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English
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Part 40 of Love Is For Children
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Published:
2016-04-02
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2016-04-02
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12,617
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6/6
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Coming in from the Cold: Sunday: Shaking Foundations

Summary:

Steve and Bucky cope with some influence from Bucky's prosthetic arm. Uncle Phil uses a private ageplay session to help Steve with his feelings. JARVIS, floundering with his own emotions and interpretations of other peoples' motivations, asks Phil for assistance. Steve is still struggling to get a handle on what's happening to him. They finish up the day with a movie.

Notes:

"Coming in from the Cold" is the next big piece in its series, dealing with Bucky and his continued issues with that piece-of-crap prosthesis. I'm posting each day within the story as a section unto itself, broken down into post-sized parts.

I also have a list of photogenic scenes from the whole series for fanartists to consider, a series landing page, and anarchive of images.

A note on feedback: While it's not necessary to comment on every post I make, remember that I don't know who reads/likes things if nobody says anything. Particularly on long stories, I've discovered that I get antsy if there's nothing but crickets chirping for several posts. So it helps to give me feedback at least once, even if it's just "I like this" or "This one doesn't grab me." First and last episodes are ideal if you rarely feel inspired to comment in the middle.

Anonymous commenters: You don't have to specify exactly who you are, but it helps to have a first name or a username from some other service, so I have some idea of who's saying which and how many different "Anonymous" folks there are. You can just type some kind of identifier at the end of your comment.

(See the end of the work for more notes and other works inspired by this one.)

Chapter 1: A Bit Off

Chapter Text

The next morning, JARVIS gave Phil ample warning when Bucky showed signs of waking. When Phil arrived in Steve's apartment, the two brothers were curled together in bed. Steve had a crease down one cheek where he'd been sleeping on Bucky's shoulder and the seam between metal and flesh had pressed itself into Steve's skin. His dark blond hair looked like a haystack. Natasha sat on the bed beside them, slowly stroking her hand down Bucky's arm.

Bucky yawned and stretched, opening his eyes. "Natasha," he said.

"That's one out of three," she said with a rare smile. "Can you do the other two?"

"Steve," said Bucky. He paused, then added, "... Uncle?"

"Uncle Phil, yes," said Phil as he settled into the chair. "Good morning, Bucky. It sounds like you're doing well today." This was the first time he'd managed to identify three people without prompting.

Steve rolled onto his elbow and began the morning round of storytelling that helped Bucky find his memories. Steve painted a picture of their childhood, of Bucky's loss and rescue. The two brothers faced each other, but there was an edginess in them that made Phil frown a little. Something seems a bit off, but I can't tell what, he thought.

Natasha took her time. Her level voice filled in more details of Bucky's past and present. Their complex relationship was traced out in words as fine as ink, black and white and shades of gray.

Then it was Phil's turn. He explained about Bucky's captivity and recovery. Bucky flexed his left arm, as he usually did, watching his metal fingers open and close in their skin-colored glove. "Tony's making good progress on the replacement," Phil said, tapping the artificial wrist.

"He wanted me ... and Bruce ... to look over blueprints," Bucky said slowly. "No. That was yesterday. We did that." His forehead scrunched. "Today. Look at the prototype armature. That is today's task. Right?"

"Yes, Bucky, that is correct," said JARVIS. A hologram unfolded itself into Bucky's personal calendar. "You may find sir at your disposal any time after breakfast."

Bucky read over the short list of planned activities for the day. He was learning how to use JARVIS as a prosthetic memory. "Morning routine ... personal care," he murmured, tracing the lines as he read them.

Steve didn't respond as he usually did, lost in some contemplation of his own. Phil reached out to nudge him, but Natasha gave Steve a measuring glance and then dismissed him. "Come," she said, holding out a hand to Bucky. "I will accompany you in the bathroom."

Well, it's not like this is anything new, Phil thought. They've shared space on missions before. Natasha had a blunt, practical approach to bodies and their functions.

Steve was still lying in bed, quivering a little.

"Are you all right?" Phil asked.

"I don't know," Steve said. Then he shook himself. "I should get up." He looked at the closed bathroom door. "Use the spare bathroom, I guess."

"Okay," Phil said. "I'll just wait for you, if you don't mind."

It only took a few minutes for Steve to get ready. He was quick about it. Bucky still took longer, relearning the steps. Steve didn't look very good himself, though. The jittery motion was more pronounced.

"Steve, can you tell me what's wrong?" Phil asked, reaching out to him.

"It's Bucky. This is so hard on him, and it's all my fault," Steve said. His shoulders slumped under the crisp lines of his shirt.
"He's getting better," Phil pointed out.

"I know, I know that, it's just -- this shouldn't have happened," Steve said. "Bucky is my friend. I should've taken better care of him. I got him on that train, and then I dropped him. I didn't even go back to look for him, and I should have. Then when we finally found him, I ordered Hawkeye to shoot him from behind." Steve looked as forlorn as a sack of wet kittens pulled from a frigid river.

"Bucky doesn't blame you for any of that," Phil said. Steve had been going over and over this ground, some of it all along, other parts since Bucky's return. Phil was still trying to figure out ways of correcting the misconceptions. Bucky's perspective helped somewhat, but not enough.

"I blame myself," Steve said, his voice fraying. The situation was shaking his foundations.

Phil switched to a new tactic. "If you want to blame someone, blame the people who treated Bucky as a guinea pig and tried to use the Tesseract to turn the tide of war."

"Goddamn HYDRA," Steve snarled. He balled up his fist and swung at the nearest wall.

Phil threw his whole weight against Steve's arm, wrapping himself around the wrist so that they spun about. That deflected the blow so that Steve's fist missed the wall. Steve stumbled into the center of the room, wildly off balance.

"No hitting," Phil said in his firmest voice. "Remember that JARVIS is part of this building, and that even you could break your hand by punching a reinforced wall."

"What -- what just happened?" Steve stammered. He seemed to go from furious to bewildered in the space of a breath.
"I don't know," Phil said. "Come here and let's talk about it."

Steve leaned against the nearest wall and then slid slowly to the floor. "I was just -- I felt so angry all of a sudden. It came out of nowhere."

"Bucky and Bruce both have experience with that sort of thing," Phil said. The similarity raised a suspicion in his mind. He reached out and cupped Steve's face, tracing the crease with his thumb.

Steve flinched.

Phil let go. "Am I hurting you?"

"No," Steve said. "No, I'm just hypersensitive all of a sudden." His breathing sounded ragged and his chest shuddered.

"Okay. Try to calm yourself down," Phil said. "Take slow, deep breaths. Put your palms on the floor and feel the texture of the carpet. Focus on the present moment. You have a good strong body. It will help you bounce back if you let it ..." Phil kept murmuring instructions to Steve while he gradually settled down.

At last Steve rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. "I don't know what came over me. That was really scary."

"Yes, it was," Phil said. "Will you let me look you over?" Steve nodded. Phil knew enough first aid to run a quick check. He frowned, fingers curled over Steve's wrist. "Your pulse is elevated. It's not much, but enough to notice."

"Oh that can't be good," Steve said. It took a lot for his body to show any kind of stress or fatigue from exertion.

Phil traced over the crease on Steve's cheek again, fading now but still visible. "This looks like you slept on Bucky's shoulder."

"Yeah, we like to stay close at night," Steve said.

"That may be the problem," Phil said. "Remember what Tony said about the auxiliary power source?"

"It's contained."

"It also has a range of one to two feet."

The penny dropped. "You think it did this to me," Steve said, his eyes widening.

"I think it's likely," Phil said. "Come on, let's go up to the common kitchen for breakfast. Low blood sugar undermines emotional regulation. Bruce will probably be there too, and we can ask him what he thinks."

"Yeah," Steve said as he climbed to his feet. He hunched a little. "I'm really sorry."

"Apology accepted. You weren't yourself at the time," Phil said. He ushered Steve into the elevator. Then Phil pulled out his Starkphone and tapped out a few commands. "Here, borrow some worksheets for emotional monitoring. Fill in what just happened. That will help us figure out if there's a pattern to this."

"Okay," Steve said. Obediently he took the phone and started working on the assignment as they rode to the common floor. He seemed shaken but still functional.

When they reached the kitchen, it smelled deliciously of eggs and sausage. Clint and Bruce were standing over the crockpot, arms draped casually around each other. Clint held a plate while Bruce scooped breakfast casserole onto it.
"Morning, folks," said Clint.

"Good morning," Phil replied. Steve just flopped down at the table without responding, his attention focused on the worksheets.

Instantly Bruce peeled away from Clint. "Steve, what's wrong?" he asked. "This isn't like you."

"I don't know," Steve said in a small voice. "I snapped at Phil. I, um, I need to finish this."

"Okay," Bruce said as he sat down. He pulled out his own phone. "JARVIS, show me what happened, please."

Clint sat down at the table, setting one plate in front of himself and another in front of Bruce. "Here, don't forget to eat," he said. Phil hoped that Clint would get enough to eat, too, since the conversation was likely to chase him out of the room.

"Mmm-hmm," Bruce said absently, taking a forkful without looking away from the phone. "JARVIS, I want an hour-by-hour summary of Bucky and Steve from last night." He frowned over the results.

Phil left Steve to Bruce for the moment. He filled another two plates, one for himself and a larger portion for Steve. Then he put them on the table and sat down. "How are you doing?" Phil asked when Steve finally put aside the phone and started eating.

"Little better," Steve said. "This must be so much worse for Bucky. I let him fall, I let him get captured, this is all my fault. Then when we found him, I had to make Hawkeye shoot him in the back --"

"Hey, no, none of that," Clint said. "I couldn't shoot him from the front; the Winter Soldier was too fast, he would've dodged. That was the only way to get him out of enemy hands safely, and we all knew it, and it worked. Do not beat up on yourself about that. You made the right call."

"Doesn't stop it from hurting," Steve said.

"Yeah, I know," Clint said. He took a deep, steadying breath and then continued. "When Loki mind-raped me, Phil and Natasha never gave up on me even though I was compromised. Natasha had to kick me in the head to break Loki's hold over me -- and Steve, I'm glad she did that." Clint reached out to put a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Yeah, it hurt. I know it was hard for her. But it was a lot better than leaving me under enemy control or shooting me dead. She knows -- she just knows me, understands what I would want even when I couldn't say it myself. She was there for me when I needed her, no matter how hard it was for both of us. I'm really grateful for it."

Steve stared for a moment, and Phil couldn't blame him. Clint rarely spoke about what had happened to him. Then Steve managed to drag his social awareness back into working order enough to figure out what Clint meant by telling him that. "You think Bucky feels the same way," Steve guessed.

"Yeah, he thinks you saved him, and he's real attached to that notion, so don't shake it up for him," Clint said. "We've talked about it, just a little, during target practice and stuff."

"I, um. Thanks. I'll try to keep that in mind," Steve said.

"Anytime," Clint said, and turned back to his breakfast.

Phil was quietly thrilled to see him dealing with the topic of mind control, even in small portions. "Good job, Clint," he murmured. Clint gave him a little smile. Phil turned his attention back to his excellent breakfast.