Who: James Buchanan Barnes and Brock Rumlow What: chatting When: after their first meeting Rating: language
The hotel that Bucky had ended up at was not the nicest, but he barely noticed. It was free, and it had a bed and a mini fridge, and a shower, and a television. As far as he was concerned, it was the lap of fucking luxury. The bed was pretty comfortable, too. Sure, there were a few holes in the walls. There was a little mold in the corners of the tub. It was a damn sight better than most of the places he’d slept.
He used the key card and pushed the door open, leaving Rumlow to follow. “There’s only one bed,” he said. “But we can take it in shifts or something.”
Rumlow glanced around. It was a shithole, but he’d seen--and lived in--much worse. It was warm and dry and didn’t smell too bad, and best of all no one was trying to kill him at the moment. “I can sleep on the floor. Or in the bathtub. I ain’t picky.” He shrugged off his jacket and hung it over a chair. “Thanks again.” He realized he didn’t know what to call Barnes. He knew his name, of course, and that he went by Bucky, but he didn’t know if he had that right.
“No, man. I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor. I don’t need that much sleep, anyway.” Bucky reached for the remote control. “Anything you wanna see on TV?” he asked. “I don’t really know that much about what’s on. I’ve only really seen it in Eastern Europe, which is a lot different.” He settled down on the floor at the foot of the bed, sitting cross-legged, flipping idly through the channels.
Rumlow snorted. “You think I watch much TV? No, I don’t know what’s on and I don’t care.” He stretched. “What I would really love is a shower. Would you mind? I feel grimy.” It was strangely domestic. Sharing a room. Like they’d used to.
“Go right ahead. Whatever you want,” Bucky said. He stopped on the news and put the remote down. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He had intended to get some things to keep in the mini fridge, but he’d gotten distracted with Rumlow’s presence. “I’d offer you clean clothes to change into, but… I’ve got just about as much as you do.”
Rumlow looked down at himself. His clothes didn’t look too bad. He could wash them by hand if needed. “I think I can survive, thanks. I’ll go shower.” He walked into the bathroom. The tile was faded and chipped but seemed relatively clean. He disrobed and turned on the water, waiting a moment until it got hot, then got in with a sigh. He saw there was shampoo and conditioner, and he used as little as possible. By the time he finished he felt a hundred times better. He dried off, then wrapped the towel around his waist. He decided to rinse his briefs and socks before the water drained completely. At least they’d be clean for tomorrow. He hung them carefully, and since that left him nothing to wear, he walked back into the room in just the towel. He didn’t suppose they were standing on ceremony these days. “Thanks. That was great.”
Bucky glanced over his shoulder, gaze lingering on Rumlow for a moment. “Sure. No problem. Why don’t you get a little rest. The bed’s pretty comfy.” He wasn’t really paying much attention to the television, but he wanted Rumlow to feel comfortable to rest.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Rumlow said, sitting on the bed. It was a little awkward, but they’d been through worse. Awkward he could deal with. “And don’t worry about noise or nothin’. I can sleep through just about anything.” He slipped under the covers. The bed was pretty comfy, if a bit soft. It was better than the street any day.
Bucky turned off the television and opened up the laptop. He signed onto the network and he saw another post from Tony Stark. He decided to answer it. He was sure the other man already knew he was there. They kibbitzed back and forth for a while, but generally speaking, it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be. He glanced over his shoulder at Rumlow in the bed. He could tell he wasn’t asleep yet by the rate of his breathing.
Rumlow could sleep through anything, once he was asleep. On occasion, though, he did take a while to fall asleep. He figured this was as good an occasion as any. After all, it wasn’t every day you returned from the dead, having lost two years and a great deal of scarring. Or ran into the brainwashed soldier you’d been somewhat obsessed with for years, still very much alive and seemingly unbrainwashed. It was a lot to take in.
Bucky closed the laptop and moved around to the side of the bed, leaning back against it. “You okay?” he asked quietly. He could tell that Rumlow was awake. He could hear the couple next door arguing in Spanish. He could hear the guy across the hall playing his music too loud to try to pretend he had someone else in there with him. He knew that Rumlow’s breathing had not evened out into sleep yet.
Rumlow rolled onto his back. “My brain just won’t shut down, ya know?” He sighed. “I just keeping thinking through… everything. I don’t deserve a second chance. I’m waitin for the other shoe to drop.” He’d done a lot of shitty things he regretted.
Bucky let out a mirthless huff of laughter. “Yeah. I know how you feel.” He leaned his head back against the mattress, and inhaled a deep breath. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.
Rumlow hesitated. “You want the truth? It might not be something you wanna think about right now.” He still didn’t know how much Barnes remembered about that time, since they kept wiping him and reprogramming him.
Bucky shrugged his shoulders. “Might help to talk about it. At least it might help you get to sleep if you put it out there. No pressure.” He was curious, but he wasn’t going to push. Bucky had more than enough demons of his own. He wasn’t about to tell anyone else how to deal with theirs.
Rumlow sat up a little. “Okay. I keep thinking about Pierce. And how those assholes treated you. Like a thing. And I didn’t do enough to stop them.” He’d done his best, but he hadn’t always been there, and there was only so much he could do about it.
That wasn’t really what Bucky was expecting. Thinking about that was more than a little devastating. He’d put it all at that back of his mind, compartmentalized it. He knew it was probably eating away at him on some level, but he was doing what he had to do to function. “You did what you could. I was fucked up in the head. I couldn’t protect myself. I know you tried to help me. I don’t blame you.”
“I blame me, though. You were fucking helpless. As strong as you are…. And they resented that. They fucking used you, because they could. It made me sick.” Probably because he felt more for Barnes than he really should have. “I knew HYDRA was bad news. But I needed the money. By the time I got into it… it was too late. You can’t just give two weeks notice.” He knew it was not a good enough excuse. “It was kill or be killed.”
Bucky turned slightly from where he was sitting on the floor, so he could look at Rumlow’s face as they talked. “But you didn’t use me,” he said quietly. He lowered his gaze to the floor again, picking at the cheap carpet. Bucky had never really felt motivated by revenge. If Alexander Pierce miraculously showed up, Bucky didn’t think he’d waste any time trying to kill him. He’d just want to avoid him.
Rumlow gazed back at Barnes. “No. I didn’t.” He’d done a lot of very bad things and that was on his own conscience. But at least it was clear on that matter. He wanted to reach out and touch the other man, provide some sort of comfort. Barnes looked so lost. So young, even though he was a hundred years old. He’d been a victim. Even with all his strength he’d been so abused. He didn’t have that right though.
Bucky looked at Rumlow’s face again. “So you have nothing to be sorry for, at least about me.” Bucky had more than enough of his own demons to deal with. He couldn’t help the other man with his. He wasn’t sure what he could do to help Rumlow other than share what little he had with him, and listen.
Rumlow nodded. “I’m not looking for any kind of forgiveness. I know I don’t deserve it.” He forced himself to keep looking steadily at Barnes. “But it sorta feels like I got a second chance. I gotta figure out how not to blow that, ya know?” He shook his head. He was just rambling now. “Ignore me. I just came back from the dead. Kinda fucks you up,” he added with a chuckle.
“If anyone knows how you feel… it’s probably me.” Bucky didn’t buy the chuckle. He knew Rumlow had real regrets and he knew just what that felt like. “You can’t change the past. All you can do is try to live your life the way you wanna live it, and don’t give anyone else that kind of power over you again.”
Rumlow sat up all the way. This wasn’t a discussion you had lying down. Unless the other person was lying down too. He ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. Easier said than done, though, as I found out. Gonna try, though. I guess I was just layin’ here trying to figure it all out. Maybe I gotta admit I can’t do that yet.”
Bucky got up off the floor and sat on the bed, so they would be on the same level. “HYDRA definitely didn’t do either of us any favors. It’s not something anyone’s going to get over any time soon.” He bent over and started unlacing his boots. “If you could do your life however you wanted to, what would you do with this opportunity?” he asked, kicking off one boot and then untying the other.
Well, that wasn’t an easy question to answer. “I don’t know. I know I don’t wanna have to kill people for a living, or help people kill, any more. Just to start off with.” He leaned back against the rickety headboard. “How about you? You got any ideas what you wanna do?” He was uncomfortable talking so much about himself. He wasn’t used to it.
Bucky had been partially waiting to see if Steve showed up. Without his best friend there, he felt like an outsider among the others. He hadn’t given it much thought, either. He’d spent so much of his adult life being only good for shooting things. “Well… I used to make a damn fine martini. Maybe I could be a bartender. Or some manual labor thing. Do they have machines to do all that stuff now, though? I don’t even know. I guess I could work in IT somewhere.” His lips twitched. “I could get a job teaching Russian, maybe. I don’t know. They filled my head with so much shit I could probably do anything.”
Seeing Barnes almost smile was wonderful. It transformed his face and Rumlow could see the man he’d used to be under there. He’d seen the pictures in his file. Those had seemed to be of a different man. Now he could see it. “I bet you’re a great bartender. You wouldn’t need a bouncer neither.” He grinned.
Thinking about getting a job made Bucky think about how easy it would be to track them down if they tried to get legitimate work. They’d have to pay taxes and give addresses and all that. What they needed was fake identities. “Whatever we do, we’re gonna need different social security numbers. I should ask Strange about that. I wonder if Stark thought of that. It’d be nice to have a normal job, though. Just minding your own damn business and putting in an honest day’s work.”
“I wouldn’t really know what that was like,” admitted Rumlow. “I didn’t do so well in the real world. I pretty much went from the army to being a mercenary to HYDRA. So yeah. No real work experience to put on my resume.” It was strange to have the luxury to even consider it though.
“Maybe you could be the bouncer at the bar I get a job at,” he said, thinking aloud. It all sounded kind of nice. To just be normal. He wondered if he’d be able to do that again, slip back into his former life in a world that had long ago left him for dead.
Rumlow chuckled. “Sounds like a plan. We’ll make a good team. Ain’t nobody starting any shit on our watch.” It sounded great, however remote the possibility.
“Yeah, no,” Bucky agreed, chuckling a little. “That’d be the safest bar in New York.” It was a bit of a daydream. He didn’t think any of this would work out. He fully expected that they’d get bounced back to wherever they were from, only when that happened, Bucky would know that Rumlow… was dead. “Why don’t you try to get a little sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything, okay?”
“I’ll try,” Rumlow agreed. He did feel a little more relaxed, having gotten some of it out. As surreal as it was, this was the way things were now, and he was nothing if not a realist. He’d make the best of whatever happened. He was a survivor. So was Barnes. He scooted down, back under the covers, and was surprised to find he was sleepy now.
Bucky hesitated a moment, standing up. “Shove over,” he said, quietly. Bucky could easily sleep on the floor. He’d slept in far worse places. But just for the moment, it felt like Rumlow was the only person in the world on his side.
Rumlows eyes flew open but he didn’t hesitate. He scooted over to the edge of the bed. The bed wasn’t large but they’d shared smaller beds. He felt like he was holding his breath, though. So much had changed.
Bucky settled down on his side, facing away from Rumlow. He stayed on top of the covers. “Is this okay?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder. He remembered the times Rumlow had let him sleep in his bed in the HYDRA barracks, after he’d been abused by Pierce or the others.
Rumlow was on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah. Of course. Bed's plenty big enough and I know you don’t snore,” he tried to joke. “Besides. It’s your bed. I don’t mind, you know that.”
“Good night, Rumlow,” he said, closing his eyes. The bed felt like a fluffy marshmallow cloud to him, and he was more than content to let it lull him into unconsciousness. Despite the many demons he battled regularly, Bucky slept perfectly well.
Rumlow drifted off too, finally managing to ignore the surreality of his life. Having a warm body next to him was soothing. Whatever would happen tomorrow would happen.