#foxholebros

[griseldabanks]

For the Let Me Count the Ways ask game, can I suggest 12 for either Steve and Sam or Bucky and Sam? There's something about it that seems to fit.

Also, you've definitely been running this for a long time because last time I did one of these, I didn't have tumblr!

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

“Here, lay him on the floor,” Sam said urgently, digging under the seats for the first aid kit and banging on the division between the back of the van and the front. With a squeal of tires, Natasha gunned it and they pulled away.

Grabbing onto a handhold to keep from falling flat on his face, Sam turned back to his task, only to discover Steve still crouching at the far end of the van, eyeing him warily as he clutched Bucky's still form like his life depended on it.

Unfortunately, it was Bucky's life that was in question right now.

“I need to look at him,” Sam snapped, pulling on gloves without breaking eye contact. “I know what it takes to keep guys like him down. If that bullet in his leg hit the artery, he could be bleeding out right now while we're talking about it. Put him down and let me do my job.”

Steve's gaze, so hard and steely, suddenly wavered as he glanced down at Bucky's face. Then he finally did as he was asked, and lay Bucky carefully on the floor. Bucky stirred faintly, his eyelids flickering, but he didn't seem conscious. Steve set Bucky's shield, which he'd picked up off the battlefield, to the side out of the way.

Sam knelt at Bucky's side and got to work. It was tricky, stitching him up and bandaging his wounds in the back of a speeding van, but he'd patched people up in moving vehicles plenty of times before. The only difference was the crazy amount of damage Bucky's body would put up with before it shut down. Sam had only seen the tail end of the fight, but Bucky had already been covered in blood before the final shot to his leg had cut him down.

Miraculously, it hadn't hit the artery, though it had come close. Even with Bucky's supersoldier healing, he probably wouldn't have survived that. All the same, he would probably need a blood transfusion once they got back to base. What was his blood type again? Well, Sam's was O+, so that was probably fine....

The whole time Sam worked, Steve never left Bucky's side. He said nothing, and never took his eyes away from Bucky's face except for when Sam enlisted his help to lift him or turn him over, or a few times when he had him hold a flashlight so Sam could fish out a bullet.

When Sam finally decided he'd done all he could until they could hand him over to a real doctor, he wearily sat down on one of the seats along the side of the van and peeled off his bloody gloves. Slowly, adrenaline began seeping out of him, leaving him exhausted. It had been a non-stop scramble ever since they first got the call, and only now could he breathe.

Steve still knelt next to Bucky, looking down at him with a pensive expression, hands curled into fists on his knees. He looked like he was waiting for Bucky to wake up and tell him he could relax.

“He's probably not waking up anytime soon,” Sam said, “but he'll be okay. Staring at him's not gonna make him heal faster.”

Steve's eyes flicked up to him, but then went right back to staring at Bucky's face. He didn't relax even a smidge.

Sam sighed. “Look...I know this may be hard to believe...but I'm on your side. 'Cause I'm on his side.” He pointed at Bucky. “And yeah, you might've tried to kill us before, but if he says you're cool...then we cool.”

An odd expression crossed Steve's face, so swiftly Sam couldn't be sure what it meant. It had almost looked like relief, but...nah.

“How's he doing?” Natasha's voice asked in his ear. Her voice was tense with worry.

“Stable for now,” Sam replied. “Just get us back to base without crashing, yeah?”

“What do you take me for, the Winter Soldier?”

Sam couldn't help smirking at that, though there had been nothing funny about it in the moment the Winter Soldier had ripped the steering wheel right out of his hands. He glanced across at the man now, holding Bucky's hand in both of his with such gentleness one would think he was made of glass.

No...Steve was the one who looked like he would shatter at any moment.

Come on, Sam Wilson, a voice that sounded a lot like Riley whispered in his head. Get him talking. It's what you do best.

“So was he always like this?” he asked. “Rushing off into trouble without telling anybody and then getting hurt?”

Steve tensed for a moment, his arm twitching as if he wanted to go for a knife or something. But he sat there looking at Sam, actually meeting his gaze for more than a split second for the first time in...maybe ever. And there was no hostility or suspicion this time, only thoughtfulness and maybe a bit of confusion. Like he was searching his memory, reaching far back into the dusty corners for something half-forgotten.

“No,” he said quietly, gaze dropping back to Bucky's face. “Well...he came up with crazy ideas...but he'd always bring me along too. If I didn't want to, or if I couldn't...like when I was sick...he'd stay with me. He'd say...'it's no fun without you.'”

Fun. Sam was almost surprised Steve even knew the meaning of the word. He couldn't even imagine the man so much as cracking a smile.

Hmm. That would be a sight for sore eyes. But probably only Bucky could manage it at this point.

“You guys get into much trouble?”

“Sometimes.” His voice was vague and distant, like he was barely conscious he was even speaking. He was lost in the past somewhere, in a time long before Hydra had ruined their lives. “I'd usually be the one who got caught...or hurt. I wasn't as strong or as fast as he was. And then they'd tell me, Why can't you be more like Bucky? Look at what a good boy he is....”

There was a yearning somewhere behind his eyes, normally so cold and forbidding, like a wall of blue ice. Somewhere deep down inside...he still wanted to be like Bucky.

Sam smirked fondly down at his friend. “Yeah, that sounds about right. He comes up with a great plan, and it doesn't matter if you think you can do it. He looks at you like he expects you to do it anyway...and how can you say no?” Like when he and Natasha had shown up on Sam's doorstep. Like when they were talking about bringing down the helicarriers. Like when he looked Nick Fury right in the eye and announced he was bringing down S.H.I.E.L.D.

He shook his head with a weary chuckle. “What a jerk, am I right?”

Bucky mumbled something in his sleep, inaudible to Sam with the rumble of the van, but Steve seemed to have heard it. He stared at Bucky with an expression so vulnerable and open that Sam felt like he was intruding on something. But he also couldn't tear his gaze away.

In that moment, he could almost see the skinny kid Steve had been describing, stumbling after his hero who was also—miraculously, inexplicably—his best friend. A boy who had chosen him, out of all the people he could have chosen as his companion. The man who kept on choosing him, in the midst of war and the serum and their changing roles as he fell into the shadow of Captain America. The man who still chose him, even after Hydra had stolen the hero away and warped him into their deadly plaything.

Bucky still looked at Steve Rogers and saw something no one else did, maybe something Steve himself couldn't even see.

Sometimes, Sam thought he caught a glimpse of it too. He couldn't wait until the real Steve Rogers stepped into the full light of day again.

[sergeanttomycaptain]

The last five minutes was an absolute crap chute for me at first. But while leaving the theater, an idea came to mind and it just comforted the crap out of me. So, if anyone else needs it, an extended scene for ya:

When Steve does the quantum jump to return the infinity stones, he stays long enough to tell his alter from 1945 to give his coordinates to Peggy before crashing the Valkyrie, keep his recovery a secret, change his name to Grant, marry Peggy after the war, take her last name, and go live that long, stable family life he always dreamt of.

Steve then returns to post-post-Thanos time after ten seconds instead of five while Bruce is fiddling with his connections and no one notices.

When Bucky turns around after listening to Sam talk to Elder Steve, he sees Steve the Original.

Elder Steve tells everyone to call him Grant from then on, for the sake of anonymity. Sam keeps the shield. Steve and Bucky have a real conversation that lasts more than two lines and hug like they mean it.

Steve happily retires. When Sam and Bucky aren't off avenging, they visit this off-the-grid cabin in the woods where Steve and Sharon now reside.

No timeline paradox interference weirdness happens, because it didn't matter at all the whole movie to have two of the same person in one timeline. They stay out of each other's way, and no one's the wiser about ol' Grandpa Grant.

That help at all?

[griseldabanks]

Cutting Hair

Comfyvember Cheat Sheet

July 2017

“Hey, Buck, you want a trim?” Steve asked, running his hand through the shaggy brown hair that fell halfway down his back.

“What, and mess up the mullet he's rocking?” Sam laughed over his coffee.

Bucky gave him a blank look. “What's a mullet?”

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Sam walked over and put his hands on Bucky's shoulders. “Bucky...just thank your lucky stars you were asleep for the '80s.”

Bucky swatted his hands away. “They woke me up a few times in the '80s. It just wasn't for fashion advice.”

Steve glanced at him carefully, as if he'd be able to see a glint of Brad in his eyes, a shadow of his past coming back to haunt him. But Bucky was smirking at Sam, so he relaxed.

In short order, they had the kitchen cleaned and set up as an impromptu barber shop. Wrapping a towel around Bucky's shoulders, Steve got to work combing Bucky's hair, enlisting Jake's help with the spray bottle. Jake got a little too enthusiastic at times, and Steve had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at Bucky's expression when he got a faceful of water.

Next, after Bucky confirmed he wanted shoulder-length hair again, Steve started snipping away while Sam kept up a steady stream of banter. “Don't you have somewhere to be?” Bucky asked at one point, rolling his eyes at him.

“Nope!” Sam grinned, rocking back in his chair.

Steve shook his head at the two of them. As he continued to cut Bucky's hair, he reflected on the last time he'd cut Bucky's hair—over a year ago, before Peggy's funeral. Before Rikers. So much had changed since then.

Bucky only had one arm now. He bore some new scars, and in some ways the weight on his shoulders seemed lighter, but in other ways it seemed heavier. Sam was always the same—but he'd also been through a lot. And then there was Jake, sitting on the floor and gathering up tufts of brown hair.

He remembered the first time he'd cut Jake's hair after they'd brought him home. He'd sat so rigid and stiff in his chair, watching Steve's every movement in the mirror as if afraid he'd suddenly stab him with the scissors. Now he didn't even bother glancing at them, because he knew he was perfectly safe with all of them.

Jake straightened up, turning to them and holding a handful of Bucky's hair clippings under his nose. “Look, Daddy! I got me a mustache!”

They all laughed.

[griseldabanks]

Sleeping on the Couch

Comfyvember Cheat Sheet

August 2017

Bucky lay on the couch, not quite dozing but not fully awake either. All energy seemed to have been sapped from his body, so all he could manage to do was stare blankly across at the dark TV.

Three panic attacks in one day. And all for stupid reasons. He hadn't been so on edge for a long, long time. He was supposed to have better coping mechanisms now, wasn't he? That's what the meds were for, the therapy sessions....

I told you it was no use.

Shuddering, Bucky closed his eyes. He didn't want to have to look at Brad's gloating face. Not now. Not when he didn't have the strength to push back at all.

Someone touched his shoulder, and he flinched. But when he opened his eyes, he saw it was only Steve, so he let his eyes fall shut again.

Gently, Steve lifted him just enough so he could sit on the couch, letting Bucky's head rest against his thigh. One hand rested on Bucky's chest, the other brushed Bucky's greasy hair off his forehead.

Before Bucky could decide how he felt about this, someone lifted his feet as well. Bucky cracked an eye open to find Sam sitting on the other end of the couch, settling Bucky's bare feet in his lap.

He waited for Sam to scold him, to say something like This is why we don't forget to take our meds for a whole week. He waited for Steve to sigh in disappointment, to give him a serious talking-to about how much he'd scared all of them, or what a bad example he was for Jake.

But neither of them said a word. Sam set about massaging Bucky's feet, exactly the way Bucky liked it. And Steve just kept running his fingers through Bucky's hair, gently untangling the knots and running his fingers along Bucky's scalp.

He wanted to beg them to stop. They were so good to him—too good. Over and over again, this was how they treated him. Infinite understanding and forgiveness, even when all three of them knew that Bucky knew better. That he should have acted better.

But he said nothing. He told himself it was because it would simply take too much effort to find the words. He was so tired, weary down to his bones, too tired to even scrounge up basic courtesy.

But the truth was even worse. Somewhere deep down, deeper than thought...he'd been hoping this was what they'd do. Clearly, he knew them well enough, and he'd been right, because here they were...but how dare he expect such good treatment from them, after everything he'd done?

So selfish, Brad whispered, quiet in the presence of the others but still there, always there, reminding him that he was so self-absorbed, like a child throwing a tantrum just for attention—

“Hey, Buck?” Steve murmured, patting him softly on the chest. “If Brad's talking to you right now, he's lying.”

Only when Bucky's eyes popped open did he realize tears were beginning to trickle down his cheeks. He blinked, looking up at Steve, who bent over him with a small, sad smile filled with understanding, sympathy....

He clutched Steve's hand as hard as he could, pulling it up so he could press his lips to Steve's knuckles. “Thank you,” he whispered as Brad's voice trailed away to silence.

Maybe that was partly due to the medication finally working its way into his system. But he was pretty sure it was mostly because of those kind, caring hands soothing away the pain until he could gently drift off to sleep.

[griseldabanks]

Surprise Party

Comfyvember Cheat Sheet

July 2017

Steve looked up in surprise at the knocking on the front door. He looked over at Bucky, straightening up from where he'd sat slumped against Steve's shoulder, but Bucky just shrugged. When Sam had offered to take Jake with him while he ran errands, Steve had been looking forward to an hour or two of peace and quiet with Bucky. They both loved having Jake home again after he'd spent the first few days since the trial with Sharon, but he ended up demanding the bulk of their attention most of the time, simply by dint of being five years old. Steve cherished every chance he got to keep Bucky all to himself.

The knocking continued insistently. Steve got up somewhat reluctantly; they'd barely even sat down on the couch. But it must be one of the building's tenants. Maybe there was some urgent need, and Sam was running errands, so Steve would need to take care of it. There went his afternoon...but that was selfish. He shouldn't think like that. He and Bucky had nothing but time.

Steve opened the door and had a moment to register with some confusion that it was Sam who'd been knocking when the hallway exploded with cries of, “Surprise!”

It wasn't just Sam standing in the doorway, hand-in-hand with Jake. Sharon was also there, and Leyla. They were all wearing party hats, and started clapping as soon as he opened the door. Jake blew a noisemaker over and over.

Something touched his head, and Steve turned to find Bucky clumsily pulling the string of a party hat under Steve's chin with one hand. He was already wearing one of his own, as well as a sheepish grin.

“Wh-What's all this?”

“Ah, look, he's already going senile!” Sam said, pushing past him with a shake of his head. He carried a paper bag over to the table and pulled out a cake carrier.

“Well, what do you expect?” Leyla said, following him with more bags. “He is a hundred years old.”

“All things considered, he's in pretty good shape,” Sharon chimed in, giving him a quick kiss on her way to the living room with armfuls of wrapped presents.

Jake tugged on his hand. “Daddy, Uncle Sam says it's your birfday today,” he said, eyes shining like it was the greatest secret.

Steve let out a laugh. “I guess it is!” He'd been so focused on the trial, and then bringing Bucky home at last, he hadn't spared a single thought for the passage of time or how swiftly his birthday was approaching. He could barely even keep track of what day of the week it was, when the only thing occupying his mind was reconnecting with his best friend.

Jake skipped off to the kitchen to watch the others preparing for the veritable feast Sam had brought upstairs. Sam was already stirring something on the stove, Leyla uncovering several bowls on the counter while Sharon set the table. All of them chattering and laughing. Like a real family.

A hand on his back reminded him that Bucky still stood at his side. “Guess we'll get to see fireworks tonight, huh, pal?”

Steve looked over at him, heart so full he was sure it would burst. Last year, Steve had still been reeling from the realization that it wouldn't be a short and simple matter to bring Bucky home. All he'd had to look forward to was a brief phone call from the jail. But now....

He slung his arm around Bucky's shoulders. “The best birthday present,” he murmured. Bucky's gaze met his, and they both knew they weren't talking about fireworks.

[griseldabanks]

Take Me In book trailer!

That's right, folks! The time is almost upon us! I'm planning to start posting the giant Captain America fic I never shut up about on May 3, 2024.

If you haven't read any of my Whole Shards series, or want a refresher before the latest installment begins, feel free to check it out now!

Please reblog and/or send to anyone you know who might be interested, and I hope to see you there ;)

[griseldabanks]

How about 38 for Sam and Bucky?

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

Prompt: "Stay with me for a while."

Note: I already filled this prompt for Kara and Alice, so I decided this would just be another scene tacked onto the last thing I wrote involving Sam and Bucky.

BOOM.

Rat-a-tat-tat.

Boom. BOOM.

Whizz, bang, rat-a-tat-tat-tat.

“Riley! Riley, no, look out—“

Riley turning his head. Their eyes meeting in a flash of brilliant white light. An arc of lightning, stabbing downward.

Not Riley. Steve. Steve, suspended in the air for a moment, arms outstretched, then tumbling down, down, down....

“No!”

Sam jerked upright, his own scream still echoing in his ears. Where. Where was he, which way was up, where was Steve, he was falling, Sam had to catch him, but where were his wings, he was falling—

With a thump, he crashed to the ground. But it wasn't sand or dirt or stone, it was...soft. Carpet.

He threw a hand out, and it smacked painfully against something wooden. He groped in the darkness. A bed. Blankets spilling over the side, tangled around his legs.

Oh. A dream.

A white flash lit up the whole room in an instant, followed immediately by a deafening crash that made him jump out of his skin. Heart pounding, adrenaline screaming through his veins, he raised trembling hands to press against his eyes.

It didn't help. All he saw, projected against the inside of his eyelids like a movie, was Steve. One moment walking towards him, drenched from the rain, a goat cradled in his strong arms. A blinding flash, and he was flat on the ground. Not moving. Not breathing.

With a curse, Sam surged to his feet and marched out of his room, letting the door bang against the wall. He headed into the living room, trying to ground himself in the present. He wasn't in Afghanistan. He wasn't out there in the fields with a storm howling around them. He was in an apartment in Birnin Zana, provided to them while they waited for Steve to get a clean bill of health.

Right. Because Steve wasn't dead. Sam had saved him. He was alive, he was fine. They'd taken him to the hospital as soon as the lightning died down, and the doctors thought he was out of danger, but wanted to keep him under observation that night. And so he and Bucky had reluctantly come to this apartment, with every assurance that they'd be the first to know if anything happened.

Another flash of lightning broke Sam's train of thought, and he flinched again as thunder rumbled so loudly he could hear the glasses in the kitchen cupboard rattling against each other. Sam paced up and down a bare stretch of floor between the living room and kitchen, trying to breathe but failing abysmally.

Because what if something had happened? What if something was happening right now, what if Steve was flatlining and the doctors were rushing to him and no one had called them yet because they were too busy and it wasn't like Sam would be able to do anything just like always and yet again his brother would die and he would be helpless and alone and—

“Sam?”

The lights turned on in a sudden blaze that made Sam jump...but they remained on, a steady amber glow so different from the lightning. In the doorway to the other bedroom, hand still touching the light switch, stood Bucky. He'd changed out of his Wakandan robes and into sweatpants and a T-shirt. His missing arm looked weirder that way.

Another crash of thunder. Sam's nerves were too frazzled to even attempt to hide the flinch.

Bucky just looked at him, expression not changing. Then he walked over to the coffee table, pulled off his bracelet of kimoyo beads, and tapped one of them. A holographic image appeared in the air over the table, of what looked like a cardiograph. A red line moved smoothly through the center of the image, spiking up at regular intervals every second or so. A heartbeat at rest.

“Is that...?”

“Real time,” Bucky said, understanding Sam's breathless question. He sat down on the couch, gazing at the heart monitor. “He's asleep.”

Sam found himself sinking down onto the other end of the couch, swiping a hand down his sweaty face. He focused on trying to draw a deep breath without gasping. It was easier now he could watch Steve's heartbeat.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching those steady spikes. Sam timed his breaths in and out to those beats, until three beats passed before each inhale and exhale. His own heart rate was still faster than Steve's, but it wasn't galloping along like it had before.

Glancing over, Sam noticed that Bucky seemed to be doing the same thing. Focused on the same rhythm, they were breathing in tandem. Looked like Steve was still keeping them all in sync, even asleep and out of sight.

Then he looked at Bucky a little closer and noticed the exhausted furrows in Bucky's brow, the way his eyelids drooped. “You slept at all?” he muttered.

Bucky shook his head, not taking his eyes from the heart monitor.

“You should,” Sam said automatically. Old habits died hard.

“Tried,” Bucky said. “Just ended up watching this instead. Kind of like it used to be...back when he'd get sick all the time. I'd sit by his bed and just watch him breathe. It was like...if I closed my eyes, he might slip away. So I stayed awake.”

Sam nodded. It was usually hard to imagine Steve had ever been skinny and weak like in the old pictures...but on a night like this, when he couldn't stop thinking about Steve lying spread-eagled on the ground, not breathing....

Another crack of thunder. Sam flinched, but made himself take a deep breath and keep watching Steve's heartbeat.

“Is that because of what happened today?”

Sam looked over and found Bucky watching him. There was no judgment in his expression, only understanding. Of all people, Bucky knew exactly what it was like to deal with panic attacks and bad nightmares.

Then Sam realized he'd never told Bucky about Riley. He'd told Steve early on, but they didn't talk about it much; the subject was too painful. And even after Bucky had become a part of Sam's life, there were few occasions where the two of them were alone and in need of filling the silence. Once he'd discovered the difficulty Sam had with thunderstorms, Steve usually made an effort to distract Sam on nights like this.

But now Steve was in the hospital, asleep and out of reach. And the only one here was Bucky.

With a heavy sigh, Sam slumped back against the couch cushions. “I wasn't the only one chosen for the Falcon Program,” he finally said. If Bucky was confused at this apparent change of subject, he didn't say anything. “Riley was with me from the beginning, and he was the only other one who didn't drop out for one reason or another during training. We just...clicked, you know? Did everything together, even when we were off duty. He was like...like....” He tried to say it, but the words jumbled together in his throat, and he couldn't even swallow. Usually, it wasn't this hard. It had been years. But tonight...it was like he'd had to say goodbye only yesterday.

“Like a brother?” Bucky's voice filled the silence ringing in Sam's ears, and somehow he could breathe again.

Nodding, Sam closed his eyes to shut out the flashes of light behind the curtains at the window. He tried to remember Riley's smile, his laugh. It was probably just because of the late hour and his lack of sleep, but all he could see in his mind's eye was Bucky beaming as he ran over to greet them. All he could hear was Steve's belly laugh as they played with the kids in the village.

“What happened?” Bucky asked quietly.

Clearing his throat, Sam opened his eyes and stared fixedly at the heart monitor. “They sent us to Afghanistan. We did some good work there. Made a great team. Just Riley and me, saving lives. Saving each other. All we'd ever wanted to do. And then it was over.” The pain in his chest wasn't as insistent as it had been in the early days, but it still dug down just as deep. He thought he'd rather have one of the Dora Milaje stab him with one of their spears.

“It was a night mission. Nothing special. Just...he went left when he shoulda gone right. And then he was gone. And I couldn't....” His throat closed again, and he had to bite his lip to keep it from trembling.

“I'm sorry,” Bucky whispered.

He didn't say anything else. There was nothing else to say, really. But Sam appreciated it more than he could express.

The silence between them was easy as they sat there, not looking at each other. The thunder moved on. The lightning died down. The catch in Sam's chest steadily eased, until he could breathe deeply again, and his heart rate was almost as slow as Steve's.

Sam yawned so wide he could feel his jaw crack. After all the excitement of the day before, and then the sickening rush of adrenaline from the panic attack, he felt completely spent. Everything ached, crying out for the bed in the next room...but would he sleep? Or would he just lie there, staring into the darkness and trying not to think about the dream?

“Guess we should go back to bed,” Bucky mumbled, pushing himself to his feet. “Steve will bite our heads off if we pull an all-nighter.”

“Wait!” The word fell from Sam's lips before he realized he'd opened his mouth, and his cheeks grew warm as Bucky turned around in surprise. Sam looked away and mumbled, “Stay with me for a while.”

For a moment, he thought Bucky was going to laugh at him. But all he did was sit back down—not where he'd been sitting before, but right next to Sam, so close their legs jostled against each other.

Bucky's right shoulder pressed against his left—solid, warm, real. Not like the nightmares. Not like the memories. He wouldn't fade away as soon as Sam reached for him.

Right now, that was all he cared about.

[griseldabanks]

Uh...I have the vaguest sense that someone hit me with a Calvinball or tagged me in a last-line type of WIP game, but at the time I couldn't fill it because I was super busy and/or writing something majorly spoilery. But now it's been so long that I don't remember what it was or who tagged me. Probably @kraytwriter or @rainintheevening, or maybe @dairogo? Whatever, consider all of yourselves tagged, and here's the last two paragraphs I've written:

“Just take a deep breath, man.” Sam's brow was furrowed, but for some reason, his concern seemed very far away. Logically, Steve understood it, but he couldn't really feel it. He was at the end of a long, dark tunnel, the sounds of the world beyond echoing strangely in his ears, but he wasn't a part of it. Then Steve's gaze found Bucky, who turned around in his chair to look at them. Steve took a deep breath and stepped out of that tunnel. Because that was what Bucky needed him to do now.