experienceandpatience

"He started making his own bread." That's apparently the benchmark or a sign that Oeznik might be going crazy, for Bucky. There's nothing wrong with his bread and the house smells amazing when he does it, but also, there's nothing wrong with the dollar loaf you can get from a place like walmart, and this artisan stuff seems a little overkill to him.

"Well if you're comfortable in your new clothes, we can walk around a little more. Enjoy the day out." It's not snowing right now and who knows what tomorrow will bring? If Zemo's uncomfortable though, Bucky can take them home and just throw everything into the wash, and they can lounge around at home for a little while and try to forget about this mess they're in.

"Baking is what concerns you?" That amusement lingers on Zemo's face, lips curled up. It is good bread, even if a bit extravagant all the time. He's not entirely certain it's a mark of insanity either.

"We can walk." He's fine-- mostly. Clothes are clothes, and even if he gets cold, Bucky is right there to wedge himself up against if he needs to... Bucky will just have to accept that will be his role on this little outing.

"It's nice to be out and not have to worry too much... and it would be a shame to waste it."

"He spent ten minutes trying to explain to me the importance of a good sourdough starter. Ten. Minutes. Helmut. He sounded like 70% Zola, 30% Gordon-- whoever." Bucky certainly didn't seem to notice that little slip of the tongue as he just furrows his eyebrows at Zemo and gestures by waving his fork around a bit while he talks.

"He binned the whole thing when the crust didn't turn out right and then he just stared at me when I ate his whole perfectly good loaf out of the garbage can." Because that makes Oeznik the crazy one, and not Bucky 'I starved through the 30s and being a prisoner of war and all I got was this lousy permanent brain damage' Barnes.

You know, Bucky's also noticed that Zemo likes leeching body heat from him. He hasn't said anything about it, and he honestly doesn't mind, but he does think that Zemo runs a little cold. That's why he's got the fur coat and the turtlenecks and maybe they should get him more thermal wear or something, keep him warm.

"Nowhere too crazy. Maybe we can go to the other mall, do a few rounds. You might see something else you like."

Helmut certainly gets his attention. Not in a bad way. He doesn't think anyone around them would know or care who Helmut is besides that being a potentially strange name for a woman. And besides, seeing Bucky so animated over bread and baking is rather amusing.

"Oh, James--" He wrinkles his nose. "You ate it out of the trash?"

No wonder Oeznik likes to call him the American Pig. "When I was young, I would spend much of my free time with Oeznik, and occasionally I was successful in convincing him to bake sweets for me. It isn't the first time I've seen him through out a batch of something not to his liking or sat through a lecture on the importance of doing things properly. Perhaps that's why my father always liked him."

Although Zemo also had the sense to not eat out of the garbage, of course. He can't quite relate to that one.

And why on earth would he need thermal clothing when he has a perfectly good human heater to wrap around? That hardly seems necessary.

"You're spoiling me today, James," he teases lightly. "I may get used to it."

"There was nothing else in there, and the bread came out perfectly fine." Because Oeznik obsessively empties it, also to deter Steve from poking around in there or tipping it over and making a mess when he's in a playful mood. Of course he wasn't expecting to also have to deal with the other man-shaped feral animal in the house.

It's just as well he hasn't started making sweets for Bucky. He has a hard enough time getting rid of the American when he's cooking already. Sweets would just make him a semi-permanent feature hovering around Oeznik like a persistent fly until he gets fed.

"We both want you to be happy." And free, obviously, although there's only so much they can do to preserve that. But anyway, happiness would involve spoiling Zemo from time to time. Bucky's okay with it. And Oeznik might or might not be subtly encouraging Bucky to keep indulging the baron.

"There was still garbage in there at one time..." Even if it had recently been emptied. At least Steve has the excuse of being an animal and not knowing better...

Although it's hard to be too judgmental when Bucky says stuff like that though. It isn't often Zemo is speechless at all, or caught off guard. He knows that Oeznik would rather him be happy -- the man has been at his side since he was a child, has watched and helped him grow into the man he is now. But to hear Bucky earnestly wants him to be happy as well, despite everything... he's not entirely certain how to respond to that.

"James..." He nudges a toe against the other man's leg under the table. "I wonder how I went from a name in your notebook to someone you-- care about."

"I-- don't like wasting food." Or, well, he has weird hangups about it, likely a relic of some unresolved trauma around unintentional and intentional scarcity. Rationally he knows he's not going to starve again - at least, not while he's around Zemo and Oeznik - but there's so many uncertainties that they're pointedly not talking about in their current situation. Bucky doesn't like throwing away his old clothes either.

"I care about every name in the notebook." It's just that he wants to take care of some of them with a gun and he wants to take care of the others with honest confessions. It's not a hitman's list of names of people to bury.

"I don't-- I don't think what you did is right." He used to sound a lot more certain about this, but it's testament to Zemo's silver tongue that Bucky seems increasingly doubtful. "But I don't think anyone stopped to think about what they put you through, either. And I'm. I'm done, being the guy who hurts other people all the time. I just want to be..." Bucky fidgets a bit, wringing his hands, hiding metal and bandages under those gloves, touching his wedding ring.

"...someone better."

Well, it isn't like Sokovia was a thriving country. Scarcity happened rather often... so maybe he can understand the inclination. But Bucky will not starve as long as he's around. Hardly necessary to dig for food.

As for the rest, he's quiet again, thoughtful. "If it is any consolation... I don't think it was right. Necessary, yes. But I hurt innocents to do it. I don't take pleasure in that and I do... regret some of it."

King T'Chaka, in particular. But simply because he regrets it doesn't mean he'd change it either. It's-- complicated. "Do you think you've managed it, James? To be someone better?"

"No." But, there's being better than the man he was yesterday, and then there's thinking about all the ways he's not and he will never be like Steve. Even if he woke up one day free from all these shackles, he would still be selfish, and angry, and more inclined to want to be left alone somewhere no one else can find him than do the right, heroic, sacrificial thing and make himself a martyr.

He'll never be better, if he thinks of it that way. But at some point, he's pretty sure he'll reach a stage where he's just 'good enough'. And that should be good enough for him, too.

"But I'm trying." And, in his own selfish way, Zemo is helping him too.

"I think you've done well." Better than Zemo had initially given him credit for, certainly. Or ever expected of him. Zemo shifts forward after a moment, reaching across the table to rest a hand on top of Bucky's lightly.

"I'm fortunate, being able to see how you've grown... and hopefully, it's something I can continue to see for a while yet." Hopefully he's not put back into a cage anytime soon.

His hands still once Zemo touches him, and he glances up, managing a small smile. It's a small encouragement that might not have meant much to Zemo, but progress feels difficult for him, and any positive sign is one he will happily take and mentally squirrel away to mull over later.

"I'm not going anywhere." He made vows. Vows that mattered, to the both of them, and even if Zemo doesn't remember them, he would know roughly the gist of how those vows might have went. Bucky turns his hand over, curling his fingers under Zemo's, brushing his thumb over the backs of Zemo's fingers and letting his touch linger until their mains are served.

Squid ink pasta really lives up to its name. The noodles are a terrifying glossy black colour. Bucky doesn't seem too fazed though, but, you know, considering he'd eat out of the trash...

He smiles at that promise. It's one he shouldn't expect Bucky to keep, but-- he believes he's being earnest. More so now than other times. Bucky seems to take the whole-- marriage thing very seriously. Or at least the vows.

... And Zemo doesn't want to hear any complaints about strange food again after hearing about the trash adventure. It is a bit amusing that Bucky would go with the squid ink pasta while he chose a simple carbonara for himself. Quite a shift, this go around.

But Bucky doesn't seem to have any issues eating it down. "Have you ever had that sort of pasta before?"

Zemo will assume not.

Zemo likely didn't hear about the trash adventure because Oeznik was so traumatised he blocked it out of his mind - and also he thought Zemo might have an aneurysm. It might have reflected poorly on him as a butler also to have their house guest - okay, maybe no longer a guest after all this time. Zemo's new wife, then? - eating out of the actual garbage bag.

"...no." It tastes weird, if he's honest. Sweet-salty-seafoody-garlicky and it's not that it's not nice but it's new and weird in his mouth to have these complex flavours that are too many steps up from mac and cheese. But the chef could have thrown the dish on the floor and stomped on it and served it to Bucky and he'd have no idea if this is what it's meant to taste or look like.

"D'you wanna try some? I think it's okay."

Oeznik probably is questioning Zemo just as much as Bucky - he did marry the man shameless enough to eat out of the trash, really. What does that say about him?

"Oh, I've had it before... I'm simply enjoying watching you eat it." Not that Bucky is overly picky about his food, but it is amusing to see what reactions flit across his face.

"I suppose a bite wouldn't hurt. Would you like some of mine?" It is a rather tame dish by comparison...

Look if Zemo was going on the run and he had absolutely no access to any money, he'd be eating out of the trash too. It wouldn't be all sunshine and roses or anything like it is now. Both of them should stop judging him.

"So you wouldn't enjoy watching me eat pizza?" Bucky asks with a raised eyebrow. Yes, he's making funny faces while eating his squid ink pasta, confused and licking his lips and pensive and back to confused all over again. Pizza's probably messy, too. He'd never use cutlery.

"Sure." He nudges his plate of squid ink pasta closer towards the centre of the table and takes a forkful of carbonara while he's at it. Figures Zemo would pick something with bacon. It is a tamer choice but Bucky can't say if he prefers one over the other. Maybe he'd pick the carbonara solely because of the familiarity of it. But he's content with the squid ink, much to his own confusion.

"...I thought I'd hate it." It's weird to just be okay with new and different things.

Ah, but fortunately that's unlikely to happen any time soon. No eating out of the trash or sleeping in dark alleys for them.

"You can order one if you want, but I've seen you eat pizza many times." And it is always a messy affair.

And of course Zemo would zero in on bacon. Bucky can't deny him his comfort food in these trying times, can he? At least he didn't load up on espresso as well.

"It's fine to just not hate something. You still tried something different."

"It's okay. I'll finish this." In case Zemo wants to drag him along to some fancy tea shop later - not that he thinks they'll find one in Wyoming of all places, but you never know. He won't complain he's full and doesn't want to eat if he doesn't order three mains every time they go out.

"What if I like you? I mean, like this..." Bucky finds the prospect of it a bit unsettling. He feels like he wants to be told he can only like certain things or certain people in a certain way. Even though that's what kept him emotionally distant from Zemo for so long at the start, when he was still prone to sleeping on the floor every single night and unwilling to accept intervention or help for his nightmares.

They're at least going to get a coffee or tea at the mall -- there should be a place. Maybe not quite fancy though. It will do.

If the next question catches him off guard, Zemo doesn't try to show it. There's a curious tilt to his head. "As a woman, you mean?"

'Like this' could hold quite a few implications, considering the nature of their talks over this meal. But going with the easiest assumption-- "The thought crossed my mind that perhaps you wouldn't."

And could he blame him? It's a rather... big change. "I'd rather you like me, all things considered."

"I don't know. I..." Bucky does that thing with his mouth again, whenever he's uncertain. Chews his bottom lip, licks nervously, averts his gaze, tries to glimpse, looks away again, more nervous flicks of the tip of his tongue--

"As a woman, yes. I just--" This is going to be something Zemo will complain is old fashioned, which is why Bucky is hesitant to speak his mind.

"I fffeel like I just know what I'm supposed to do. If I'm your husband. And you're my wife." Which is not to say that he normally doesn't know what he's doing or trying to absolve himself of any responsibility and just let Zemo drive everything. But they've always had such a hard time defining what they are to each other, what they mean to each other, the lengths they would go to maintain this untenable relationship, it just--

It's so much simpler to Bucky if they fit in these neat little predefined boxes that other people have laid out the ground rules for over the generations that have come before them.

There's going to be old fashioned notions in a man who's over a hundred years old, he supposes. Especially one who has been on ice for large portions of it. It always shows itself in stark, surprising ways, Zemo's noticed. Notions he may expect from Oeznik or older generations coming from young appearing lips.

Sometimes it's amusing, sometimes it's annoying. Zemo isn't certain how to feel about this. He can at least-- understand somewhat. It had been so much easier with his wife to settle into a relationship, to be the loving husband and happy family man. He isn't quite certain it's to do with predefined roles or expectations, or simply the fact he hadn't known loss quite like he does now.

Putting time and love and dedication into someone else only to be left alone at the end with all the could have been's and guilt sitting heavy on his shoulders nearly killed him once.

Either way-- "Our vows were the same, as your wife or your husband. All those pretty little promises like to love and cherish until death parts us."

Does it really make it so much easier if Zemo is a woman? Perhaps it does. At least there's no outright complaining or judgement, just that same curiosity. "What are you supposed to do, James? Out of curiosity."

Bucky just shrugs at that, the way he gets uncomfortable about talking while poking at his pasta, twirling some of it in his fork with no intention of eating it just yet, letting the strands slide and fall away as he turns the fork the other direction now.

"I'm supposed to protect you." And he will, either way. He will do all the husbandly things either way, and not necessarily because they got married either. They were just-- always like this even before Zemo put a ring on it.

"I'll drive you everywhere and, get you nice things and-- I'll hold you anywhere, anytime, especially if you're not feeling well or feeling cold or. Broke a heel, maybe? I don't know." Bucky shrugs again. Zemo doesn't always appreciate being coddled and Bucky doesn't know what he's supposed or allowed to do with a husband. "Maybe you'll just. Let me do things for you without biting my head off."

That's actually... very sweet. And not in the taunting way he's used it in the past when Bucky has bought him more time from Wakandans or stood in front of him when he's said one word too many and a fight's broken out because of it.

As sweet as it is, it's also caught him a bit off guard in the way that only Bucky seems able, somehow worming under every preconceived notion Zemo has of him and reminding him that he doesn't quite know everything the way that he tends to in other situations. It's never the sort of being proven wrong that makes him angry though, never disappoints him.

"James," he starts quietly, a smile twitching at his lips that's more sincere than usual. His hand creeps across the table to cover Bucky's, even if it's the vibranium one.

"You must have been quite the charmer back in your day." At least he's doing a fair job of making Zemo nearly swoon in ways he hasn't in a very long time.

"I'll certainly make an effort to be better tempered. I-- want to take care of you as well, James. I want to give you nice things and I want to show you new experiences. After everything, I think you deserve kindness."

Particularly when Zemo hadn't shown any at all in the beginning. He probably doesn't show it all the time now either, not the way he should. "When we first left together, none of this was... what I planned on. I've felt like a dead man walking for so long, it was unsettling when that started to change, when I realized I didn't want to die if it meant leaving you alone. Part of me felt-- guilty for it as well."

And he still does, on some level. It feels like letting his family down all over again in a way he can at least recognize isn't rational. "Being in love with my wife had been easy. It hadn't come with the same worries because I was foolish enough to think I could protect her from anything. I know better than that now. So being in love with you... I find myself often wondering when and how it will end, and if you'll be fine at the end of it all. But that isn't any way to live, is it?"

Waiting for the other shoe to drop, always expecting the worse. Although admitting to anything like love so plainly may have cemented awkwardness happening. They don't use that word. "I'd rather be happy with whatever time we do have."

A pause. "And I think I'd like to get the check soon. The table between us is posing a bit of a problem at the moment." He'd maybe like to take Bucky up on that being held offer, that's all.

He wasn't necessarily sweet, back in the day. He was social, outgoing, loved the parties, enjoyed the company, but he never really thought about finding the one girl he could settle down with. That was always going to be something that would happen after the war. After the war, when he came home, and then he could worry about a stable job, a stable marriage, a stable home. Until then, there was no need to make any commitments, no need for sappy promises.

Well, after the war never happened, but this is still familiar to him. This is what he was supposed to do, according to-- well, everyone. His vibranium hand reacts almost as if he could feel Zemo's touch, fingers lifting off the surface of the table before drumming back down again. To be fair, Zemo has been far more even-tempered than Bucky has. Maybe he's just better at internalising his frustrations, and somehow Bucky thinks that's something to aspire to. At least, he thinks it's better than being mercurial, prone to snapping. Although he doesn't make a habit of pushing Zemo's buttons to see exactly how much he can annoy him before making him snap, so, maybe Bucky's not all to blame for being unable to rein those occasional outbursts in.

He doesn't think he deserves any nice things, but there's something about the promise of it, that there's so much more to life than what he's seen and done over these past few years that makes him feel a little optimistic in ways that he is quick to try and quash down in case they never come to fruition.

"You've always kept your cool, dealt with everything by yourself. Even if-- we weren't married, you can. Talk to me, you know." But now that they are married, that's even more reason to talk. "I mean, you talk a lot, but. You don't say much, in the end." Even if it looks like Bucky is just glaring at him or staring off into the distance, even if he doesn't have any advice to give or replies with nothing more than a grunt, he is listening. He's always listening, analysing, internalising, processing. Maybe one day he'll get better with the output side of things.

At least, better enough to not feel awkward about the 'L' word. While he certainly hopes that Zemo doesn't think of him as just some kind of burden to look after, the L word is dangerous territory. Even if it's expected for the L word to come up often in a marriage.

"I can't-- let my guard down." He's accepted that he will never be able to be in a headspace that is so comfortable and safe that he won't double-check if doors are locked or visually check the windows and doors twice a minute. There's nothing anyone can do about that. "And I don't know, what will happen, when that time is up. But I can... let you in, more." As in, willingly, and not Zemo trying to brute force his way inside Bucky's head and make himself comfortable.

And, yes. He can also finish his pasta and let Zemo get the check so they can leave soon.

"My wife used to complain about that as well, you know. Not opening up, not talking... I'm afraid it only grew to be more of a habit in solitary. Most didn't care to hear me talk at all, regardless of the topic. Sometimes I spoke regardless, just to keep some semblance of sanity, but never about anything others could use against me." A pause before he gives a shrug of his shoulders.

"Not that I think you would, or that my wife would have. They're still habits, and I can do better in the future." Or try, at least. He can't make more promises than that.

He nods at the offer, accepting. "That's all I ask, James."

Zemo always has a natural inclination to push, and it isn't like to get much better. But he will try to not push so many buttons, all the time. It isn't polite to do to your husband anyway, he supposes.

... But Bucky can expect that the minute they're done with their lunch and out the door, Zemo will be pressing up to him, fitting himself against Bucky as he leans up for a kiss.

It feels like he may have to lean even further up than usual. There's something a little annoying about losing even more height, but it isn't worth ruining the moment over either.

He can imagine most people think Zemo just opening his mouth is dangerous. Bucky doesn't mind listening to Zemo ramble - he actually quite likes his accent and finds the cadence of his voice soothing - but sometimes he has a feeling Zemo uses it to divert and distract rather than actually speak his mind.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But, if you want to. I'm here. That's all." Heaven forbid Zemo try to use that as an excuse to get Bucky to talk more.

One thing that Bucky is definitely much more open to is public displays of affection and that much becomes obvious when he slides his metal arm around behind the small of Zemo's back, holding his new body with strange and interesting curves up against his hard edges, raised thumb rubbing across a couple inches of Zemo's lower back as vibranium fingers curl into bunched up fabric. It doesn't seem to bother him much, tipping his head to the left and leaning down a little more than usual, breathing Zemo in and being a little more mindful not to bite.

"Mmmh..." Man, that cologne. It's enough to make a distracted man forget to keep walking.

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