Fill the Cracks - Monster and Machine

"How much is rent?" Steve asked as he sat down at the kitchen bar. He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, watching Bucky cook. "I know you have heat and a/c. It's a one bathroom apartment though isn't it? Or is the second one in the master bedroom?"

"Well..." Bucky explained the rent, utilities included, it was one bathroom two bedroom, and then had to go back to flip the nuggets and throw them in for another ten minutes. Coming back yet again, he shifted, "It wouldn't be immediate. You can take your time thinking about it even though I know you're going to agree. Ask people at the Tower what they think and whatnot before you start packing." He chuckled.

"Nat would probably drag me into my room to start and Clint would be happy to get me out of there. I think they were tired of me moping. Tony wouldn't take too much offense as I think he'd use the time to decorate the room." Steve laughed a little. "But I'll talk to them. I'll talk to Angelina too. I know she'll say that she'll want me here, but I want to hear it from her and her thoughts. I know that it makes her happy to feel like her voice is valid."

"You do good for her, and you've always been the mother hen," Bucky teased, "I am sure I used to be, but I don't worry so much anymore. I think...having you around will be refreshing for her. For me, too, but you do so much already that it'd be natural."

"Well, everything was reversed back then," Steve said fondly. "I'm just cashing in all the times you mother-henned me." He watched Bucky for a moment and suddenly chuckled. "I remember I asked you once about what kind of family you pictured and you thought about and you turned to me and you said, "I bet for children I'll have girls." I asked you why and you immediately said, "Because Becca and Allison would kill me otherwise." Though that reasoning always changed. Never the girls though. You /swore/ you'd just have girls. Maybe a son, but you really wanted a girl. I don't know why that came to me just now."

"Well, I guess it's just because of the way I am? I wasn't /wrong/." Bucky motioned to the wall which was the general direction of the twins' apartment, "Even though the circumstances weren't the best, I think they're happy I have her. Nick certainly thinks she's the best."

((is2g you need to do an Angel/Nick? throw it to me in e-mail and I can slide it in somewhere after Bucky meets him so this isn't out of place))

Angel/Nick and Angel Steve for a bonus))

Steve turned fond, "I am too. She made a bad place bearable, as much as I hate to say that. You've always been a strong person, a family type of guy too. Angel was the best thing that's happened to you. Regardless of circumstances. Hydra at least didn't take that away from you." His grin softened, "Have you ever thought about tracking your nephews and great-nieces and nephews?"

"A-Actually..." Bucky's face flushed just a bit, "Nick helped me put faces to memories with the pictures he has. Rebecca and her husband William Proctor, Ali and him, the lot of us before I shipped out, my parents...and then he showed me his son Grant and Rebecca's kids, James and the twins Chelsey and Kelsey because apparently Becca was an ass." The oven beeped again and Bucky disappeared into the kitchen, turning the oven off and one of the burners on. Pulling the nuggets out and setting them on a side counter, he hummed a bit to himself while he filled and threw a pot of water on the stove.

((can't tell me Rebecca wouldn't have more than one, and it'd be funny if it was a history repeat of Buck and his sisters))

((Becca would have more than one. But James is Becca's kid. Ally's is Grant. Remember: Rebecca is closer to her brother and Ally was closer to Steve))

Steve cracked up, "Yeah the twins and the names. Becca would choose the rhyming scheme for the twins." He shook his head fondly. "I'm glad that you were able to figure that out. I haven't gotten a chance to meet the twins, they're always off on another continent. Got William's and Becca's need for adventure hard core. I think one of them is a freelance writer and the other is a photographer and they have a traveling business. I know Grant is doing something with a band and I think James is...god what is he doing nowadays? I don't even know..." He trailed off. "Man. It makes me wonder what Angelina's going to do when she gets to be in her twenties or thirties. What do you think she'll do? In a dream world." He amended. "Or real...whichever is more plausible to you."

"Photography, maybe? Travel places just to take pictures? She has been getting into her scrapbooking with Zan pretty hard now that she's gotten the hang of it." Buck offered willing the water to boil faster as he grabbed the box of mashed potatoes. He should've started the water before the nuggets were done but he had been wrapped up in the conversation. "Nicky told me that Rebecca would associate her three kids with me and them, when we were young."

((I suggest pushing back the girls until Oct so we can play with Steve being in the apt with them. River can be saved before her birthday, like the 20th and they get to the Tower on the 25th))

Okay))

"Yeah." Steve's smile gently faded, "I still can't believe that Allison passed away so quickly. With how long Nick's been around, I would've thought that Allison made it to be at least eighty...ninety even. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have trailed off that way. It's just shocking to me still."

"Yeah...he told me she died of pneumonia. Not...not everyone's so lucky. It wasn't uncommon back then. You got awful close a bunch of times..." Bucky sighed deeply, "She would've made an interesting grandma. She could be kind of terrifying, from what I do remember, all proper and prim, but she was kind too. Real kind. I'm sad she didn't get to see her son grow up. Maybe she did, from the other side, but still."

"Nick had her buried next to your grave," Steve said softly. "As close as you and Becca were, Beck's wanted to be with William after he died, but their plot is close by to your family's. I'm a bit farther away, I guess people thought I wanted to be with my mom and dad so..." He shrugged. "Peggy worked hard to get our graves there. They wanted us at Arlington. I think the Commandos got that same honor...or at least were offered it if they didn't take it. But Peggy and your family made sure that we were in Brooklyn."

"That must be...so weird, to see your own grave." Bucky shook his head from his area, measuring out the potatoes. He could eyeball the water for how many cups he needed, but the flakes were tricky. "I'm glad I'm here." He said after a moment, "I'm glad to have Angel, and you, and the twins, and Nick. You've all been substantial in my life and I don't know where I'd be had I not come back. Probably in some mediocre apartment overseas laying low and afraid. At least I can go to the damn grocery store now. It's been months since the incident and people's memories are akin to mine."

"I would've found you sooner or later." Steve assured, "and if you were too afraid to come home, then I would stay near you unless you thought it was better if I came to visit you less often." He laughed a little. "It is...weird to see your own grave. It makes you think and wonder. But you know...between you and me, I think that it's also a comfort to see it. Actually stand on it. I did die. A long time ago, and it's a fact they can't erase. I lived and died in the ninety-fourties and I unfroze in the two-thousands. This time, hopefully, I die an old man or something...something more concrete than ice."

"As much as I hate to say it, we're fighters and we'll no doubt die with our weapons in our hands. Or if we have our hands tied behind our backs, we'll be defiant until the end." Bucky hummed and stirred the potatoes after they were poured into the water and he moved burners, turning off the other one, "Come cut up the nuggest on a plate? Both ways, so when I mix it there's a bite of chicken in each spoonful." It felt...oddly natural to request Steve's assistance. Angelina was one thing, but Steve was always a different element and he was always shocked at the ease of it.

"You just want to tease me about how you can cut things better." Steve teased as he stood up and walked over to the counter where Bucky pointed at the chicken nuggets. He found a sharp knife and started cutting them. "Is that something you want to do? Be apart of the Avengers?"

"I've toyed with the idea, but...I'd need to be cleared first, and I don't want to deal with that quite yet. I want to be able to firmly stand my ground, not be a bumbling fool who can't answer questions properly." Buck sighed, "That's...another thing I wanted to warn you over. While not as frequent and not as debilitating or worth noting, I still get bad days. Probably always will. It's not like when James comes out. It's...I wake up and it's like I'm having an our-of-body experience. Days where I just...sit on the couch and write in my journal. Days where Angelina's gotta help me through the day. She doesn't think much of it, I think, just goes with the flow and it's no big deal for her."

"Does Angel have anything she needs for her bad days as well?" Steve asked, glancing over at Bucky. "Is there anything you need me to do when you have your bad days? Do you not like being touched? Do we just let you write in your journal till you can't, or do you need us to kind of nudge you and let you know when food's ready and stuff?"

"Angelina can touch me freely, so I don't see why you shouldn't be able to? I just...will probably look at you strangely. I won't talk. You can guide me and I'll eat and do basic routine things like shower, brush my teeth and all of that. I can't cook or even make tea on those days, though. I can pour myself milk or juice and that's the extent of my kitchen abilities." Bucky grabbed bowls and dished out equal portions of the potatoes, rinsed it and put it in dish washer, then grabbed the seasonings, "Garlic? Seasoning salt? Regular salt?" He asked, flicking some on his own and pulled the cheese from the fridge.

"Um, regular salt." Steve decided after a moment. "I'd choose garlic, but today's not that day. I'm feeling salty. Does Angelina have bad days that I need to worry about too?"

"She does. They're different. Much different and a lot more...heartbreaking. They terrify her, either way. Flashbacks are least likely, but happen once in a great while...it's maybe happened twice since we've escaped. She sees...something, anything, out of the corner of her eye or someone says anything and her /reaction/ is so much worse than if either of us had one. Flashbacks cause her to want to escape anyway she can. I gotta lock the doors, I tend to keep her in the bedroom with all her her personal things as comfort object. Just somehow make sure she doesn't get to the kitchen. I hate days like that. I have to control her as if I was one of them and James is the one who calms her down the easiest. Dylan tried to help the last time, and he had to leave because she thought he'd been captured."

Bucky finished throwing the nuggets and all the ingredients together and mixed it all together, finally handing him his finished bowl and they moved to the couch, "The other one...the most frequent, are the nightmares and voices. The apartment becomes one of the bases. The kitchen's a science room, the bathroom a cellar covered in blood rater than water. Things like that. The voices...from what I /understand/ they don't try to tell her to kill herself...outright anyway? They get her to hurt herself by hallucinations. One time I remember when we were in a hotel she was punching her own arm in her sleep. Other times during these episodes she hides in the closet with her hands over her ears."

Steve felt the color go out of his skin. He took the bowl mutely and followed him to the couch. He sat down heavily as Bucky finished what he was saying. He leaned back, his mind going around. He remembered how casually Angelina mentioned that she had been experimented on. He didn't know what they did to her, he didn't know what types of experiments they had used on her either. He took a bite of his food. The taste a little muddled from his thoughts. "What do you do when she hears the voices?" He asked hoarsely. It didn't seem like there was much that could be done when Angelina flash-backed besides to hope that James was out. "Besides let her hide? Unless that's all you can do?"

He wondered if it'd trigger her to see him when she had that type of bad day. Would she wonder if he got captured, or would she beg him to get her out of the apartment, and what should he do...if something like that were to happen?

Bucky pushed his food around, "Talk...ask what she sees, what she hears. Ask questions or talk about things that wouldn't fit with her mental narrative. For us, it ends up being a reverse of when I have a bad time with my flashbacks or my thoughts go south. I ramble for her, when she usually rambles for me. Anything works, really. She doesn't want to leave on those days, opposite of the Flashback days. There's usually just too much noise going on so doing what we can to distract her is best. Flashbacks she doesn't want to be touched or coddled, but episodes her favorite comfort item is the comforter. It's heavy, and grounding. That's what she needs, just to be grounded to reality. Wintertime I'm going to get her a heavier fuzzy blanket."

Steve nodded. "So let her do her thing when you flashback and when she has her moments, do what we can. That makes sense." He would take his cue from Angelina when Bucky's time hit, and visa versa when Angelina's moment arrives. He took another bite of food. "Thank you. For telling me. I just...I don't want to do anything that'd hurt you guys when you get like that. I don't want to hurt you for you two to hurt me, so I just wanted to know. I'm sorry that I asked the hard things...I know that I probably should've waited till after dinner or something...my sense of timing was always horrible."