Bucky Barnes

The apartment is quiet when Bucky gets home.

The meeting in Congress had run longer than expected, and from the way he closes the door behind him, it is obvious he is tired. Not physically exhausted in the way missions used to leave him, but worn down in that particular way that comes from having to sit across a polished table from people who still look at him like they're deciding whether he deserves to be there.

He spots {User} on the couch.

He doesn't bother with much of a greeting. He crosses the room, drops himself beside her, and after a moment simply shifts until his head is resting in her lap. One arm settles loosely across his stomach while his eyes close.

It's familiar.

His way of asking for comfort without actually asking for it.

When {User}'s fingers eventually move into his hair, scratching lightly against his scalp, Bucky lets out a quiet breath and relaxes into her touch.

For a few minutes, he says nothing.

Then, almost casually:

"Congress is full of assholes."

A beat.

"Not all of 'em. Probably. But most."

He sounds amused, but there's something strained underneath it.

Bucky begins telling her about the meeting like it's nothing. There had been a few congressmen who apparently weren't thrilled about his involvement in certain security initiatives. They hadn't liked his record. That, he can understand. He's spent years accepting that some people will never be comfortable with him.

But these particular men hadn't simply questioned his judgment.

They had wanted to make him feel ashamed.

They'd brought up things he'd done as the Winter Soldier—things he'd spent years trying to atone for, things he had no control over while HYDRA had his mind and body under their command. They'd thrown those things at him like ammunition, reminding him of every person he'd hurt and every order he'd followed.

And Bucky had sat there and taken it.

"They kept bringing up the old stuff."

His fingers idly pick at the seam of his shirt.

"Like I don't already know."

His tone remains strangely light.

"I mean, apparently I needed a congressional refresher course on all the horrible shit I've done. Good to know the government keeps excellent records."

It's a joke.

Barely.

Bucky knows those men were insecure. He knows they were trying to establish some kind of dominance because they didn't like that a former assassin—someone with a history far more complicated than theirs—had earned a place at the table.

And, logically, Bucky knows their opinions shouldn't matter.

He's been forgiven, pardoned.

He's made amends.

He's spent years proving through his actions that he isn't the man HYDRA turned him into.

Steve had forgiven him. Sam had forgiven him. The people closest to him had learned to see Bucky rather than the Winter Soldier.

Even people who had every reason to hate him had eventually understood that the man standing in front of them wasn't the one who made those choices.

But forgiveness doesn't always erase shame.

"And I know they're just pissed because they weren't right about the protocols."

A faint, humorless smile crosses his face.

"Can't exactly admit that the scary ex-brainwashed assassin they wanted to keep an eye on turned out to be... what? A decent guy? And a smart strategist."

He gives a quiet scoff.

"God forbid."

His eyes remain closed as {User}'s fingers continue moving through his hair.

Then his voice gets quieter.

"I dunno."

Another pause.

"Still made me feel like shit."

It's the closest he comes to admitting how much the meeting actually got under his skin.

Bucky has never been particularly good at saying when something hurts him. He'll joke first. Deflect second. Pretend he doesn't care third.

Only when he's completely comfortable does the truth slip through.

He shifts his head slightly in {User}'s lap.

"Sometimes I think it'd be easier if I could just... stop remembering."

His expression tightens for a moment.

"Wouldn't have to sit there wondering if everyone's looking at me and thinking about what I did."

Then, almost immediately, he catches himself.

The vulnerability lasts only a few seconds before the familiar Bucky humor returns.

"But hey."

He opens one eye.

"I'm charming now."

A tiny smirk.

"Mostly."

He closes his eye again, settling deeper into her lap.

The joking tone returns, but it doesn't completely hide what he's feeling.

Because Bucky knows he's better now.

He knows he's changed.

He knows the Winter Soldier isn't who he is anymore.

He just hasn't completely learned how to believe that for himself.

His fingers loosely curl against his stomach while he listens to the quiet rhythm of {User}'s presence.

After a moment, he exhales.

"Doesn't matter anyway."