Imagine, after his recovery, Bucky falls in love with words.
Howard TonyStark tells him that he could find everything he needs on the internet, Bucky collects hard copies of dictionaries, thesauruses, and nearly every other kindgenre of book, in every language he can find (nearly every other genre. He tried reading a book about recovering from PTSD once that bird boySam lent him, but it didn’t end well). He’s not quite ready for the expanse of the internet yet, and he’s afraid of Hawkeye ClintBarton and NataliaNatasha hacking and seeing his internet history. To be honest, the screens make his eyes hurtburn most days, and he prefers being able to touchcaress the words in his books without Stark yelling about dirty fingers leaving “who-knows-what” on his screens. So, he sticks to his books and avoids the internet. (It’s probably for the best anyway, Bucky still has a lot of triggers and the internet has all too many unkind words.)
Sometimes, he’ll speak all day, non-stop, switching
easilyeffortlessly from language to language until The Hulk Banner Brucethe Doc is practically begging him to stop and leave him to do his research (of course, begging for the Doc is more like politely asking/bribing). Bucky will just talkbabble as he goes, loving the way the words roll off his tongue and reverberate through his head.
Other days, he won’t talk at all. He’ll hide himself in his room, building a fort from blankets and pillows to
hideshelter himself from the words that he doesn’t likedon’t appeal to him (Once, he stayed in there for three days after hearing the word moist on the television). While snuggled there, he’ll turn on the flashlight that pops out of his metal hand and read booksnovels until he falls asleepdrifts off with the words plastered to the backs of his eyelids. When he’s there in the dark, the only way to gauge the time is by when the voice from aboveJARVIS announces that his dinner has been left outside his door, along with another book.
He enjoys Thor’s company almost as he enjoys the word plethora. He enjoys his voice, the way it booms and echoes in Stark’s spacious rooms and hallways. He enjoys the way he speaks, like he’s in some fantasy book Bucky once read. But most of all, Bucky enjoys Thor’s stories, whether they’re his own or as old as time, passed by word of mouth for eons. Each fills Bucky with a sort of ache that makes him feel ancient and empty and whole, all at the same time. It almost makes him feel better to know that Thor is older than him, to remember that he isn’t the only one who is out of place in this time.
Then there’s his
mission friend captainSteve. His Steve. There aren’t enough words in any language Bucky knows to describe Steve. He’s never been good enough at drawing to capture people the way Steve can, although he has been known to sketch the stray cat to pass the time. No, there is only one way that Bucky could ever try to do Steve justice, and that is through words. He starts writing one day while Steve draws him. He writes about the way the late afternoon sun catches Steve’s hair and sets it aglow, the way his jaw moves and his eyebrows draw together when he’s focused. The way his broad shoulders lead down to powerful arms, veins standing out, and the way he cracks his fingers every few minutes while assessing Bucky before continuing to draw. More than once, Bucky finds himself just staring at Steve and forgetting to write, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind.
Bucky doesn’t know why he loves words. Everyone gives him some answer about him just being a ‘talented, natural learner’ and ‘meant to write’ but Steve mentions to him one day that words are a choice. In the past, Bucky never had the freedom to speak, he only used words that were necessary. Now, it’s his decision to be descriptive, to weave stories and paint pictures in peoples’ minds with words. He loves having that choice.submitted byheir-of-gondor