Chapter Text
[May]
Shuri sees Bucky sneak into the room like he's hoping nobody will notice him - fat chance, the hulking mass of pale muscle that he is. Luckily she's already talked to the others and they know not to make a big deal out of his presence. She's afraid he'll spook like a baby deer if they say anything - the two weeks he's spent in Wakanda he's been hugging the walls, making himself as small as possible; staring absently into the distance, unless specifically prompted into a conversation, and even then answering in monosyllables. To say Mother's worried is an understatement, but both she and T'Challa trust Shuri's judgment when it comes to the care and keeping of White Wolves.
She's been badgering him about coming here practically since he arrived - it was actually part of the plan all along, a scheme suggested by Wanda based on some conversations they've had about... that weird white people dance that nobody does anymore. Yet another way her Brother is a man out of time. Well, time to rectify that - and when in Wakanda, dance as the Wakandans do. Good thing the Dora have included her in their dance get-togethers for years, seeing it as both training and a way to make sure she'll get comfortable enough with them to accept their constant presence in her life.
With Bucky's metabolism, it was only a matter of time before he started practically climbing the walls, nervous energy looking for an outlet even though he's been eating so little. Mother's actually made it her pet project to 'fatten him up' - he's arrived practically emaciated, clothes hanging off of him, the vibranium arm looking almost disproportionate to his lean frame. The kitchens' been churning out his favorites every day, but he hasn't had much of an appetite. Understandable, but not acceptable.
Well, there's always the late dinner that everybody always grabs together after these shindigs, so here's hoping exercise will jump-start his system.
Okoye actually claps her hands like an instructor to grab everybody's attention; some of the Dora snicker at that, but they start warming up anyway. Bucky seems to relax a bit into the familiar movements - this part is always more or less the same, no matter whether you're preparing to fight or dance. He keeps to the back of the room though, throwing nervous glances at Shuri once every few minutes. Ayo quickly susses out that he's getting lost with some of the more dance-oriented moves, and slows them down for him, going as far as to place his hands on her hips and ribs to show him how to isolate the movement. He's adorably confused - the fancy way they dance in America has nothing to do with isolations and everything to do with throwing their body around like the floor is lava. His Red Room ballet training does help though - he has muscle control honed by years of sweat, blood and fear. Not that he's thinking about the Red Room now - she can actually see him smiling a little bit when they speed up the move and he's able to catch up to the rest of them. Okoye's going easier on them today, knowing that she has a newbie in the room, but that doesn't mean that anything they do is easy. Everybody's breathing a little faster and the room smells of clean, happy sweat by now.
Shuri sidles up to him when they take a water break, quietly appraising his body language. It's the first time she's seen him break through the blank wall he's been hiding behind since he's gotten off the quinjet two weeks ago. He's taken off his shirt, his scars on clear display that none of the present warriors pay any attention to; his hair is a sweaty mess barely contained by the elastic, and his eyes...
His eyes don't look like icy wastelands anymore. They're still grey, obviously - but there's crinkles around them that she's come to know and love. Bast, she's missed him.
"Okay, okay, I know what you're waiting for. You. Were. Right," he murmurs. "Now show me this chest-lift thing that Okoye's doing, but, like, 10 times slower. Y'all gonna kill me and we haven't even finished warming up yet."
She laughs, bright and unrestrained, then does as he asks.
Three hours later Bucky's lying face-down next to her hip and mumbling incoherently as she's braiding his hair away from his face. She can see the other women smiling indulgently at them - if she's practically their baby sister, then by extension he's part of the family, too. She can tell Okoye's watching him like a hawk - three hours should be nothing for a super soldier, yet here he is, a heap of quivering muscle on the floor. He must've been neglecting the training regimen that he's established after coming out of cryo. She's not surprised, knowing what's been on his mind - but it has to change and quickly; the weapons-grade prosthetic that is his arm, grafted onto his shoulder, spine and ribs requires considerable muscle mass to support. Any leaner, and he'd have started having serious problems using the limb; he's probably been having some pain already, not that he'd admit it to anybody. Shuri meets Okoye's eyes and nods her understanding. Bucky, at least, radiates content - the exertion seems to have loosened up something that was coiled so, so tight. She thinks she won't have much trouble convincing him to come here again.
"So, the festival in three months, Shuri, you got any details for us? What's your Mother planning?" Okoye's voice breaks through the dinner chatter.
"She's saying she wants it to be a start of a new tradition, remembering this whole Purple Grape of Doom mess" - there's some laughter, they know better than to expect any sort of decorum from her - "but she doesn't want it to be a serious affair; more a celebration of opening ourselves up to the world and becoming a part of it, than a wake for those who've been lost. She's mentioned she wants there to be lots of music and dancing though, so..." Shuri trails off expectantly.
"Well, the least we could do as the royal guard of honor is to help her with that." T'Yana smirks. "It's our duty to take point when the Queen Mother expresses a wish. You up for it, Princess?"
"Like I'd miss it," Shuri scoffs. "Brother? You're practically an adopted part of the royal family, you know." He grumbles something that could be taken for assent. "Three months, you think you can keep up with us feeble maidens?"
Bucky lifts his head, looking around blearily. "I'm pretty sure I'm the most feeble thing in this room, and none of you are innocent enough to be called maidens." Shuri starts fiddling with his hair again, and he smiles blissfully, closing his eyes. "Not playing fair, Princess. What did I just agree to?"
"Let's just say Wanda's going to be very happy with you. Oooh, maybe we can invite her to train with us, what do you think?" He mutters something again, his face buried in her skirt, his arms finding their way around her waist. She chuckles. "I'll catch you up later. Sleep, I'll wake you when we have to go home."
She gestures to Ayo to hand her some iced tea and keeps one hand lightly stroking the back of his neck. He hasn't been sleeping well, so she's not surprised that he dozes off after so much exercise; the endorphins must help, too. That's okay. She's got nowhere to be that's more important than with him.