video

[prespangled]

[He was gonna go somewhere a little more peaceful for this, maybe the outskirts of the park. But his energy levels are running low, even lower than usual with the stress of late, not that he'd ever admit it.

But he's not dead, not even hurt really. He's just tired. So what you get is one Steve Rogers, sitting in front of a pile of nondescript rubble. There's something just at the edge of the video, something he tried to push out of sight completely. But anyone who's every seen a little red wagon will recognize it for what it is, no matter how dirty and dull it appears.]

I know just about everyone's had a rough few days recently. I thought...maybe I could help. [Those words bring a lump to his throat. He wanted to help while it was all going on too, but in the end he wasn't able to do much.] I'm already out, so if there's anything that you need, I'll do my best to find it and get it to you.

[Steve's eyes lift and dart to the wagon, which he has a love-hate relationship with right now. It reminds him of when Bucky wanted him to do this sort of thing. Pride is always a bitter pill to swallow, and Steve's never really managed to choke it down. Come to think of it, maybe that's the lump in his throat.]

Of course, I'll be able to get it there faster if anyone knows how to put a wheel back on. I can live with the scratches and dents.

Comments

[prespangled]

Bucky-

[Whatever protest he was about to make is lost when the other disconnects. He should've learned by now that Bucky on a mission is never deterred.

So he waits. It's a good excuse to rest anyway.]

I just sorta found it that way. Dug it out. It'll come in handy, I guess.

[wipedclean]

[He nods in understanding and concentrates on the wagon, sitting down next to it and getting started on fixing it as best he can.

He doesn't say anything.]

[prespangled]

[Steve watches him, wonders if he's secretly pleased in some way even if he doesn't understand why.

That'll probably change.]

Hey, since we're already this far, I wanna go to the armory.

[wipedclean]

[The whell half affixed, he turns his head and considers Steve.]

You willing to ride in the wagon there?

[prespangled]

[What is this that he's feeling, is he amused, is he offended.]

No, I'm not.

[He fixes Bucky with a narrow-eyed stare.]

Are you?

[wipedclean]

[He snorts.]

Can you pull me?

[prespangled]

[Well. Challenge accepted. Steve gets to his feet.]

Get in.

[wipedclean]

[Oh for...

He sighs and rolls his eyes.]

Let me finish.

[Which he does, and it only takes another couple of minutes before the wheel is attached well.]

Alright.

[He gets into the wagon and looks at Steve expectantly.]

[prespangled]

[Steve looks briefly concerned as Bucky settles himself in the wagon. It's not that he regrets anything, but he is worried that it's about to become a flat sheet of metal underneath him.

But it holds together - see, they used to make things to last. Steve grips the handle in both hands.]

Okay. Hang on.

[Hang on, he says.

He grits his teeth and starts to pull. If he had any muscles in those skinny arms of his, they'd be straining right about now. Steve digs his heels in, but all he's managing to do is pull himself into the dirt.]

[wipedclean]

[He sits there, watches Steve struggle. He watches silently for a couple of minutes before he feels like his point is made, whatever it was.]

Stop.

[And then he gets out of the wagon.]

You'll hurt yourself.

[prespangled]

[The wagon doesn't move an inch, but Steve's breathing like he did a couple of laps around the block. He smooths his hair to the side and stands up straight again.]

I don't think you're a welterweight anymore.

[wipedclean]

I have a metal arm.

[Of course he's not a welterweight. Anyway.]

Catch your breath.

[They're not moving out until Steve is ready.]

[prespangled]

[It's not a bad point. Steve's eyes go to Bucky's other arm too, which is also bigger than it used to be.]

I'm fine. [Steve nods, tipping his chin up.] You pull. I'll look for stuff along the way.

[wipedclean]

[He nods. It's a fair compromise. He picks up the handle of the wagon and gestures.]

Lead the way.

[prespangled]

[Steve looks along the edge of the street as they go, checking random rubble and the windows of any stores they happen to pass along the way. He glances back at Bucky, a big man pulling a little red wagon behind him.]

Have you visited the armory before?

[wipedclean]

Once.

[He'd taken a look because obviously. But he hadn't taken anything. Not yet.]

It's all blades and bows and the like.

[No judgement, just facts.]

[prespangled]

Not your style?

[Because even in the forties, that stuff was a bit outdated. But Bucky didn't say that. His tone didn't suggest it either.]

You're pretty good with a blade though. I've seen you, that thing you do. [Steve does a little twirl with his fingers, gesturing the little flips that Bucky does with a knife when he's not even thinking about it.] Help me pick one out.

[wipedclean]

[He shrugs.]

It's fine. I wanted to see how well I could do with my own knives and guns first.

[He nods in answer to that second part.]

I will.

[Because it's important to have a suitable weapon, at least when you have the choice.]

[prespangled]

[The armory's a little further away than Steve obviously realized. He's sweaty, clearly tired on his feet, but he keeps moving forward. Eventually the building comes into view, more elegant that Steve imagined it.

Steve stares at the weapons that line the walls inside, sword after sword, spears, knives with blades of varying lengths.

And then he spots it; the thing that he's drawn to like a moth to the flame. Steve pulls the shield down, slides his arms through the straps before turning to face Bucky again.]

It's a little heavier than a trash can lid. But a lot sturdier too.

[wipedclean]

[He blinks.

That. That feels very familiar.]

It might be too heavy.

[He goes through the shields, testing them, until he finds one like the one Steve picked, but more lightweight. Still sturdy, though.]

Try this.

[prespangled]

[He places the first shield down, reaching for the one that Bucky chose. He can feel the difference right away.]

Oh yeah. [Steve tests it, raising and lowering his arm a little to test the strain. He could do this.] I think this might be the one. [He looks up at Bucky, smiling.] I didn't know you knew about shields too.

[wipedclean]

[He shrugs a little.]

I know about weapons. Doesn't matter what kind. Shields count too.

[He starts poking around the blades, shorter ones, picking them up and testing the weight and balance. After a few tries he offers one to Steve by the hilt.]

See how that feels.

[prespangled]

[Steve takes the blade, and it's a good length, not too heavy. But something about it still makes him frown to himself.]

Feels as good as any of 'em probably will. It's just less of my thing, you know what I mean?

[wipedclean]

[He gives Steve something of a Look.]

Neither of these are your thing. But you can learn.

[prespangled]

Well, they've gotta become my thing if I wanna help defend the city.

[Which reminds him. Steve looks up at him, wondering if he should approach the subject carefully or just come right out and say it.

Who are we kidding. The latter way is the only way Steve really knows.]

Would you be interested in that? If it was something a little formal.