The man they call Bucky watches the living room from the shadow of the hallway in Steve's living quarters. Steve had invited the others into his living room, had fixed tea provided by the man with the rumpled hair who had been concerned about the man they call Bucky's sleeping patterns.
The red-haired woman who once made him want to reach for the weapons he no longer keeps strapped against his skin is sitting on the couch. She knows that the man they call Bucky is there and observing, he is certain. But he is the one who lives in these quarters with Steve - he is not certain what authority, if any, she holds here.
He does not want to do anything she tells him. He wants to do what Steve tells him.
"Bucky, you want to come have tea with us?" Steve looks hopeful as he calls out into the hall.
The other two look curious at Steve's invitation. The man they call Bucky can label these expressions though he doesn't know why he knows what that particular tilt of a head means, what that specific line of a mouth illustrates. It had not mattered what curiosity his targets expressed. Their emotions were irrelevant.
He always knew what his handlers wanted him to know about their feelings toward him. There was no need to interpret it. They expressed their displeasure clearly and reinforced it with pain.
They were often displeased with him.
"Bucky?" Now Steve sounds concerned. He has never hurt the man they call Bucky. They all tell the man they call Bucky that he is safe but Steve is particularly insistent on the matter. He makes sure that the man they call Bucky is as warm as he prefers to be at all times.
At the moment, the living room is warmer than the room in which he is meant to sleep, even though he does not require more than four hours of sleep during any given day/night cycle to maintain optimum conditioning. The room, his room, will be warmer later when Steve turns up the heat before he goes to bed.
It is impossible to have both things that he wants, to both follow the warmth in Steve's living quarters and to avoid the visitors. The man they call Bucky decides that the visitors are the lesser of two evils. It has nothing to do with the hope he read on Steve's face.
His choice of seat, however, is absolutely down to Steve's expression as he beams at the man they call Bucky and waves him over to a chair. Obedience is rewarded - the chair is positioned right underneath the inflow of warm air from the ducts. The man they call Bucky is quite satisfied. He ignores the visitors.
***
His towels are even warmer when he takes them fresh from the machine Steve calls the dryer.
***
The man they call Bucky stares at his bed. It is different than it was before.
He reaches to examine it, to remove the fabric covering it, the thick duvet that must hide some sort of trap, but his metal hand hesitates over the soft fabric. He thinks about his towels. The man they call Bucky touches the bedding with his flesh hand instead.
It is a more accurate tool to gauge relevant information such as thread count and overall texture, he suggests to himself. But when his fingers clench onto the bedding instead of releasing it, he cannot remained convinced by his own argument.
He is not as tired as he was when he first arrived. He is not ready to be decommissioned the way he was when he first arrived. He would like to use his towels some more. He would like to use this bedding, put his body between the softness of the sheets and pull the feather-filled duvet up to his eyebrows until the air beneath it grows too warm for comfort.
Is there "too warm"? He is not certain. But he would like to find out before he is decommissioned.
He does not think the building suggested this. He thinks his new bed is from Steve.
FILL: All Windows Are Tinted 3/?
The red-haired woman who once made him want to reach for the weapons he no longer keeps strapped against his skin is sitting on the couch. She knows that the man they call Bucky is there and observing, he is certain. But he is the one who lives in these quarters with Steve - he is not certain what authority, if any, she holds here.
He does not want to do anything she tells him. He wants to do what Steve tells him.
"Bucky, you want to come have tea with us?" Steve looks hopeful as he calls out into the hall.
The other two look curious at Steve's invitation. The man they call Bucky can label these expressions though he doesn't know why he knows what that particular tilt of a head means, what that specific line of a mouth illustrates. It had not mattered what curiosity his targets expressed. Their emotions were irrelevant.
He always knew what his handlers wanted him to know about their feelings toward him. There was no need to interpret it. They expressed their displeasure clearly and reinforced it with pain.
They were often displeased with him.
"Bucky?" Now Steve sounds concerned. He has never hurt the man they call Bucky. They all tell the man they call Bucky that he is safe but Steve is particularly insistent on the matter. He makes sure that the man they call Bucky is as warm as he prefers to be at all times.
At the moment, the living room is warmer than the room in which he is meant to sleep, even though he does not require more than four hours of sleep during any given day/night cycle to maintain optimum conditioning. The room, his room, will be warmer later when Steve turns up the heat before he goes to bed.
It is impossible to have both things that he wants, to both follow the warmth in Steve's living quarters and to avoid the visitors. The man they call Bucky decides that the visitors are the lesser of two evils. It has nothing to do with the hope he read on Steve's face.
His choice of seat, however, is absolutely down to Steve's expression as he beams at the man they call Bucky and waves him over to a chair. Obedience is rewarded - the chair is positioned right underneath the inflow of warm air from the ducts. The man they call Bucky is quite satisfied. He ignores the visitors.
***
His towels are even warmer when he takes them fresh from the machine Steve calls the dryer.
***
The man they call Bucky stares at his bed. It is different than it was before.
He reaches to examine it, to remove the fabric covering it, the thick duvet that must hide some sort of trap, but his metal hand hesitates over the soft fabric. He thinks about his towels. The man they call Bucky touches the bedding with his flesh hand instead.
It is a more accurate tool to gauge relevant information such as thread count and overall texture, he suggests to himself. But when his fingers clench onto the bedding instead of releasing it, he cannot remained convinced by his own argument.
He is not as tired as he was when he first arrived. He is not ready to be decommissioned the way he was when he first arrived. He would like to use his towels some more. He would like to use this bedding, put his body between the softness of the sheets and pull the feather-filled duvet up to his eyebrows until the air beneath it grows too warm for comfort.
Is there "too warm"? He is not certain. But he would like to find out before he is decommissioned.
He does not think the building suggested this. He thinks his new bed is from Steve.
Steve wants him to be warm.
Steve wants him to be safe.
The man they call Bucky is warm.