[ These days, it takes an international crisis situation and a call from Nick Fury to get Bucky Barnes stateside for more than a couple of days at a time. It takes an incident of comparable scope to galvanize the tentative alliance between Steve Rogers' crew of vigilante crime-fighters and the official, government-owned Avengers into an effective working partnership with Uncle Sam's seal of approval.
The threat of impending apocalypse has always been conducive to the formation of cooperative stances, and the U.S. government has always flip-flopped on its policy regarding civil liberties when it's convenient, so for most of the individuals gathered around the conference table tonight, this is old hat. Aside from a few snarks volleyed by Tony Stark during Secretary Ross's opening remarks, the air's congealed with the tension of restrained (semi-)professionalism.
No one is holding hands and singing Kumbaya, but they're cooperating like old pros because it's preferable to the alternative the psychotic nerds at A.I.M. have planned for them: being dissolved into grey goo by a raging swarm of sentient nanobots. Barnes is all the way in the back next to the water dispenser with the paper cups, grim-faced and spread out in that caricature of non-threat long ago factory installed by HYDRA. Tony Stark's up first, addressing pedantic tech details in a way that manages to be both interesting and informative. He speaks of peculiarities he's discovered regarding the bots' swarm pattern and how that's a clue to their programming that can be used to their advantage. As the man talks, Bucky stares alternately down at his own gloved hands, at some point in the middle distance and at the back of Steve's head.
Steve takes point next, cutting a lithe, stoic line that draws more than a few eyes (Bucky's included) as he makes his way to the front of the room. The past few days, Buck has seen more of Steve than he has in months, and now he finds himself caught on the sight of Rogers in his element, terse and incisive with that effortless authority of his. He meets Steve's eyes while he speaks and holds the stare for a while, brows drawn, pensive. All along, he'd figured it'd end up like this-- with them regarding one another from across the room, all business, rendered veritable strangers by the past that made him too restless to hold down a stable partnership. The particulars of their separation are still a raw spot in the back of his mind, but it's better this way. He's better off free to hop from country to country chasing down old enemies, tying up loose ends: it helps him sleep at night. It makes him feel more like a person than he has in a long, long time, and not even Steve could do that. (Of course, it's debatable he would've even gotten to the point where he actually gave a damn about anything other than base survival if it wasn't for Rogers' influence.)
And regardless, he can't take his eyes off the other man. His gaze trawls that statuesque form unabashedly the entire course of the debriefing, through questions, and as the others start to file out of the room. Even as Sharon Carter makes a sudden beeline toward the front with a tablet and stylus, he watches. And the muscles in his jaw twitch and bulge when he sees the way she touches Steve's arm. He doesn't talk until she's left the room and the door closes behind her, leaving them alone-- and he gets the feeling she took her time, too, after glancing up and catching his glower.
He fills one of those paper cups with water, downs it like a shot, then crushes it and tosses it in the garbage as he makes his way toward Rogers' spot at the head of the table. When he's close enough, he peeks at that tablet Sharon left, one dark brow raised. ] Looks like you two are getting along.
you know who you are.
The threat of impending apocalypse has always been conducive to the formation of cooperative stances, and the U.S. government has always flip-flopped on its policy regarding civil liberties when it's convenient, so for most of the individuals gathered around the conference table tonight, this is old hat. Aside from a few snarks volleyed by Tony Stark during Secretary Ross's opening remarks, the air's congealed with the tension of restrained (semi-)professionalism.
No one is holding hands and singing Kumbaya, but they're cooperating like old pros because it's preferable to the alternative the psychotic nerds at A.I.M. have planned for them: being dissolved into grey goo by a raging swarm of sentient nanobots. Barnes is all the way in the back next to the water dispenser with the paper cups, grim-faced and spread out in that caricature of non-threat long ago factory installed by HYDRA. Tony Stark's up first, addressing pedantic tech details in a way that manages to be both interesting and informative. He speaks of peculiarities he's discovered regarding the bots' swarm pattern and how that's a clue to their programming that can be used to their advantage. As the man talks, Bucky stares alternately down at his own gloved hands, at some point in the middle distance and at the back of Steve's head.
Steve takes point next, cutting a lithe, stoic line that draws more than a few eyes (Bucky's included) as he makes his way to the front of the room. The past few days, Buck has seen more of Steve than he has in months, and now he finds himself caught on the sight of Rogers in his element, terse and incisive with that effortless authority of his. He meets Steve's eyes while he speaks and holds the stare for a while, brows drawn, pensive. All along, he'd figured it'd end up like this-- with them regarding one another from across the room, all business, rendered veritable strangers by the past that made him too restless to hold down a stable partnership. The particulars of their separation are still a raw spot in the back of his mind, but it's better this way. He's better off free to hop from country to country chasing down old enemies, tying up loose ends: it helps him sleep at night. It makes him feel more like a person than he has in a long, long time, and not even Steve could do that. (Of course, it's debatable he would've even gotten to the point where he actually gave a damn about anything other than base survival if it wasn't for Rogers' influence.)
And regardless, he can't take his eyes off the other man. His gaze trawls that statuesque form unabashedly the entire course of the debriefing, through questions, and as the others start to file out of the room. Even as Sharon Carter makes a sudden beeline toward the front with a tablet and stylus, he watches. And the muscles in his jaw twitch and bulge when he sees the way she touches Steve's arm. He doesn't talk until she's left the room and the door closes behind her, leaving them alone-- and he gets the feeling she took her time, too, after glancing up and catching his glower.
He fills one of those paper cups with water, downs it like a shot, then crushes it and tosses it in the garbage as he makes his way toward Rogers' spot at the head of the table. When he's close enough, he peeks at that tablet Sharon left, one dark brow raised. ] Looks like you two are getting along.