#cookin in my stewpot

[shackleton2]

I'm working on this fic where I'm trying to write an emotionally dark take on post-Winter-Soldier recovery, where Steve & Co capture Soldier-Bucky right after the events of Insight, when he's still almost entirely in the grips of Hydra's programming.

I loved this Sebastian Stan quote someone shared on here: “That’s why he doesn’t kill him. That’s why he saves him. That end scene to me was always like: ‘I don’t know what this is, I just know I’m supposed to do this right now. Whatever this is, I’m supposed to protect this for some reason.” I love the heartbreaking urge to protect Steve being impossible to erase or repress despite everything, but what stands out for me is also that this confirms what his expression and act of walking away seem to say on the riverbank: he has no idea what the hell is going on. His brain didn't go "OMG STEVE" and switch him back over to Bucky Barnes in that incredible final moment on the helicarrier—the wall of programming just got its first tiny crack.

It drives me crazy that the Soldier walks away after saving Steve—he wants to know why he saved him, how he knows him, obviously, but he walks away from the simplest way to find those answers-STAY WITH STEVE, drink hot chocolate under blankets with steve!! It also drives my fangirl heart crazy what a stubborn resilient competent independent SOB post-WS Bucky is. He doesn’t trust anyone and he doesn’t want anyone to own him ever again.

He’s got conflicting lines of thought that lead to the same conclusion: He’s programmed to kill Steve, those are his final standing orders, and obeying orders is all he knows. If he wants to keep Steve safe on some level, he knows that won’t be with him, because of those orders, because Hydra owns him. On the other hand, if he’s realized that Hydra is his enemy, he also knows that SHIELD is Hydra, and Cap is affiliated with SHIELD, and thus can’t be trusted to keep Hydra away from him. And/or he disobeyed orders and abandoned his mission, and he doesn’t know why, but he does know the consequences for doing that, and thus has a lot of resentment for the guy that made him do so.

To be clear, I love the Bucky Barnes character and I think any narrative that casts him as a reformed villain who needs to make up for his past actions is bullshit. He is a victim, not only of what was done to him, but also what he was forced with zero agency to do. Having said that, I’m also totally riveted by the Winter Soldier as a bad guy, a threat, a killer. In the MCU movies he goes off after the Insight debacle and somehow deprograms himself all alone, and the next time we see him in Civil War he’s got his sense of himself as Bucky pretty much back—he’s in control of his actions, he knows his and Steve’s history, and he doesn’t want to hurt people. I’m stuck on what else the story could have been instead of the hand-wave transition from brainwashed murderer to Steve Rogers’ loyal friend. The only traumatic encounters with the Soldier Steve experiences are those in the movie where he’s actively trying to kill him, which that’s definitely bad enough for poor Steve—but what about traumatic emotional encounters? What about Steve Rogers trying to talk and reach his friend, but the person he’s talking to is the Soldier immediately post-Insight, still mentally in Hydra’s possession much more than his own?

Anyway one day this little scene came to me and I'm building this WIP, including these notes, around it. Successfully? Who knows, not me.

He regarded Steve through the glass with a hint of curiosity. His voice was soft and quiet. “Why do you come?”

Steve leaned forward and tried to meet those icy eyes. He couldn’t help it. “You’re my friend. You might not remember me, but I will always be your friend.”

The Soldier tilted his head, still questioning. “That’s why you come here?” Every day, Steve thought he heard unspoken; he wasn’t sure whether Bucky registered his presence at all some days, but maybe every instance was recorded in his mind. Maybe not. What happened to a supersoldier brain when it incurred severe sustained deliberate damage was a riddle they were just beginning to examine.

Steve was determined to be steadfast, but there was little he could do to calm the intensity of what he felt. He wanted Bucky to ask these things, because he wanted him to know these things, and he would tell him again and again forever in the hope he would one day believe him and then remember himself.

“I’m here because I want to know how you’re doing. I want you to know I’m here. I’ll come every day unless you tell me honestly you don’t want me to.”

Still the cocked head, the mystified expression. “You come because…he was your friend.”

He leaned in an inch more and found his forehead touching the glass. “You’re my friend. You are Bucky Barnes. You were born in 1917 and we grew up together. You are a good man. What happened to you…was wrong, and I will do everything I can to make it better, for the rest of my life. That’s a promise.”

The cocked head straightened and it looked like some kind of comprehension dawned. He was looking at Steve in a way he couldn’t remember Bucky ever looking before, and after wondering for a few moments Steve realized it was pity on his face.

“You think he’s here.” The look of pity intensified. “You think you...can talk. To him.”

Steve swallowed. “I…I know he is. I don’t know how to convince you it’s true, but I swear it. We played together as kids and then we grew up and lived together and then the war came and we fought together. And now we’re here. I know you don’t remember, Bucky, but there’s no way I’m giving up on you, even if you never do. I know you. I’ve known you as long as I can remember.”

On the other side of the glass Bucky’s expression had settled into the blank resignation the Soldier often wore. He licked his lips, an oddly human gesture that hurt Steve’s heart, and then said, with what might have been an attempt at gentleness, “Your friend. Is gone.”

Steve took a moment, felt his forehead press a little harder on the glass. “If he’s gone, who am I talking to?”

“What,” the Soldier corrected, and then answered, “Hydra.”

He was going to need a lot of punching bags later. “Emotions don’t help,” Natasha had told him, brisk and flint-hard the way she was when she was being kind. “Men think they understand this, but they don’t. Understand it.”

Steve was beginning to understand. He didn’t howl or pound on the glass or leave to find a fight. Instead he swallowed again and asked with a calm that shocked him, “So you…believe in Hydra? In what they do?”

“The Soldier is the fist of Hydra. Weapons don’t believe. They do not need to. The Winter Soldier. Is. Hydra.”

That was the most the Soldier had spoken in one go.

[queen-scribbles]

Where I Want to Be

@pillarspromptsweekly #47: Roll for It. I got Edér, a farm, and exhaustion, so obviously I used it as an excuse to write established relationship Ederity. :D lbr I was gonna write Ederity anyway, this just made it easier

The sun was just starting to sink as Edér finally reached Charity’s house, and he couldn’t help but wince. He’d meant to get here by mid-afternoon at the latest, help her with clearing and planting a couple of her gardens. But the mayor stuff today had been just one thing after another, and before he knew it, it was early evening as he waved farewell to the last of the villagers who’d wanted to talk to him.

It wasn’t so much worry over Charity’s reaction--she’d repeatedly made it clear she didn’t want him skimping on his mayoral duties to spend time with her. That was his job, and during its set portion of the day, it needed to come first. But Edér had been looking forward to spending most of the day with her, and losing out on that because Gjyra wanted to complain about Soren’s out of control mulberry bushes(again) was more than a little disappointing. He was here now, however, and there were still a few hours left in the day. It was something.

From what he could see as he made his way to the door, Charity had gotten a lot done. It didn’t surprise him; she was one of the hardest workers he knew. He knocked on the door, frowned slightly when there was no response, and tried again. “Charity?”

Still nothing. Knowing she left the door unlocked whenever she was home, Edér turned the knob. It opened without resistance and he shook his head as he stepped inside. I gotta talk to her about that... “Chari-” Oh.

His worried frown turned to a fond smile when he saw why Charity hadn’t answered the door. She was asleep on the sofa. It clearly wasn’t something planned, judging by the mug of tea resting precariously on her knee and tipping ever-closer to disaster. Biting back a chuckle, Edér crossed the room in two swift strides and deftly rescued the mug from her loose grip. Charity barely stirred as he took it, and he couldn’t resist brushing a kiss against her forehead.

It looked like she’d sat down with her tea to wait wait for him and nodded off. Wasn’t hard to figure out why, either; Edér could see the mud caked on her boots and dirt and grass stains that streaked her clothes. Charity had worked hard all day and was beat. ‘Course, the warm, snuggly calico curled up in her lap probably hadn’t helped her stay awake, either. Sparrow mewed at him and Edér smiled as he reached to pet her.

Judging by how warm the tea was, Charity hadn’t drifted off that long ago, which meant se’d likely be out for a while. After paying due attention to Sparrow, Edér straightened and carried Charity’s boots over to the entry vestibule. He pulled his off, too, so he could move quieter, and then grabbed one of the extra blankets from her spare room.

Sparrow caught on to what he was doing, and moved long enough for him to drape the lightweight blanket over Charity before settling back into her spot. Charity shifted as the cat got comfortable, mumbling in her sleep and flinging one arm up next to her head. 

Edér smiled affectionately and watched her sleep for a minute. You’re so blazin’ cute. He rolled his eyes. An’ I’m so blazin’ smitten. He may have been too late to help with the gardens, but there was something he could do to help, something he was indisputably better at than she was.

Humming a nonsense tune under his breath, Edér headed for the kitchen 

***

For a minute as she slid toward wakefulness, Charity thought she was still dreaming. What other explanation was there for the positively divine aroma filling the air? But then the low clatter of someone trying to cook quietly reached her and she remembered.

Edér was coming over. With that thought, she shot awake. They’d already missed a good chunk of the day, who knew how much more had potentially wasted because she couldn’t keep her eyes open for five damn minutes.

Sur enough, as she rubbed sleep from her eyes and stretched, she could see Edér in her kitchen. His back was to her, sleeves rolled up, as he worked on whatever he was cooking. Occasionally he would turn and murmur something with a smile to Sparrow, who was perched on the pass-through between kitchen and dining room, tail twitching around her paws.

Charity smiled lazily as she watched. My cat likes you almost as much as I do. She yawned and went to brush hair back from her face. That was when she noticed her bun had loosened and migrated downwards, the remaining pathetic knot hanging against the nape of her neck. She was still debating whether to fix it when Edér turned and saw she was awake. Gods, she wished she could bottle that smile and use it to brighten rainy days.

“Good timin’ sleepyhead,” Edér winked. He grabbed a rag and swung the bubbling stewpot away from the fire. “Just finished cookin’.”

“Whatever it is smells delicious,” Charity said, pushing aside the blanket. Her hair started to slide forward when she moved to sit upright, and she huffed softly in exasperation as she made up her mind and tugged loose the wrecked bun.  “And I’m starving.”

Edér chuckled. “Figured that would be the case. Looks like you worked hard.”

Charity nodded as she gathered her hair in a loose, low ponytail. “Been fightin’ weeds an’ tree roots all by my lonesome all day.”

He shot her a sheepish look. “Sorry. I meant to come help, but-”

She shook her head. “Not what I was insinuatin’, sweetheart. Mayor stuff comes first. I’m just tired, ‘cause there were dozen of weeds but only one me.”

“Looks like y’ still won, though,” Edér said, grinning, as he ladled out two bowl of stew and joined her on the couch.

Charity smirked. “That I did.” She kissed him on the cheek as she accepted the bowl of stew. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, darlin’“ He obligingly shifted a bit further away when Sparrow hopped up between them. “I think we have a chaperone.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nah, I just have a beggar for a cat.” She scooped Sparrow up with her free hand, scooched closer to Edér, and deposited the calico on the arm of the couch. “There.”

Sparrow let out a decidedly grumpy mroawww and jumped up to stalk along the back of the couch.

“So. My day was exhausting, how was yours?” Charity asked as she blew on her food to cool it.

“Also exhaustin’, just for different reasons,” Edér chuckled. “There are time I swear the people in this village make up problems if they ain’t got any sometimes.”

“Well, I mean, I’d make up excuses t’ come talk to you,” she said with a wink.

“Yeah, but we’re courtin’, that’s different. ‘sides, you don’t hafta make stuff up to spend time with me.”

“I know. Just sayin’ I understand why someone would make something up for a chance to talk t’ you.” She grinned mischievously, which turned into a quiet groan of pleasure as she took her first bite. “Mmm, ‘course, none of ‘em are ever gonna see you again, on account of me lockin’ you up here to cook for me forever. Gods, this is good.”

Edér laughed. “Glad you approve. I did what I could spur of the moment.”

“If this is what you can pull off spur of the moment, no wonder Tavi was grumpy at you for holdin’ out on her.” Whatever he’d put in it reminded her of her mother’s stew, just a little. Something in the seasonings. Or maybe I’m just still tired...

“Well, thank you,” Edér said with a smile. “But it’s more a compliment to how well your kitchen’s stocked than my cookin’ skills.” He winked. “Not that I’m opposed to takin’ a compliment from a pretty gal when she offers.”

Charity blushed so hard at that she forgot to check her next bite had cooled and burned the roof of her mouth. She grimaced but swallowed it anyway, groping for her long-cooled tea to wash it down. “And thank you right back for that,” she finally managed.

“Y’ alright?” He raised an eyebrow in concern.

She nooded. “Hotter’n I expected. I’ll just have to be more careful’s all.”

“Mm.” Twinkle in his eye, Edér leaned forward and kissed the corner of her mouth.

It was Charity’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What was that for?”

“Kissin’ it better,” he said matter of factly. “Why, wrong spot?”

“Close enough.” She grinned as she scooped up another bite, careful to blow on this one enough before eating it. “So, anything from your day we can talk about, or is it all private? ‘Cause in that case we can talk about my day.”

“I wanna hear about your day anyway,” Edér informed her around a mouthful of stew. “But there are actually a couple things I can share...”

***

They spent the next hour or so talking and laughing as they ate, occasionally pausing to pet Sparrow when she got tired of being ignored and made a fuss. Finally, though, after two helpings each and several shared stories, Edér collected their bowls and carried them into the kitchen. He waved off Charity’s offers to help and protests that he shouldn’t do all the work, it was her kitchen.

“I’m the one who cooked, so it’s my mess an’ only fair I clean up,” he argued. “You stay right there.”

“Well, I’m not gonna argue when a handsome fella tells me to relax,” Charity winked, scratching under Sparrow’s chin when the cat settled in her lap again.

Edér laughed and hurried through cleaning up so he could rejoin her on the sofa. “Now that that’s out of the way...” He tugged her closer. “C’mere.”

“You might not wanna do that,” Charity said with a wry laugh, half-heartedly resisting him. “I’m still pretty beat, so if you get me too comfortable, I will fall asleep.”

“I can think of worse places to be trapped,” Edér countered, grinning. “I’ll risk it.”

“Alright, hope you don’t have anything mayor-y and important first thing in the morning,” she giggled as she relented and let him pull her close.

“Not a blazin’ one,” he promised, kissing her temple as they got settled.

“Well, then...” Charity reached for the blanket that had fallen on the floor. She dropped it on the far end of the couch, barely covering their feet, and winked. “Just in case.”

It proved to be a good precaution. She started drifting off again within five minutes of them getting settled.

Edér chuckled as he felt her relax, laying heavier on top of him, and kissed the top of her head. “Night, Char.”

Charity mumbled something unintelligible and snuggled further in. Just as she’d warned, he was trapped now. Edér smiled to himself and rubbed her back as he felt his own weariness finally catch him. No place I’d rather be...