Pierdut(lost)

Î N Ş E L Ă C I U N E

deception

/dəˈsepSH(ə)n/

noun

the action of deceiving someone

****

They walked throughout the halls, talking, as they headed toward Bruce's lab. They would ask him, not Tony, if there would be anyway if he would be able to help with the arm. Steve tried to reason with himself that the two men weren't going behind Tony's back and getting help from Bruce, that they weren't purposefully avoiding him.

Bucky wasn't worried. Wasn't worried at all, actually, but the pure concern rolling off of the 6ft soldier next to him was interfering with his 'can't be bothered' attitude. Why should Steve's mind be occupied by thoughts of everyone else when Bucky's thoughts consisted only of him? Even as they quietly strolled toward the lab, for his arm nonetheless, all he could think of was Steve. How well his body would fit in his arms, how warm his heart would finally feel once Steve knew how much he lived for him, how perfect he felt sleeping next to him. Just thinking about it made his heart stutter in his chest. It hadn't done that in a long time.

****

"Dr. Banner." Steve smiled at the timid man, who looked as if he had just awoken. Said man smiled quickly back before looking confusedly at Bucky. "Steve. Who's that?" Bruce jerked his head at him and looked inquiringly at Steve. Steve looked behind him and made an 'o' shape with his mouth. "Bruce, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is Dr. Bruce Banner." Steve introduced, walking closer. Bucky crossed his arms. Well, tried to cross his arms. Before he could bend it, the joint fizzled and crackled and straightened out completely. Bruce blinked once, twice and three times. "Maybe we should call Tony-" "No! No, Bruce, we can't call Tony for this. He won't help." Bruce sighed and placed his fingers between his eyebrows.

"So you want me, a basic engineer and neuroscientist, to repair a fractured prosthetic? Without the resident expert in making full metal bodysuits?" His words ran together from sleep deprivation. Steve blinked. "Steve, I don't think-" "Yes, actually, that's exactly what I'm asking. Bruce, the faster you can do this, the faster we can get out of you and everyone else's hair. Just tell us if you can't and we'll figure something else out." Steve intercepted Bucky's sentence and stepped closer to Bruce, towering over the softer man. Bruce's eyes were half closed with tiredness and red with sleep. He had been locking himself away, trying to deal with the other guy living inside of him, trying, trying so hard to stop people from looking warily at him every time they yelled too loud. The same looking that Bucky was giving him right now. "I'll see what I can do."

****

"Ok, Steve, if you need to go outside, go ahead. I don't know how badly damaged it is and if it's causing him pain now, it'll most likely be worse once I pop it open." Bruce placed a hand on said arm and looked questioningly at Steve's alert demeanor. Steve took a breath and sat back in his chair by his pal's side. "I'll stay right here, if that's ok with you." He placed his hand next to the flesh hand. He wanted to hold it so badly. Bruce nodded seriously.

Inhale. 1,2,3. Exhale. 3,2,1. Bucky had his eyes closed the entire time. Bruce had split the arm open and had started to operate. Inhale. 1,2,3. Exhale. 3,2,1. Sharp fizzles of pain shot through his whole body, just like Bruce said it would. So breathing isn't working, what would? He had to think fast before he bit his lip any harder. Bucky thought of Steve.

Bucky was younger. Lighter and happier. Steve and he we're almost the same height, but he was taller. He was always pretty tall for his age. It was 1930, Brooklyn.
"Hi, Ms. Rogers." Bucky smiled up at the woman. She was skinny with light....brown? Was her hair brown? No, it was blonde. She was skinny with platinum blonde hair and dull blue eyes. "Hello, dear. Would you like to come in? Steven's a little sick right now, but you can still go see him." She hummed, her voice fuzzy. Bucky couldn't put his finger on her exact tone and really couldn't even remember her face. "That's just fine, ma'am. I've brought some soup for him. I helped my ma make it." He proudly displayed the heavy pot that was wobbling in his child hands. She smiled weakly, coughed, and gingerly took the pot from him. He walked in and headed straight for the second room on the left. "Stevie?" He knocked. After hearing a faint groan, he let himself in.
His vision of Steve was the opposite of Ms.Rogers. While she was fuzzy, Bucky could see Steve clearly, as if he were actually in 1930. Every detail, from the smudges on his fingers to the wisps of hair in his face. It was unreal.

"How're you doin', pal?" Bucky softly inquired, sitting at his usual chair at the bedside. Steve's eyes gently flicked to his. "What time is it?" He rasped. From just this, he began to cough profusely. Bucky grabbed a face towel and wiped at the sweat on his brow and darted for the inhaler. Steve swatted his hand away from it and mouthed a quiet 'no'. Bucky checked his breathing and  sighed. "I brought you some soup. It's home-made, straight from the hands of this Barnes." He smiled, proudly pointing at himself. Steve weakly smiled back. Bucky felt his forehead and nodded seriously. "That's probably a cold." He sighed. Steve stared. "What is it?" Bucky stared back. Steve turned away. "Nothin', Buck."

***

Bruce sat back, placing his tools back on their stand. It had been about four hours since Bucky had started to stare off into the distance. The cloudiness in his eyes hadn't dissipated yet, but the blue was starting to show again. Steve was softly caressing the skin on his flesh hand quietly, too intently gazing at his best friend to notice that the procedure was over.

The problem had been in the main workings inside of the arm. There was an open wire that had been essentially electrocuting Bucky for some time now, but he hadn't figured out how the wire had ended up like that. He decided not to ask. Bruce shuffled out of the room, leaving the two men alone.