(Yelena was Snapped. When it happened, she was eating a tuna sandwich, watching cartoons. The next thing she knew, she was back. A few hours after panicking and watching the news-- barricading the door, she gets a call from Nat.
.
So that happened. Then she gets another call from Nat-- months later, that's just how they operate. Come see the Avengers, she beckons. It's New Years Eve, let's celebrate being alive.
Immediately, she has eyes for Bucky. Natasha makes a face and pulls her away from the direction of Sam and his attractive partner in crime. "You don't want that one."
.
They'd been texting for a little while, more than Yelena had ever had a conversation with someone like this-- besides Natasha, late nights when everyone else was partying. She was gossiping. Sometimes she'd make an offcolor joke just to see how he reacts. They've hung out with Sam's family during the Fourth of July, and now it's a crispy September night. After batting him around a bit, finally, she sends a text.)
( This particular text, when it comes, is a surprise.
Bucky doesn't date — one disastrous attempt with the bartender had pretty much cured him of that, shuttling him back into a lonely bachelorhood which is, if not content, at least complacent. Resigned. He's got his burgeoning family with the Avengers, which is helping fix that ragged void in his life from when Steve left. There's Sam and Nat, dragging him out of his shell. There's barbecues and cookouts with the remaining survivors of the team, and as time goes on, slowly feeling a little less alone.
There's Yelena.
He hesitates over his reply. They've only really seen each other in groups, which is exactly why this invitation stands out: it's usually casual conversations at the edge of a party, seeing if he can make her nose scrunch into a laugh, feeling strangely pleased with himself whenever he can. Their one-on-one conversations have been via these texts lighting up his phone; not really meeting up in person. )
(She's being ironic okay? Natasha gave her the rundown eventually, after Yelena threatened to hack into the Avengers' network. Bucky was frozen like Cap. Was brainwashed. Was used.
Except for the first part? She craved. Someone like her. Someone who understood-- someone besides her fake sister. It helped that Bucky was particularly handsome.
Even if a few days ago, she did a little Google-Fu on "The Winter Soldier." She's done terrible things, too. It made her wonder what he was like under this mask. This shield.)
( His first text comes in Russian; a language he never dusts off with his friends except with Natasha and, now, with Yelena. It's an instinctive concession, an olive branch, an attempt to make her feel more at home: )
i would not say no. i'd love to.
( Then, back to English: )
i just gotta warn you that i'm pretty, uh, rusty when it comes to this sort of thing. couldn't even tell you the last time i took someone out for dinner
( But Yelena is pretty, and sharp-tongued, and funny, and has a bloodied history more than a little similar to his, and so he'd be lying if he said the thought hadn't crossed his mind ever since he'd spotted her at that new year's eve party. )
(She's grinning stupidly in the dim light, her phone illuminating her face. The Russian is endearing to her, even if it's a bad memory. It's fun to show off scars, isn't it?)
Bucky boy this will be my first date, no pressure. Meet me at the subway, under the graffitied sign heading Southbound to Queens, you know the one? the sign that says BUTTS?
(And then she's up, scrambling to find clothes that say casual yet sexy. I didn't try but it looks like I did, that kind of thing to say. She has some of Natasha's stuff, but chooses to wear a simple black tank top and her tactical vest. Always looks good.
Then she's under the BUTTS sign. She doesn't smoke, doesn't have earbuds in. Everything is raw and loud and new and she's going on a date with Bucky.)
first date vs first date in 80 years. looks like we'll be pretty well-matched
( His own rush to figure out what to wear goes a little easier. He doesn't own that many clothes, and they're predictably uniform: skinny jeans, black t-shirt, a leather jacket, even though his serum-enhanced blood runs hot enough that he doesn't really get that cold, and so he heads out to the address she'd specified. Bucky grew up in this city, knew it deep in his bones, and yet New York is so different these days: all metal and glass skyscrapers, concrete, neon.
The subway remains a familiar mainstay, though, and so he approaches the entrance in question, finds the blonde waiting beneath it.
His nerves are humming beneath his skin, palpable in his tight shoulders and quick steps as he walks towards her. He flashes a smile in greeting; suddenly unsure how greetings work, what's socially appropriate, what he's supposed to do in this situation. So he just settles for: )
Hey.
( A glance at her combat vest; a half-smile twitches in the corner of his mouth. )
(She tucks a hair behind her ear and her hands into her pockets (two of many). When he looks at her vest in what could only be described as mockingly (to her, at least!) She immediately goes into protest mode.)
What! No! It looks good! And look, look at this. (Yelena gestures for him to get closer. She pulls from her pocket a small baggie of fruit snacks.)
See, it keeps on giving, (In that accent that was getting less and less Russian as the day passes, but her voice was still small an innocent sounding, even when she was sarcastic and mean. Which isn't now-- she's smiling at him. She even holds the fruit snacks out to him.)
In case the super soldier gets hungry before we get to the best Chinese place in town!
I'm always hungry. Side-effect of being a super-soldier.
( God's honest truth: it was one of the many unexpected repercussions of that superserum, i.e. a ravenous metabolism. So he reaches out and accepts some of the snacks, tossing them into his mouth and chewing. He hadn't intended to sound mocking, but her affront and demonstration helps loosen up some of the tension, make this playful again. Like it's just the two of them, joking around like they've been doing for a while. )
Best Chinese place in town? That's gonna be a high bar to clear; I've spent a lot of time in Chinatown. ( then, because he doesn't want to sound like an entire accidental asshole: ) I'm looking forward to it, though. Where we headed?
(She couldn't help but drop her brain into the gutter. If he was always hungry, he was probably hard to put down. Her lips curl like the Grinch for a moment, a mischievous smile plays on her lips.)
See, that was the trick. I was going to say the name of a place, but since you're actually from here you'd be able to tell me that there's better places than Panda Express.
(She nudges him with her shoulder. She puts her weight into it, because she's so much shorter than him. It makes her swoon a little bit, but not enough to lose her damn mind.)
If you take me to Panda Express for our very first date, I'm eating an actual mountain of lo mein because food is food, but I'm also judging you forever. ( She bumps into his shoulder and he teasingly elbows her back, and— maybe this isn't actually so different from their text conversations, or from stealing a few minutes to talk to each other whenever the Avengers got together at a group outing. It helps that Yelena is so casual and at ease with herself, in perfect proportion to how high-strung Bucky can be. Maybe this doesn't have to be a big deal. )
(She grins wildly and leans into him for a second before grabbing his (flesh and blood) arm and dragging him along. Her other hand tucks the fruit snacks back into one of her many pouches.
She heads up the stairs from the subway and Vanna White-style gestures at a small building in a strip of stores. It's neon sign says open and above that it just says CHINESE FOOD.)
Do you know this place? It's okay if you don't, it's pretty elite.
( Bucky tilts his head backwards, craning and looking up at the sign; confusion and perplexment sweeps across his face before he finally shakes his head, incredulous and amused, and sneaks a delighted glance over at her. )
Wait, is it literally just called 'Chinese Food'?
( Bizarre but also, the more he thinks about it, entirely plausible. )
Okay. You got me, I've never been here before. But I've been learning that some of the best restaurants really are just named for what they are. One of my favourite hole-in-the-walls is just called Real Kung Fu Little Steamed Buns Ramen.
(Yelena shrugs at the question. She all but cackles and repeats him,) Little steamed buns heh heh-- (as she swung open the door. There's a booth near the back and Yelena takes the seat against the wall. She preferred to be able to see exits. It occurs to her Bucky might feel the same way.)
Is this okay?
(His hair looks good short. She hadn't seen him have in short in a long time. They didn't take good care of him in the program. Not as well as they treated the girls. --If you can even say that.
All the times they talked, he never brought up remembering her. He doesn't remember a lot. She knows she'd hate to be told she knew someone she didn't know. It was alienating enough to be a lost soul like Bucky-- she didn't want to make him more uncomfortable.)
( She'd been leading the way, so before he's able to take a seat, Yelena's scoped out the exact table and exact spot he would've taken himself: towards the corner, by the wall, with a clear view of the exits. He half-smiles again — he's not gonna oust her from her seat, c'mon — but he does say, )
Great minds. Hopefully this isn't weird,
( and then he just slides into the booth seat beside her, rather than across from her. It means he has to look sideways to meet Yelena's eye and they're closer than usual, but on the other hand— it means they're closer than usual. Where the nudge of an elbow or a shoulder is easy enough to do, and where Bucky's shoulderblades won't be prickling and crawling with the paranoia of not being able to see the exit.
Given more time, he's pretty sure he'd trust her to have his back — Nat trusts her, after all. But old habits die hard. He's spent years looking over his shoulder. Decades. )
(Yelena's eyes go wide with amusement as he sits beside her. She's had to pretend to get close to men before, they never sat next to her, though. It's kind of nice. She looks at him with a little crooked smile.)
Yeaaaaah. I live just down the street. I normally wouldn't announce that, but I think I trust you. (she winks, to punctuate the sentence.)
So you're from New York, aren't you? Brooklyn?
(Okay, Yelena, now wasn't the time to show off all the stuff you learned about Bucky while doing research. He never spoke when they trained, but she could tell he would take it easy on her. Because she was small. Soon, he realized he couldn't take it easy on her, lest be injured.)
( Chin propped into his gloved hand, he's angled himself sideways in order to look at Yelena more carefully, sizing her up with that question. Brooklyn, she asked, all innocence and fishing for information, and Bucky looks a little bemused at that pretended ignorance.
(And he doesn't recognise her. No light of self-conscious recognition when he looks at her; there have been so many years, such a revolving door of identical widows, anonymous Russian girls filed down and pushed through that brutal training. As far as he knows, new year's eve was the first time they've ever met.) )
You're a spy. So I bet you've already done your homework, or at least read up on my Smithsonian exhibit.
( He doesn't say it like he's bragging; it still feels absolutely fucking insane that both he and Steve are in the Smithsonian. )
I grew up in Brooklyn, yeah. Although that was a hundred years ago, so... things have really changed since then.
Yes! I have! (The waitress comes by to drop off waters for them, and then gives them a little more time to talk, ducking away. Yelena toys with the paper from the straw.) Natasha took me. After she said, "Stay away from that one."
(She finishes up her sentence with a wry smile, a slightly deeper voice for Nat's. She and Nat hadn't discussed Bucky more than that. Stay away from him, he's in the Smithsonian. Nothing about him training them. Maybe that part was just too normal. The part that wasn't, was his age. Nat trying to protect Yelena from someone who was from another time and not want to put up with her childish behavior. She spent time with Steve and knew these boys were dramatic as all get out. Yelena would show who is the more dramatic one in the end.)
Is there a shop or anything you miss the most? Did they have candy for a dime?
(She holds the straw wrapper between her top lip and her nose, demonstrating her ability to be the Most childish.)
( Bucky watches her antics with the straw, a small and faded smile on his face which he can't bite back. She's cute. Really damn cute, actually, which is gonna be dangerous if they keep walking down this path. )
Hell, less than that. Hershey's cost like five cents. A package of Oreos would be a dime, though. So... I guess all of that candy still exists today and I'm not missing out. So it's mainly—
( He pauses, trying and failing to pin the right words to explain what he misses most. It's something undefinable. )
I dunno, just a certain feeling. It's a different city today, so it's like the one I knew is gone. New York was smaller. Everything was smaller back then. It's easier to get lost in a crowd now. Which I like sometimes, but not all the time.
( He's not the best at baring his heart, so after a moment, he angles for dragging the topic sideways: )
Why'd she say to stay away from me? Do I smell?
( He's joking, but there's still that faint twinge in the back of his head, a warning, that quietly self-hating knowledge that people probably should steer clear if they know what's best for them. Damaged goods. )
(Yelena watches him reminisce, dropping the straw wrapper and smiling at him.)
You can never go back home again, they say, don't they?
(At his question, she holds up one finger and takes a long drink of water from her straw. Then she tilts in her seat a little to tell him.)
It's embarrassing... (It's kind of a whine, like, oh man, don't make me do this!) She thought that a girl from the Red Room and the Winter Soldier would be too volatile. That'd I'd fall in love if I hadn't already.
( Bucky goes quiet and motionless at that revelation, head tilted as he tries to follow that train of thought. Something in his chest jolts, misses a beat. )
I thought Black Widows didn't fall for anyone. Especially for Winter Soldiers.
( From all he'd gathered and remembered from those dark days, the widows turned off that part of themselves; almost surgically excising themselves from their feelings, like what had been done to the Winter Soldier. He had been a living weapon, a living gun, a piece of walking metal. Shrapnel in a human body. The Red Room had never allowed anyone the luxury of emotion. )
( He's still watching Yelena, and it's like watching a wild animal pacing restless circles, its tail lashing as she winds around the topic. He's about to open his mouth, say something, he's not entirely sure what— but just then, the waitress comes back to take their order. Startled, it takes Bucky a second before he marshals his thoughts together. Slams the brakes on the conversation just for a moment.
They each put in their family-style orders for the table, and for his part, he orders heaps. Soup dumplings, pork dumplings, lemon chicken, beef and broccoli, scallion pancakes, the aforementioned lo mein. )
Growing boy, ( he says lightly, a nod to what he'd said earlier about his metabolism. And then, as soon as the waitress is safely out of earshot, he picks up the thread as if they never dropped it: )
You have the rest of your life to figure that out, though. The things you like. ( The corner of his mouth flickers in a smile. ) The knife-fighting moves you like.
(Yelena ordered herself some potstickers and Crab Rangoon, knowing full well she will pick off Bucky's plate(s) when she gets a chance.)
Growing boy! (She exclaims it happily, in that thick accent of hers. She even slaps the table.) I'm so sure.
(The rest of her life? She doesn't like to think about that, she figured she'd be dead by this age.)
I see you almost smiling, Bucky Barnes. (she holds up a finger and wiggles it like REDRUM REDRUM, only slightly accusatory.) You like say things that almost sound like "Well, when you're older, you'll understand." (For that part, she deepened her voice even lower, in an attempt to imitate some sort of man's voice...) I know what I like now, I think. Maybe.
Edited (aha i totally said the opposite of what she said last tag, sorry it's so crustyold) 2022-02-19 10:47 (UTC)
Okay, in my defense, I am old. People would tease Steve about it too, but the guy was fully on ice for like, seventy years. Me, I actually lived through most of those decades. ... Mostly.
( He keeps his voice light. Humour as a defense mechanism was a familiar instinct for both of them, and it was one thing about him that hadn't changed with time. And a trait which had come back quickest, once he'd started piecing together the tattered shreds of who he'd been, lining up the edges and trying to reassemble a person out of it. )
So what do you like, Yelena Belova?
( Her full name in return, tit for tat. He rolls the syllables the Russian way and it doesn't sound mocking, just fluent. )
Lived, mostly? The way I lived? (she busies herself with the silverware, not looking him in the eye. She knows his story. He had it worse than her, but the Red Room and Hydra were good friends. She has also heard her therapist claim that pain is pain, people take it differently. No one suffers more, do they? It makes her crinkle her nose, along with his question.)
I like your hair. And your accent, it reminds me ... (she trails off, without even realizing it. Girls from all over the world, different skin, different builds. All speaking Russian for Dreykov.)
I like Spongebob. Have you seen him? He lives in a pineapple under the sea.
Okay, not exactly the way you lived. There were more stops-and-starts. But in other ways— yeah.
( That conditioning baked into both their bones, the obedience hammered into their marrow until they physically couldn't say no. Bucky's mouth twists. This wasn't exactly what he'd wanted for their first date; he didn't want to see that sunny expression vanish from Yelena's face. At some point, the waitress had swung back unprompted and dropped some hot, dark tea on their table while they wait for their food. Bucky reaches for it thoughtlessly with the left gloved hand. It's a useful workaround; he never burns himself on hot cups anymore. And he seizes her topic shift like it's a lifeline. )
I haven't seen him yet. Should I add it to the list? How the hell do you live in a pineapple?
( And like an avid student of pop culture studiously taking notes, he actually reaches into his jacket inner pocket to take out the notebook and scribble in it with a question mark: Spongebob (?) )
(She wants to pry. It is Yelena's way. But he seems to like the Spongebob bit, and she can also read people well enough to know that he doesn't want her to pry. But ... that makes it more appealing.
The notebook is pulled out and she leans over the table-- she's small, so she doesn't go far. Her hair isn't pulled back for once, she's let is grow and go wild since she's become "freed." It curtains around her face as she peers at his little note.)
Yes. He is a sponge, as you might have guessed, and he works as a--- uh, what do you-- a fry cook! And there is a octopus that is very grumpy, and a crab that loves money. I want to kick his ass, I think that's normal, though? (She looks at him a little too long.) What else is in there?
You know this barely makes any sense, right? Is it a cartoon or are people in, like, crab suits? And the book's got tons.
( Bucky is deeply precious about particular parts of the notebook — a certain list of names towards the back — but the front is the pop culture list, and he definitely doesn't mind Yelena seeing that. So he spins the book around and slides it a little closer so she can read more easily.
The opposite page started off in someone else's handwriting; Steve's, evidently, noting: Star Wars / Trek, Nirvana (Band), Rocky (Rocky II?)
But then it took over in Bucky's own cribbed script:
N. Romanoff: The Godfather, Indiana Jones, Sunset Boulevard, Lord of the Rings
S. Wilson: Mad Max, Men in Black
W. Maximoff: Jurassic Park
It was as much a map of his friendships as it was a map of pop culture, the gaps he was missing. )
oh dang i forgot they were sitting next to each other, whoopsie it's been awhile.
(Yelena looked curiously, having only see Star Wars, and the handful of films that came out after her brain got on straight.)
Hm. I haven't seen a movie in the theater before.
(They both missed large chunks of their lives, Bucky had been Bucky before he was the Winter Soldier. Yelena was a small, excitable girl who was broken down to nothing for most of her life.
Her green eyes fixed on his, and she just stared for a moment.)
lmao whoops i forgot too!! my slow ass making things difficult
No movies in the theaters, ever? Like not even while undercover or something? ( That surprised him. ) Damn. I mean, I at least got to see them back in the '20s and '30s. Well. I guess that means I'm taking you to a movie one of these days, although I bet they cost more than a quarter now.
( He was looking down at the notebook at first, but he can sense the weight of her gaze on him, so he glances up and meets her eye. Sam had always teased Bucky about his too-long stares, but Yelena is one of the few who seems like she can rival him with it: her sharp, assessing look, like he's a puzzle she wants to pry open and unravel. It's strange being on the receiving end of it for once. He swallows, clears his throat; on the verge of saying something else, but—
but the waitress finally returns, and deposits plateful after plateful of food on their table, setting out the dishes in front of them. Jarred out of his thoughts, Bucky reaches for his pair of chopsticks. )
(Yelena is broken away as well, which disappoints her (he was going to say something, what was he going to say?) until she sees the food. She's delighted. She even claps a few times.)
I'm going to eat alllll of this, don't think I won't.
(Between bites and struggling with chopsticks, she hops back into conversation.)
Even if we were allowed to do things like that, I wouldn't remember them much. (She scrunched up her nose and pointed at him with a chopstick.) And I hardly went overcover. That was Natasha's thing. I just was pointed, like a gun.
( This probably isn't the right conversation for when he's digging into a plateful of noodles and soup dumplings — a normal date should mean talking about movies or books or something, right? — but they're not normal people, so perhaps their conversations were never going to be normal. And this is one of the very few people on this earth who went through something similar as him, so he finds himself asking anyway. )
Do you... remember? ( Bucky points his own chipsticks back at her in return, gesturing to her skull. ) All the time when you were under. Still under their control. You don't have memories of it?
No, not really. I have some vague memories, I think, when I was four or five. When I was six they took us away. I think when I turned 10, it's just a big... nothing.
(She speaks so casually about it, but even hearing herself speak in a Russian accent when she was possibly not even Russian. Yelena was always more emotional, that's why they never had her go undercover. Too mad, too desperate, too much of something.)
It's just a big jump. It's like I was living it, but I was in the backseat. Car, like a head? (She motions around her head, being silly to hopefully not sound so damn depressing.)
( It’s probably a small favour, this: Bucky’s expression is so carefully blank, so dead-eyed, that he doesn’t radiate a sad pitying look upon hearing her story. They’ve both got shitty stories. He doesn’t know how Yelena feels about it, but he hates that flicker of sympathetic pain he always sees on other people’s faces whenever the Winter Soldier comes up, whenever they’re trying to tell him placating reassurances like it’s okay or it wasn’t your fault. So instead of all that, he just nods soberly. )
That’s shitty. I think I’d hate that. Being in the backseat.
I remember everything, of mine. More like the passenger seat, seeing it all through the windshield but not holding the steering wheel. I don’t actually know if that’s better or worse– but I don’t know, I think I’d rather know than not know. I’d always be wondering.
( Somewhere in the back of his mind is a small voice yelling at him for this. Buck, this is why you shouldn’t date, you’re just gonna depress the girl by reminding her of her how much her past sucks, goddamn—
But maybe — hopefully — she appreciates the honesty between them both. )
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littlesestra) wrote2021-09-26 03:35 pm
no subject
.
So that happened. Then she gets another call from Nat-- months later, that's just how they operate. Come see the Avengers, she beckons. It's New Years Eve, let's celebrate being alive.
Immediately, she has eyes for Bucky. Natasha makes a face and pulls her away from the direction of Sam and his attractive partner in crime. "You don't want that one."
.
They'd been texting for a little while, more than Yelena had ever had a conversation with someone like this-- besides Natasha, late nights when everyone else was partying. She was gossiping. Sometimes she'd make an offcolor joke just to see how he reacts. They've hung out with Sam's family during the Fourth of July, and now it's a crispy September night. After batting him around a bit, finally, she sends a text.)
do you want to have dinner? just us?
no subject
Bucky doesn't date — one disastrous attempt with the bartender had pretty much cured him of that, shuttling him back into a lonely bachelorhood which is, if not content, at least complacent. Resigned. He's got his burgeoning family with the Avengers, which is helping fix that ragged void in his life from when Steve left. There's Sam and Nat, dragging him out of his shell. There's barbecues and cookouts with the remaining survivors of the team, and as time goes on, slowly feeling a little less alone.
There's Yelena.
He hesitates over his reply. They've only really seen each other in groups, which is exactly why this invitation stands out: it's usually casual conversations at the edge of a party, seeing if he can make her nose scrunch into a laugh, feeling strangely pleased with himself whenever he can. Their one-on-one conversations have been via these texts lighting up his phone; not really meeting up in person. )
dinner? like a date?
( He has to double-check. )
no subject
(She's being ironic okay? Natasha gave her the rundown eventually, after Yelena threatened to hack into the Avengers' network. Bucky was frozen like Cap. Was brainwashed. Was used.
Except for the first part? She craved. Someone like her. Someone who understood-- someone besides her fake sister. It helped that Bucky was particularly handsome.
Even if a few days ago, she did a little Google-Fu on "The Winter Soldier." She's done terrible things, too. It made her wonder what he was like under this mask. This shield.)
you can say no
no subject
i would not say no. i'd love to.
( Then, back to English: )
i just gotta warn you that i'm pretty, uh, rusty when it comes to this sort of thing.
couldn't even tell you the last time i took someone out for dinner
( But Yelena is pretty, and sharp-tongued, and funny, and has a bloodied history more than a little similar to his, and so he'd be lying if he said the thought hadn't crossed his mind ever since he'd spotted her at that new year's eve party. )
no subject
Bucky boy this will be my first date, no pressure. Meet me at the subway, under the graffitied sign heading Southbound to Queens, you know the one? the sign that says BUTTS?
(And then she's up, scrambling to find clothes that say casual yet sexy. I didn't try but it looks like I did, that kind of thing to say. She has some of Natasha's stuff, but chooses to wear a simple black tank top and her tactical vest. Always looks good.
Then she's under the BUTTS sign. She doesn't smoke, doesn't have earbuds in. Everything is raw and loud and new and she's going on a date with Bucky.)
no subject
( His own rush to figure out what to wear goes a little easier. He doesn't own that many clothes, and they're predictably uniform: skinny jeans, black t-shirt, a leather jacket, even though his serum-enhanced blood runs hot enough that he doesn't really get that cold, and so he heads out to the address she'd specified. Bucky grew up in this city, knew it deep in his bones, and yet New York is so different these days: all metal and glass skyscrapers, concrete, neon.
The subway remains a familiar mainstay, though, and so he approaches the entrance in question, finds the blonde waiting beneath it.
His nerves are humming beneath his skin, palpable in his tight shoulders and quick steps as he walks towards her. He flashes a smile in greeting; suddenly unsure how greetings work, what's socially appropriate, what he's supposed to do in this situation. So he just settles for: )
Hey.
( A glance at her combat vest; a half-smile twitches in the corner of his mouth. )
Expecting trouble?
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(She tucks a hair behind her ear and her hands into her pockets (two of many). When he looks at her vest in what could only be described as mockingly (to her, at least!) She immediately goes into protest mode.)
What! No! It looks good! And look, look at this. (Yelena gestures for him to get closer. She pulls from her pocket a small baggie of fruit snacks.)
See, it keeps on giving, (In that accent that was getting less and less Russian as the day passes, but her voice was still small an innocent sounding, even when she was sarcastic and mean. Which isn't now-- she's smiling at him. She even holds the fruit snacks out to him.)
In case the super soldier gets hungry before we get to the best Chinese place in town!
no subject
( God's honest truth: it was one of the many unexpected repercussions of that superserum, i.e. a ravenous metabolism. So he reaches out and accepts some of the snacks, tossing them into his mouth and chewing. He hadn't intended to sound mocking, but her affront and demonstration helps loosen up some of the tension, make this playful again. Like it's just the two of them, joking around like they've been doing for a while. )
Best Chinese place in town? That's gonna be a high bar to clear; I've spent a lot of time in Chinatown. ( then, because he doesn't want to sound like an entire accidental asshole: ) I'm looking forward to it, though. Where we headed?
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See, that was the trick. I was going to say the name of a place, but since you're actually from here you'd be able to tell me that there's better places than Panda Express.
(She nudges him with her shoulder. She puts her weight into it, because she's so much shorter than him. It makes her swoon a little bit, but not enough to lose her damn mind.)
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Alright, keep it a surprise — and lead the way.
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She heads up the stairs from the subway and Vanna White-style gestures at a small building in a strip of stores. It's neon sign says open and above that it just says CHINESE FOOD.)
Do you know this place? It's okay if you don't, it's pretty elite.
(She's dry, but she's joking.)
no subject
Wait, is it literally just called 'Chinese Food'?
( Bizarre but also, the more he thinks about it, entirely plausible. )
Okay. You got me, I've never been here before. But I've been learning that some of the best restaurants really are just named for what they are. One of my favourite hole-in-the-walls is just called Real Kung Fu Little Steamed Buns Ramen.
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Is this okay?
(His hair looks good short. She hadn't seen him have in short in a long time. They didn't take good care of him in the program. Not as well as they treated the girls. --If you can even say that.
All the times they talked, he never brought up remembering her. He doesn't remember a lot. She knows she'd hate to be told she knew someone she didn't know. It was alienating enough to be a lost soul like Bucky-- she didn't want to make him more uncomfortable.)
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Great minds. Hopefully this isn't weird,
( and then he just slides into the booth seat beside her, rather than across from her. It means he has to look sideways to meet Yelena's eye and they're closer than usual, but on the other hand— it means they're closer than usual. Where the nudge of an elbow or a shoulder is easy enough to do, and where Bucky's shoulderblades won't be prickling and crawling with the paranoia of not being able to see the exit.
Given more time, he's pretty sure he'd trust her to have his back — Nat trusts her, after all. But old habits die hard. He's spent years looking over his shoulder. Decades. )
You come here often?
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Yeaaaaah. I live just down the street. I normally wouldn't announce that, but I think I trust you. (she winks, to punctuate the sentence.)
So you're from New York, aren't you? Brooklyn?
(Okay, Yelena, now wasn't the time to show off all the stuff you learned about Bucky while doing research. He never spoke when they trained, but she could tell he would take it easy on her. Because she was small. Soon, he realized he couldn't take it easy on her, lest be injured.)
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(And he doesn't recognise her. No light of self-conscious recognition when he looks at her; there have been so many years, such a revolving door of identical widows, anonymous Russian girls filed down and pushed through that brutal training. As far as he knows, new year's eve was the first time they've ever met.) )
You're a spy. So I bet you've already done your homework, or at least read up on my Smithsonian exhibit.
( He doesn't say it like he's bragging; it still feels absolutely fucking insane that both he and Steve are in the Smithsonian. )
I grew up in Brooklyn, yeah. Although that was a hundred years ago, so... things have really changed since then.
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(She finishes up her sentence with a wry smile, a slightly deeper voice for Nat's. She and Nat hadn't discussed Bucky more than that. Stay away from him, he's in the Smithsonian. Nothing about him training them. Maybe that part was just too normal. The part that wasn't, was his age. Nat trying to protect Yelena from someone who was from another time and not want to put up with her childish behavior. She spent time with Steve and knew these boys were dramatic as all get out. Yelena would show who is the more dramatic one in the end.)
Is there a shop or anything you miss the most? Did they have candy for a dime?
(She holds the straw wrapper between her top lip and her nose, demonstrating her ability to be the Most childish.)
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Hell, less than that. Hershey's cost like five cents. A package of Oreos would be a dime, though. So... I guess all of that candy still exists today and I'm not missing out. So it's mainly—
( He pauses, trying and failing to pin the right words to explain what he misses most. It's something undefinable. )
I dunno, just a certain feeling. It's a different city today, so it's like the one I knew is gone. New York was smaller. Everything was smaller back then. It's easier to get lost in a crowd now. Which I like sometimes, but not all the time.
( He's not the best at baring his heart, so after a moment, he angles for dragging the topic sideways: )
Why'd she say to stay away from me? Do I smell?
( He's joking, but there's still that faint twinge in the back of his head, a warning, that quietly self-hating knowledge that people probably should steer clear if they know what's best for them. Damaged goods. )
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You can never go back home again, they say, don't they?
(At his question, she holds up one finger and takes a long drink of water from her straw. Then she tilts in her seat a little to tell him.)
It's embarrassing... (It's kind of a whine, like, oh man, don't make me do this!) She thought that a girl from the Red Room and the Winter Soldier would be too volatile. That'd I'd fall in love if I hadn't already.
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I thought Black Widows didn't fall for anyone. Especially for Winter Soldiers.
( From all he'd gathered and remembered from those dark days, the widows turned off that part of themselves; almost surgically excising themselves from their feelings, like what had been done to the Winter Soldier. He had been a living weapon, a living gun, a piece of walking metal. Shrapnel in a human body. The Red Room had never allowed anyone the luxury of emotion. )
You don't know yet. I might be terrible company.
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(She twirls her finger around the straw, letting the ice bob up and down. She feels tongue-tied and star struck.)
Do you know that move, when you're pinned and your knife is just within reach if you drop it to the hand below-- I love that move.
(She's trying to dodge around the subject, to slowly let it drown itself as she only mentions it again for a moment.)
Maybe it would be me who's no fun. I've been a Black Widow most of my life. I don't even know what sort of things I like.
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They each put in their family-style orders for the table, and for his part, he orders heaps. Soup dumplings, pork dumplings, lemon chicken, beef and broccoli, scallion pancakes, the aforementioned lo mein. )
Growing boy, ( he says lightly, a nod to what he'd said earlier about his metabolism. And then, as soon as the waitress is safely out of earshot, he picks up the thread as if they never dropped it: )
You have the rest of your life to figure that out, though. The things you like. ( The corner of his mouth flickers in a smile. ) The knife-fighting moves you like.
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Growing boy! (She exclaims it happily, in that thick accent of hers. She even slaps the table.) I'm so sure.
(The rest of her life? She doesn't like to think about that, she figured she'd be dead by this age.)
I see you almost smiling, Bucky Barnes. (she holds up a finger and wiggles it like REDRUM REDRUM, only slightly accusatory.) You like say things that almost sound like "Well, when you're older, you'll understand." (For that part, she deepened her voice even lower, in an attempt to imitate some sort of man's voice...) I know what I like now, I think. Maybe.
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( He keeps his voice light. Humour as a defense mechanism was a familiar instinct for both of them, and it was one thing about him that hadn't changed with time. And a trait which had come back quickest, once he'd started piecing together the tattered shreds of who he'd been, lining up the edges and trying to reassemble a person out of it. )
So what do you like, Yelena Belova?
( Her full name in return, tit for tat. He rolls the syllables the Russian way and it doesn't sound mocking, just fluent. )
feelin' myself tonight
I like your hair. And your accent, it reminds me ... (she trails off, without even realizing it. Girls from all over the world, different skin, different builds. All speaking Russian for Dreykov.)
I like Spongebob. Have you seen him? He lives in a pineapple under the sea.
💖
( That conditioning baked into both their bones, the obedience hammered into their marrow until they physically couldn't say no. Bucky's mouth twists. This wasn't exactly what he'd wanted for their first date; he didn't want to see that sunny expression vanish from Yelena's face. At some point, the waitress had swung back unprompted and dropped some hot, dark tea on their table while they wait for their food. Bucky reaches for it thoughtlessly with the left gloved hand. It's a useful workaround; he never burns himself on hot cups anymore. And he seizes her topic shift like it's a lifeline. )
I haven't seen him yet. Should I add it to the list? How the hell do you live in a pineapple?
( And like an avid student of pop culture studiously taking notes, he actually reaches into his jacket inner pocket to take out the notebook and scribble in it with a question mark: Spongebob (?) )
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The notebook is pulled out and she leans over the table-- she's small, so she doesn't go far. Her hair isn't pulled back for once, she's let is grow and go wild since she's become "freed." It curtains around her face as she peers at his little note.)
Yes. He is a sponge, as you might have guessed, and he works as a--- uh, what do you-- a fry cook! And there is a octopus that is very grumpy, and a crab that loves money. I want to kick his ass, I think that's normal, though? (She looks at him a little too long.) What else is in there?
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( Bucky is deeply precious about particular parts of the notebook — a certain list of names towards the back — but the front is the pop culture list, and he definitely doesn't mind Yelena seeing that. So he spins the book around and slides it a little closer so she can read more easily.
The opposite page started off in someone else's handwriting; Steve's, evidently, noting: Star Wars / Trek, Nirvana (Band), Rocky (Rocky II?)
But then it took over in Bucky's own cribbed script:
It was as much a map of his friendships as it was a map of pop culture, the gaps he was missing. )
oh dang i forgot they were sitting next to each other, whoopsie it's been awhile.
Hm. I haven't seen a movie in the theater before.
(They both missed large chunks of their lives, Bucky had been Bucky before he was the Winter Soldier. Yelena was a small, excitable girl who was broken down to nothing for most of her life.
Her green eyes fixed on his, and she just stared for a moment.)
lmao whoops i forgot too!! my slow ass making things difficult
( He was looking down at the notebook at first, but he can sense the weight of her gaze on him, so he glances up and meets her eye. Sam had always teased Bucky about his too-long stares, but Yelena is one of the few who seems like she can rival him with it: her sharp, assessing look, like he's a puzzle she wants to pry open and unravel. It's strange being on the receiving end of it for once. He swallows, clears his throat; on the verge of saying something else, but—
but the waitress finally returns, and deposits plateful after plateful of food on their table, setting out the dishes in front of them. Jarred out of his thoughts, Bucky reaches for his pair of chopsticks. )
slow 2gether
I'm going to eat alllll of this, don't think I won't.
(Between bites and struggling with chopsticks, she hops back into conversation.)
Even if we were allowed to do things like that, I wouldn't remember them much. (She scrunched up her nose and pointed at him with a chopstick.) And I hardly went overcover. That was Natasha's thing. I just was pointed, like a gun.
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Do you... remember? ( Bucky points his own chipsticks back at her in return, gesturing to her skull. ) All the time when you were under. Still under their control. You don't have memories of it?
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(She speaks so casually about it, but even hearing herself speak in a Russian accent when she was possibly not even Russian. Yelena was always more emotional, that's why they never had her go undercover. Too mad, too desperate, too much of something.)
It's just a big jump. It's like I was living it, but I was in the backseat. Car, like a head? (She motions around her head, being silly to hopefully not sound so damn depressing.)
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That’s shitty. I think I’d hate that. Being in the backseat.
I remember everything, of mine. More like the passenger seat, seeing it all through the windshield but not holding the steering wheel. I don’t actually know if that’s better or worse– but I don’t know, I think I’d rather know than not know. I’d always be wondering.
( Somewhere in the back of his mind is a small voice yelling at him for this. Buck, this is why you shouldn’t date, you’re just gonna depress the girl by reminding her of her how much her past sucks, goddamn—
But maybe — hopefully — she appreciates the honesty between them both. )