Entry tags:

active: bucky barnes

WHO: Diana & Bucky
WHERE: Their apartment
WHEN: Morning of the return to the present!
WARNINGS: Nada. Just some sad nostalgia.
SPOILERS? Wonder Woman/Justice League spoilers? Nothing major.

It hit her harder than anticipated, the present. When Diana looked out the window that morning, she saw with a sullen smile that they had been transported back to a brand new year. There were times when she had truly enjoyed celebrating the Earth succeeding in another orbit, but this time her mood felt almost… cold. She drew back the curtain with a sigh and began to dress for work later that morning.

She emerged ready, slightly late for the usual breakfast time. It was becoming a routine, meeting Bucky in the kitchen for a morning meal. Usually, she turned up with a smile and an idea for what to make. This time, she looked lost in thought, missing his presence altogether as she made way to the refrigerator and retrieved the milk and eggs.

When she closed the door and turned, Diana nearly jumped at the sight of Bucky standing by the kitchen counter. “Oh! I’m sorry, I was ill-prepared to see you -- good morning, Bucky.”

Bucky hadn’t been trying to lurk, standing pretty much in the middle of the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he took a sip from a cup of coffee. It was easy to see Diana was distracted, though. Living in the same apartment for over a month, she was familiar to him.

He gave a shake of his head, drawing another sip of coffee before setting down the mug. “It’s fine. You alright?”

Something was clearly going on, and he wordlessly took the eggs from her to turn to the stove, figuring he could handle making breakfast for them this time. He wasn’t a very good cook, but eggs seemed simple enough.

Eggs relinquished, she set aside the milk for him to use if he required. Arms folded under her chest, she leaned against the counter next to him while he started up their routine. The smell of coffee was terribly tempting, though what they sold in America certainly paled in comparison to what she enjoyed daily in Paris. She looked down at the tiled floor with a frown, unsure of how to proceed.

Ordinarily their mornings weren’t quiet so much as they were comfortable. She enjoyed the budding routine between them. Bucky had proven to be exceptional company, and it was certainly a perk that he knew the past in a similar fashion as she did. Even so, she was reluctant to give voice to her feelings, as she didn’t quite know how to put them into words.

“I’m fine,” she assured, but seemed to hesitate. “Though, I suppose I’m… Have you looked outside yet?”

“Not the past anymore.” Bucky figured that was what she meant, as he doubted something as small as the weather would cause Diana to seem so out of sorts. Her saying she was fine was one thing, but he could see she wasn't. An insight born of so many mornings spent sharing the same table.

“That’s right,” she replied glumly, head tilted to catch a glimpse of the modern world outside the kitchen window. Often it felt like her heart was still stuck back in the Great War, doomed to repeatedly explode over and over again for fear of forgetting that it had burst at all. She had tried to live a quiet life after the battle, one of self-imposed peace. The world had other plans.

“I’m much too nostalgic for my own good, I think,” she added, the ghost of laugh in its wake. All thoughts led her right back to Steve, but she didn’t want to admit that, not aloud.

“It was familiar to you,” he commented, gaze and attention on the eggs in the pan, but his focus on her at the same time. “I was only a kid in the twenties the first time around, so I don't remember it much.”

That could be said for a lot of things, honestly, but Bucky did have some recollections of being back in that time. Enough that it had been a familiar feeling to him, too. “Probably felt nice being back there though, right?”

“In some ways… yes,” she conceded. On one hand, she had gone into that time with the loss of a dear friend. On the other, she had gotten to see more of the world and what beautiful things it had to offer. She could never return to Themyscira, so beauty had to be found elsewhere. The art created attracted her, gave her purpose, and had become a constant in her life.

“Your friend, Steve,” she glanced at him, doing a valiant job not to wince when she spoke the name aloud. “He told me the same. Was it hard for you, living through the thirties?”

Bucky was quiet a long moment as he thought back, pulled memories together. “It wasn't easy,” he answered, brow furrowing slightly. At the time it had been difficult but in comparison to what came after, it hadn't been so bad. He pulled a couple plates from the cupboard, setting them on the counter to be ready when the eggs were done. “The Depression made things tough, but we made it through.”

“I remember the Hoovervilles,” Diana lamented, crestfallen. “I also remember some of the hidden joys found there despite the circumstances. Though it is much easier to reflect with rosier glasses on the past, isn’t it?” Not always, she knew.

With a pause, Diana leaned over to peer at the eggs. “Those are done to my liking. Shall we have pancakes this morning as well?” Perhaps focusing on their regular routine would perk her up more and accept that she was not some kind of time-traveling vagabond caught between where she was and where could never be again.

It brought a light smile to Bucky’s face when she said the eggs looked right. He knew they weren’t as good as if she had done them, he couldn’t make little faces out of them or anything, but they’d taste alright. Doling them out onto the plates, he shifted the empty skillet to the sink to be cleaned once it wasn’t so hot anymore.

“I could do pancakes.” It was one of the few things Bucky knew he could make, though they weren’t always pretty but they tasted fine. Pancakes were what he’d made the first morning after Sam gave him his arm, giving him a better ability to do things. “Can you get a bowl?”

She returned the smile with a laugh, appreciating the tables being turned. He had become a friend without her realizing it, and she liked that. Patting his arm gently in a show of appreciation, she nodded at his question and grabbed one. Since he was keen to finish breakfast for them, she shuffled along to pour a cup of coffee (two sugars with cream!) for herself, then settled at the kitchen table.

“Thank you for this,” she gestured to his efforts. “You’ll at least allow me to clean up after we finish eating, hmm?”

“Should probably wait to see if it's edible before thanking me,” Bucky said, an undertone of teasing in his voice. Everything would be, but it was always seemed second nature to deflect that sort of thing. “But you can help me clean up if you want.”

The pancakes came together easily enough, and once there were enough made to fill both their plates he left the rest of the batter in the bowl and joined Diana at the table, pausing to top off his coffee.

“I know that it will be fine,” she grinned. There was fortune to be found in Goodland at times. She had to treasure these moments and reflect on the fact that she would never have met Bucky otherwise. It was strange to think of their paths never crossing in their own worlds, but she knew it to be the case.

Anything appeared to be possible here, but she didn’t dare let it give her false hope. She couldn’t so much as deign to consider that Steve could be brought here from moments before his death. She had, in her own way, moved on and done so without forgetting him. That was how it had to stay.

With the table set for their breakfast, she offered him the syrup once she finished dousing the pancakes in them. “So, what do you plan to do today?”

“I don't know,” Bucky answered honestly as he poured some syrup onto his own pancakes. He'd only planned as far as breakfast, so once that was done he wasn't sure. He took a few bites before pausing, corner of his mouth quirking. “I need to find a job but I have… I don't have experience with anything that would be helpful for anything.”

“You were a soldier,” Diana pointed out. “Surely there’s something there you could start with? Perhaps as a security officer or even in a recruitment office, if they exist here.” She hadn’t considered the latter not being necessary in this universe, but it was worth looking into.

“I would offer you something at the museum, but I fear the work is found to be boring for most,” she chuckled, hands now braced around the warm mug. “Unless you have a particular penchant for art?”

‘Soldier’ felt like a loaded word, a loaded identity for Bucky to attach himself to. After all, he’d never chosen that life for himself with the army, and then the Winter Solider -- he definitely hadn’t chosen that, either. A few more bites of food, quiet thought, then he set down his fork.

“Never was good at art,” he replied, giving a slight shake of his head. “Boring -- don’t know if I’d mind boring. Think I’ve had enough excitement for a few lifetimes, you know? Not that you need to get me a job, just saying. Something… low stakes, that doesn’t sound bad.”

“No?” She understood the silence that often followed talk of life at war. She didn’t make a point to bring it up often in their morning conversations, but from time to time Diana couldn’t help but to reminisce. War was hard and cruel, but the camaraderie was invaluable. She took one more sip of coffee before leaning back daintily in her chair, hands folded in her lap as she considered some options.

“What about managing the incoming and outgoing pieces? I think there might be an opening for as much, I could check today.”

It sounded… doable. He’d want more information about what it entailed, but if Diana thought it was something Bucky could do he figured he could trust that. It wasn’t like she would put him out there for a job that would cause her job trouble if she didn’t think he could do it. Besides, no point asking a bunch of questions when it was still only a maybe. “Sure, if you could. Thanks, Diana, I’d appreciate that.”

“It’s the least I can do, you’ve been so gracious to me here. I appreciate it, truly.” Diana was more than happy to help him out. It was easy to tell he’d seen hell, but he was managing it as best he could--better than she had, so far as she could tell. Diana had cut herself off from the world, lost hope, and hid in the shadows.

From one soldier to another, she would look out for him. With a bright smile, she picked up their finished plates and headed to wash them quickly. Duty called, she had to get to work.