Skipping his next to last day of classes is pretty pointless as far as rebellion goes, but Jason doesn't care, he'll take it.
He'd left the hut that morning with an extra burst of speed, one hint of a female voice on the other side of Bucky's door enough to tell him that Bucky was too occupied to care what direction he took off in, and so, when
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"I remember when this came out," I say.
"We were already in Europe. I never saw it." I come around to stand by the arm rest, looking from the screen to Jason, the state of his cast and his expression.
"You okay?"
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With a scowl that's faint by Jason's standards, he returns, "Are you?"
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"I'm fine. In better shape than that cast of yours."
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"And it doesn't hurt, so..." Looking up, Jason gives up on whatever excuse he'd been about to make and just blurts, "You're not going to talk about it either, are you?"
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"Talk about what, Jason?" I ask, but even as I do I realize he has to have put it together. He watches Bucky too closely not to.
"What happened between me and Bucky?"
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It's not his fault. As self-loathing as Jason can be at times, the fact that Steve and Bucky fought isn't his fault, and he knows it. But he asked Steve to press, asked him to make Bucky talk about what happened in Russia because if he wouldn't talk about it to Jason, he'd surely talk about it with Steve, but he hasn't. They hit each other instead.
"Why'd you fight?"
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"Remember when I told you it was difficult to make Bucky do anything? Talking isn't the easiest thing for him, and I am... at least as stubborn as he is. There's a lot on the table, a lot of history, and we're neither of us certain how to parse it out. But things are fine between us, Jason," I reassure him. If I'm honest, not only him.
"Better now, actually."
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"Okay," he says, accepting it even if he doesn't understand it. "Is that gonna happen every time you want to talk?"
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"Yeah," he says, finally. "Me too. He seems better though, sometimes." Since Natalia showed up, at least until that truth shit followed. As welcome a reprieve it'd been from wondering what they were doing behind Bucky's closed door, it was a relief to see Bucky come home again. "Now that his girlfriend's here."
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"She's a good friend," I can say honestly, despite the place we were at the last time I saw her before the island.
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His face splits in a sudden grin. "Really hot." Jason already thought Bucky hung the moon - with a girlfriend like that, Bucky's now without doubt the coolest person Jason will ever, ever know. "Do you have a girl back home, too?"
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"I wouldn't call her a girl," I say, absently thumbing the corner of the canvas sketchbook, still in hand, and digging it into my knee.
"I was with someone. As much as we could be 'with' each other given... extenuating circumstances."
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"We couldn't exactly share our lives the way you want to, when someone means that much."
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"But she could show up here," he says. "Bucky's did."
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