, if that becomes a necessity. Walking through your dreams puts us in another space."

James Barnes has posed:
Bucky considers that, and then slowly bobs his head in acceptance. "All right." After a long moment, he adds, "Because if I did anything to you -- hurt you -- I don't..." Bucky's hurt a lot of people. Some of those people he has cared for, most he hasn't. But there are things even a man like him doesn't come back from. "Let's avoid it. Please."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"James."

She only uses the name to cut through the tape, speaking directly. Her hands rest on her knees. "Would you believe me when I say I do not want to add this burden to you, too? You cannot make a clean break from the past, none of us can. We carry the burdens with us. But you can always start a new cycle, and I will not bring this one forward in blood like that." He has reason to fear and doubt. The look in those blue eyes is read, her body sliding forward, putting her fully on her knees. Shuffling over across the rooftop is an act of humility only in the smallest of senses.

Enough that she takes his hands, if he grants her that right. "I will always try to be as safe as we can. You control how far it goes. You say stop and it stops. We don't have to do this, and no one will be allowed to pressure you." The long moments in quiet contemplation skim together. "I don't want you to hurt either. What good is it to hurt someone to start healing? I have never understood."

James Barnes has posed:
He listens to her and watches her, and when she starts to move, he doesn't. He waits until she's taken his hands,a nd then he curls his fingers, clutching hers gently --but clutching nonetheless-- until he only has to lean forward a little to press his forehead against hers and let out a soft, low sigh. He closes those blue eyes and then smiles a bit.

"How do you know what to say to put me at ease?" They barely know each other, in the grand scheme of things. What are months to someone who's lived over a hundred years? But that doesn't really seem to matter with this sort of thing. Time, like most things, falls prey to intensity, and Bucky finds himself trusting a Transian witch.

He tips his head up and looks her in the eyes, even if this means crossing his a little bit. It takes him a moment, and then he leans forward more, pressing his mouth against hers in an easy kiss that makes his shoulders sag in relaxation.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Clutching is not interbraided. Not a gesture of a gentle grasp, or the awkward placement of not knowing what to do with a thumb or should the wrist be clasped? Make of that how one will, it's a mystery inevitably tied into the act of union and reunion. Separations that carve people apart can be so easily fixed. They are here, where Bucky holds her long hands in his own. Silver and cream, both treated exactly the same.

"Because I have walked a hard road and learned very slowly?" Wanda can only guess. Her path is strewn with boulders, glass, and landmines. "I try to meet you where you are. You are open-minded and listen, which helps. Silent resignation on my part isn't so good a look."

Truly, not a good look for everyone. Or anyone. Thoughts that blow away in the cold air when he leans in, and she brings her mouth to his in a lingering, quiet press. It might last a little longer than intended, but satisfied.

James Barnes has posed:
There's no such thing as 'longer than intended'. Bucky's hands slide out of her grasp and he lifts his fingers up, flesh and metal, to her face, brushing his fingertips over her skin and pushing back any stray hairs that are in the way before he deepens the kiss, his grasp wrapping gently around her jaw, to the back of her neck.

By the time the kiss ends, he's smiling and his eyes are closed. His heartbeat isn't even elevated; quite the contrary, it's very steady.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Longer than intended measured by factors like time passing, lack of oxygen, passing out? Nothing like a good old medical emergency to put a bow on a tender moment.

Wanda Maximoff, more than anyone, knows not to rush these things. Not when Bucky asserts himself in a delicate balance, emerging victorious from the quagmire of darkened thoughts and broken lives scattered across ten decades. Hands that have expertly shifted magazines or used knives to terrifying effect instead find her warm, tracing a finger up his wrist all the way to the shoulder. Fingers that have clutched Soviet torture devices while subjected to tests of his resilience or pain tolerance will know nothing other than the slight rise as she leans in, settling into place. Fear has no bearing here. Her hand comes to rest at his collar, playing where flesh and cotton meet.

Pulling apart is an act of tactical brilliance. Always leave them wanting more, too stunned to retreat or bemused to mount a salient response. A bookmarked thought about the van Dynes will come at another time.

James Barnes has posed:
Tactical brilliance, required pause, maybe just self-limitation. It doesn't really matter: he does pull back, but only a few inches, his nose pressing against hers and shifting side to side. It, evidently, doesn't matter why she manages to make him feel better; she does, and for the moment, that's more than enough.

Bucky doesn't move much. He just strokes her temples with his thumbs slowly, back and forth, watching her.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"We should get in before it grows too cold to move," Wanda warns. Not much of a warning; more skimmed in laughter. Her mouth is warm, her nose pressed to Bucky's for a moment as she sketches a little shape to his cheek. "Even if you are unbearably charming, I know better. It will be minus four in half an hour, then I will not know where my feet are." Those boots are more show than cold-proof.

Lest he be mistaken, she widens in a smile. "Let's go downstairs. You should tell Nadia there is borscht too. She will look forward to that, and you. Very bright girl."

James Barnes has posed:
Bucky watches her for a moment, eyes shifting, and then he nods. "Yeah." He leans back, and then rises to his full six feet, crouching again only to start helping her get all those things she brought up here packed up.

"I'm sure she'll enjoy it," he says, looking up at her and smiling a little."