Work Text:
“Wait, you’re saying there’s a spell that can help me find my soulmate? Even though I don’t have a soulmark?”
“Well, yes. It’s written specifically for those who don’t have visible soulmarks.”
“Great! Let’s do this.”
Bucky wakes with a start, followed by a sense of wrongness. He reaches for his phone to check the time, immediately noticing two things: first, that this is not his apartment. Second, that this is not his arm. He stares at the hand, not metal but flesh and bone, holding a phone that he doesn’t recognize.
“What the fuck,” he whispers.
The phone is locked, of course. Unfortunately, whoever owns the phone has it set to passcode, only. Bucky exhales in frustration; he’s unable to call his own phone, and presumably whomever is wearing his body, to try and figure out what the hell is going on.
It’s probably magic, he knows. He would call Doctor Strange, if he had his own phone. Although who knows if Doctor Strange would be the one to answer. Has everyone in the world swapped bodies, or just him and the person whose body he’s wearing? Whose body is he wearing? Would he recognize them?
Well, that’s a question he can answer easily enough. Bucky steps off the bed and through the door to the bathroom, feeling for a light switch. He finds it and faces the mirror as he flicks it on.
Bucky is greeted by the reflection of Jason Todd.
“What the fuck.”
He and Jason have only met a handful of times, despite his longstanding friendship with Dick Grayson. They’re barely acquaintances, so why, how, is Bucky in his body right now?
The cell phone Bucky left on the bedside table begins ringing. He rushes to check the caller ID, hoping it’s Dick, or one of the other Bats. He can explain what’s happened - maybe - and they can figure out how to fix this.
Instead, the caller ID just shows a number. Bucky’s number, he realizes, and grabs the phone, hitting the button to connect.
“Jason?” He answers, his voice a little more rushed than he would like.
“Who is this? And what the fuck are you doing in my body?”
Well, at least the swap was only two ways. “I could probably ask you the same thing,” Bucky replies. “This is Bucky. You woke up with seventy pounds of metal where your left arm should be, right?”
Jason exhales, loud enough for the phone to pick up. “Yeah. Do you know-”
“I don’t. I have an idea of where to start looking, but they’re in New York, and I’m guessing I woke up in Gotham, unless you were on vacation somewhere.”
“No, that’s…shit. Yeah, you’re at my place.” Jason pauses for a moment. “Is it someone I can visit as you?”
Bucky sits down on the bed, thinking. “He’ll probably know you’re not me, and I don’t know how he’d react.” Not very well, Bucky thinks. His acquaintance with Doctor Stephen Strange is more tenuous than with Jason.
“That’s not exactly helpful,” Jason says.
“No kidding.” Bucky sighs. “Is your bike fueled up? I can be in New York in a few hours.”
“I have a better idea.”
An hour later, Bucky finds himself in the Batcave, being asked a dozen questions he can’t answer about what exactly he’s doing in Jason Todd’s body. No one else in the Wayne family has body-swapped, and as far as anyone can tell it hasn’t happened elsewhere. Unfortunately, being a family of detectives and scientists means they want to run as many tests on Bucky - or Jason - as possible. And if that wasn’t enough, the one person Bucky knows would try to put a stop to this isn’t here.
As if on cue, the roar of a motorcycle engine fills the cave. Bucky exhales in relief as Dick cuts the engine and hops off, tugging his helmet off as he climbs the steps to the medical bay.
“Back off, everyone, let him breathe,” Dick tells everyone crowded around Bucky, before stopping right in front of him. “Holy shit.”
Bucky sighs. “Yeah. That’s been the general reaction. Hi, Dick.”
Dick blinks at him, then turns to Tim. “You’ve already run DNA?”
“First thing we did. It’s Jason’s body, but-”
“My consciousness, yeah. And Jason’s got my body, up in New York.” Bucky finishes. He makes his hands into fists and releases them, wondering at the sensation. His bionic arm transmits some data, of course, but it isn’t the same. This is…this is a memory he didn’t realize he forgot.
With a pang, he thinks of Jason, and what he must be feeling, dragging around a cybernetic limb that isn’t his. Did he panic when he woke up?
“Hey, Dick? Since you’re here, does that mean we can get moving?” Bucky’s desire to get back into his own body has a new sense of urgency.
Dick turns to Bruce, who nods. “We’re fueled and ready to go. Jay-ah, Bucky, you need to suit up.”
“No thanks,” Bucky says as he stands from the chair. Seeing the glower on Bruce’s face, he sighs. “It’s Manhattan. No one’s going to believe you and Dick aren’t just buskers, anyway.” It’s true; there are always people dressed as superheroes, especially near the tourist spots. Tony’s been known to cosplay as himself in front of Avengers Mansion, even. A pair of men dressed as Batman and Nightwing won’t even ping on the radar for most New Yorkers.
Bruce looks like he’s going to object, but Dick grabs his arm and shuffles him towards the hanger. “He’s right, Bruce. Let’s go.”
It’s just before noon when Bucky knocks on the door to his own apartment. He smiles to himself when he hears Jason move to the door, positioning himself off-center and likely holding one of Bucky’s own guns when he unlatches the door and cracks it open.
Sure enough, Bucky is greeted by the barrel of his own sidearm. Behind that, is the uncanny experience of looking into his own face and having it not be a reflection.
“Hey, Jason,” Bucky greets him. “Mind letting me in?”
The door closes, the chain is unhooked, and the door opens again. Bucky steps into his apartment, eyes darting around in a quick inventory.
“Alpine okay?”
Jason has holstered the pistol. “Is that your cat? She’s good. Dick on the roof still?”
Bucky nods, still watching Jason. It’s strange, to watch his body moving around, hearing Jason speak, that oddness of the voice being familiar but not, the way your own voice sounds odd when listening to a recording. But it’s also decidedly not his voice; Jason’s Gotham accent is discernible. Bucky wonders how it sounds when he talks, the hints of his Midwestern upbringing coloring a voice that is not his own.
“Do you need to grab anything before we go?” Jason asks.
“Do you have my phone on you?”
Jason nods and pats his pocket. “You have mine?”
It’s Bucky’s turn to nod. “Not that it does me much good, you don’t have any biometrics set up on it.”
Jason laughs. It’s not Bucky’s laugh, that’s for certain. It’s pleasant, though, and Bucky wonders what it sounds like for real. “Yeah, that’s on purpose. Do you know how easy it is to steal someone’s phone by holding it up to their face? I can’t even tell you how many times we’ve busted entire drug rings just by getting one guy’s phone unlocked.”
Bucky raises an eyebrow, silently conceding the point. He grabs his keys off their hook by the door, tossing them to Jason, who catches them. “Let’s go.”
They don’t run into any of Bucky’s neighbors on their way up to the roof, which Bucky is thankful for. They climb into the Batplane, Jason greeting Dick (but not Bruce), and take off for Greenwich Village.
By the time all four of them have climbed back out of the Batplane, Doctor Strange has stepped onto the roof of the Sanctum Santorum to greet them.
“I’m not sure I want to know what’s happened to bring Batman, Nightwing, and Revolution to my home,” he begins.
“Well, if it makes it easier, I’m actually Revolution,” Bucky says, lifting his hand. “Except this,” he places his hand on Jason’s shoulder-
-and is hit with a wave of vertigo, before refocusing on Doctor Strange. Except, he’s at a slightly different angle. And where he was feeling the fabric of Jason’s - his - sweater through his left hand, now he feels the familiar tingle of his bionic arm. He glances to his right, and meets Jason’s eyes. Jason’s very blue eyes, and he’s shaking his head as though clearing it, or perhaps readjusting to being back in his own body.
“What the fuck,” Bucky says, for the third time today.
“Jay?” Dick asks quietly.
“I’m good,” Jason answers, although there’s a note to it that suggests he is not. He waves off his brother’s approach, though.
Bucky looks back at Doctor Strange. “What did you do?”
“I haven’t done a thing,” Doctor Strange replies. “Am I to understand that you two are back in your correct bodies?”
Bucky shares another look with Jason before nodding. “We are. How did that happen?”
“I’m not sure how you two were switched in the first place,” Strange tells him. “But I can look into it. Why don’t you come inside?”
James Buchanan Barnes is not a person who is easily bothered. He’s spent too many years as a spy, as an assassin, and as Captain America, to let things get under his skin. And yet, less than five minutes of being glared at by Batman, and Bucky is feeling a lot more sympathetic towards Tony’s infamous disdain for the other hero.
Unlike Tony, though, Bucky can return the silent stare indefinitely.
“Vishanti, have they been like that this entire time?”
Bucky doesn’t drop his gaze, even as he hears Jason answer.
“They have, and it’s more than a little creepy. And that’s by my standards.”
Strange sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right. Well. It appears that it was, indeed, magic that caused you two to trade bodies.”
At this, Bruce and Bucky both shift their focus to Strange. “Do you know who did it?” Bucky asks.
“I’d rather not say,” Strange says carefully. “I can guess why you two were caught in the spell, though.”
“What do you mean by guess?” Jason asks.
Strange grimaces. “Would I be correct in assuming that neither of you have soulmarks?” The four sharp inhales answer Strange’s question clearly. “Right. Well then, congratulations are in order. You’ve found each other.”
Bucky’s eyes snap to Jason’s.
“Are you sure about that?”
Bucky isn’t sure who asked the question. He’s not entirely sure it wasn’t him. He also isn’t sure if Strange answers, because Bucky is sure about it. And the way Jason is watching him - with a mix of apprehension and determination - tells Bucky that Jason is certain of it, too.
There’s still conversation happening, but Bucky couldn’t care less about how the spell worked or how many others might be affected. This isn’t how introductions between soulmates go. When Bucky was a child, soulmates didn’t always find each other; when they did, it was usually someone they’d known most of their life. By the time he’d joined up with Steve, there were soulmark registries that people could opt to use, and they’d receive a letter with their match’s name and address. Now, it’s an email or message via an app from those same registries.
But like this? Waking up in the wrong body, finding out after they’ve switched back, and with an audience? And said audience includes Jason’s dad, who, Bucky reminds himself, is younger than Bucky himself. Not that Bucky looks or even feels anywhere close to his near-century, but that’s hardly the point.
“It’s a lot to process,” Jason remarks, as though he’s reading Bucky’s thoughts.
Bucky’s laugh comes out more like a bark, a choked off sound. Jason’s smirk has him chuckling softly, though.
“Okay, well, I’m certainly done here,” Jason continues. “And, Bucky, you need to go grocery shopping, you’ve got nothing in your kitchen. It’s worse than Dick’s apartment.”
They ignore Dick’s squawk of protest.
“There’s a pretty decent diner a couple blocks from here,” Bucky offers. “Unless you’re in a rush to get back to Gotham.”
Jason grins at him. “Yeah, that sounds good. Hey, B?” He glances over at Batman. “Thanks for bringing him up here. I’ll find my own way back.”
“Are you su-”
“Sure that I want to get to know him right now?” Jason meets Bucky’s eyes again. “Yes. Dick already raves about him, I want to know how much of that is true.”