Work Text:
Steve poured the last of the coffee into Bucky’s cup and stood, picking up their dishes.
It had been a great evening, even if he’d had a feeling that there’d been something on Bucky’s mind all night. Moments of silence that didn’t fit the conversation and times when Bucky seemed to lose track of what they were talking about, like he was somewhere else.
Sure, that wasn’t really that odd. Sometimes, Bucky remembered things and didn’t say that was what was going on. He played the bad stuff close to his vest, because he didn’t want anyone to know just how bad that bad stuff was, and seemed to think Steve couldn’t guess what was going on or didn’t notice—but this seemed different. Not so much like he was hiding something, more like he was getting his ducks in a row. He used to be just the same back in school before he got up to do a book report.
They seemed to have gotten to it, because Bucky was just fixated on trying to get him to carry a gun, which was pretty weird, since he knew that Bucky had always thought he had absolutely crappy gun discipline and was no better than average a shot. “I’m glad you came over for dinner, Buck, but you’re not going to convince me to carry a gun.”
Tapping a finger on the table, Bucky frowned and said, “You carried a gun during the war, Steve. Why not now? You should keep your options open, plan for all possible situations. What if you lose your shield? What if your opponent has abilities that make close range fighting risky?”
“Because this isn’t war, Buck. This is America. I’m a soldier—America’s soldier—and I don’t want to risk the chance of shooting a civilian.”
Steve dumped the dishes in the sink, put the plug in and started filling it with water after adding detergent. “Detergent was a great invention, huh?
“Yeah, that’ll change the subject, for sure. Good job.” Bucky picked up a dishtowel and threw it at Steve. “You cooked, so I’ll wash.”
“Won’t that mess up your arm?”
“I’d have to be underwater for days for it to become a problem.” He picked up a sponge and started cleaning a plate. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been to get myself out of the wreckage and the river, let alone pull you out. “ Raising an eyebrow, Bucky looked at Steve. “You think they’d create a weapon without keeping contingencies in mind? Nope. Someday, you might need one. That’s why I want you to carry a gun.”
Steve took the clean dish that Bucky held out to him, silent for a moment while he considered whether he wanted to say what he was thinking or not. Sometimes, you did better with Bucky not to come right out and say stuff, but to kinda maneuver what you wanted to say into a conversation about something else, and hope he pulled the pieces together in the direction you wanted.
No, he wasn’t gonna do that. He was getting sick of talking around the elephant in the room all the time. “No, it isn’t.”
“Sure it is.”
“No, this is about me dropping my shield, isn’t it, Buck?”
Bucky didn’t answer, his expression hidden by a curtain of hair, all his concentration appearing to be on an invisible spot of food on a bowl.
Then, his attention still on the bowl, he said, “You should always have a backup plan, Steve. You had no shield, you let me get the upper hand, and if things had gone differently, you’d have been outta options with no way back.
“If you’d had a gun, and you had to, you could have shot me in the face. I can deal with a lot of damage, but a bullet to the head from no inches away…that woulda taken me out or at least fucked me up bad.” Bucky handed him the bowl and picked up the other plate.
Steve resisted the urge to reach out and smack Bucky in the head, although it was pretty damn strong. “Damn it, Bucky, there’s no way in hell I was shooting you in the face.”
Turning to face him, his expression serious, Bucky said, “But you could have. You would have had a choice. You coulda changed your mind if you decided not to be so dumb with your life.” He handed Steve the plate. “You should carry a gun and stop being so stupid about it. You should always have a choice. Plan for the worst case scenario.”
Feeling a flare of irritation, Steve breathed in and pushed it away. Getting angry about this wouldn’t help. Bucky just didn’t get it, was all.
He put the plate down and looked at Bucky. “You’re the one who’s being an stupid, Buck. A gun WAS the damn worst case scenario, you idiot.”
Bucky frowned at him for a minute or two, then turned away, let out a sigh, and put his hands back in the sink. “If you won’t get a gun, then I guess I better stick around and carry a gun for ya. Damn numbskull.”
Steve picked the plate up again and dried it, grinning. “Okay, Buck. Sounds good.”
“Asshole.”