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withtheplanSteve didn't sleep much the previous night so it was good that he'd had a nap earlier in the afternoon, waking to find himself covered up with a blanket he didn't remember pulling over himself. He had fixed a batch of homemade chicken noodle soup for dinner, ignoring the very pointed looks that Natasha had sent in his direction, knowing she was gearing herself up for a conversation. He'd just been pleased that Bucky had eaten some of the soup even if he'd also had a couple of meal replacement bars, too.
Baby steps.
When Bucky had gone to take a shower, Natasha had taken that opportunity to firmly inform him that he was definitely, 100% making everything worse. He'd been indignant at first but when she'd simply pinned him with a stare that would have made most people wilt, he'd shut his mouth and listened.
"Give him tasks," she said. "Jobs. You can't just tell him to figure out how to be a person and expect him to know what that means. Not with how he's been conditioned." She'd given him some ideas, but he was still deeply, deeply uncomfortable with the concept of essentially ordering Bucky to do anything.
And when he'd told Natasha so, she'd told him to get the hell over himself.
Well then.
He'd lain awake all night, thinking about their conversation and then had gotten up bright and early, covering Bucky up with a blanket before making his way to the kitchen and starting the coffee, and then sitting down at the table with a pen and a notebook, jotting down the list of things Natasha had advised him to begin with, and a couple of others that he'd thought up on his own.
Baby steps.
When Bucky had gone to take a shower, Natasha had taken that opportunity to firmly inform him that he was definitely, 100% making everything worse. He'd been indignant at first but when she'd simply pinned him with a stare that would have made most people wilt, he'd shut his mouth and listened.
"Give him tasks," she said. "Jobs. You can't just tell him to figure out how to be a person and expect him to know what that means. Not with how he's been conditioned." She'd given him some ideas, but he was still deeply, deeply uncomfortable with the concept of essentially ordering Bucky to do anything.
And when he'd told Natasha so, she'd told him to get the hell over himself.
Well then.
He'd lain awake all night, thinking about their conversation and then had gotten up bright and early, covering Bucky up with a blanket before making his way to the kitchen and starting the coffee, and then sitting down at the table with a pen and a notebook, jotting down the list of things Natasha had advised him to begin with, and a couple of others that he'd thought up on his own.
no subject
Date: 2019-09-15 06:15 pm (UTC)Blood stains weren't easy to get out.
no subject
Date: 2019-09-16 12:33 am (UTC)Bucky methodologically searched Steve’s closet for clothes that would be suitable for combat. He used one of Steve’s running shirts as a base layer, but he couldn’t fit into Steve’s pants. Bucky was thicker in the hips, apparently.
All Steve had purchased for him were sweatpants. They had to do. He couldn’t find his old boots, but he took a pair of Steve’s.
He walked back out and barked at Natasha, “Armory.”