[for Steve] who will wield the shield?

[onlyapassenger]

The sheer amount of ordnance Bucky has managed to acquire in the months since his arrival is, perhaps, startling. Though he'd shown up with nothing but a combat knife to his name, sometimes it paid to be the victim of the island's crueler tricks. Though he hadn't much appreciated the reminder of the time, getting saddled with all of his Winter

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[onlyforthedream]

There's a lot to be read in Bucky's expression, and on top of everything I'm carrying with me from my conversation (if it can really be called that) with Tony, it's almost too much. There are too many feelings at war inside me, the weight of the shield in my hands their catalyst, and I stop walking.

I'm not the only one the shield is important to, that's always been true. But it's never been true like this.

"You tell me," I say, and with the practiced ease of years, a gesture so natural it no longer requires thought, I throw the shield to Bucky.

[onlyapassenger]

There's no chance to act on anything but instinct. The shield hasn't been Bucky's for nearly as long, and he hasn't handled it in months, but he'd trained hard to be able to use it as effortlessly as its original owner. It's with an ease that belies those endless hours that he catches it with his freer hand, the cloth sandwiched between his palm and the shield's familiar edge

[onlyforthedream]

He pulls it out of the air like it's the most natural thing in the world. It's strange to watch.

"Tony Stark's basement."

[onlyapassenger]

He can't have heard right; Bucky clings to the thought like a lifeline, trying not to drown in the sudden rush of anger that engulfs him. Even so, his grip on the shield tightens, the knuckles of his right hand turning white.

"Come again?"