milliways_bar | (no subject)

"Go. Go! Take this journal and write down everything you can remember. It will help, I promise you."

"Princess--"

"Do not argue. Find somewhere quiet, where you won't be bothered."

"The kids aren't a bother."

"They are also not quiet."

* * * * * * *

It's been a long time since he's been here, enough that if pressed he couldn't actually say how long. He hadn't exactly meant to come, either, but he'd been thinking about finding somewhere out of the way when he walked out of Shuri's lab, and there's no question that Milliways fits that description better than anywhere else.

About ten minutes later, Bucky Barnes is settled in at one of the quieter booths in the back, the journal open in front of him. (A close observer might notice that each page is subtly embossed with the logo of the Wakandan Design Group.)

He's holding a pen in his right hand and tapping it against the blank page. From time to time he sets down the pen and picks up the cup of coffee waiting beside him instead. A swallow or two later, he repeats the process, swapping cup for pen.

His left hand is immaterial to the whole process, as it's entirely absent. A series of gauze bandages are barely visible under the collar of his shirt, and his left sleeve is neatly pinned shut over where his arm used to be.

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Whoops. Was that one of the parts he said inside his head or outside? Probably not the one he assumed, based on reaction. Hah. It's funny, how often he gets those mixed up.

... Funny, yup!

"You said you wanted to be sure no one was controlling you. I might be able to help with that." There. That was the actually said this time, right? Yes. Wonderful, fantastic. Wei Wuxian stuffs his mouth full of bao so he can't say anything else.

Several thoughts crash together in his mind at once, as he keeps staring at the younger man.

"... um," he starts, after a few seconds. "I'm not dead." Long periods of cryogenic stasis notwithstanding, he's never actually died.

"Or a demon."

"Shouldn't matter that much, energy is energy." Wei Wuxian shrugs, after struggling to swallow the entirely-too-big mouthful of bao he'd taken. "I'd have to do some research. But I'm good at making things work."

He takes a long drink of coffee to give himself time to work out what to say - and how to say it.

"Why?" The mug hits the table again with a solid 'clunk.' "We just met. Why would you even offer to help me?"

Here's the thing: Wei Wuxian has been asked that question, with varying levels of exasperation, for decades now. He still doesn't know how he's supposed to answer.

"If I can help... why wouldn't I?" He asks in return, instead, with a little shrug.

(Usually the answer is 'whoops too late to stop now already helping', which is its own problem.)

He can easily imagine Steve saying the same thing, with the same small shrug. As if there's no other possible answer. Because it's the right thing to do.

Bucky scrubs his hand over his face and lets it drop.

"What kind of research?" he asks. "Because, no offense, I've had enough of being a lab experiment."

"What?" Wei Wuxian has to parse that, because he doesn't know what a lab even is, but to his credit he looks moderately horrified. "No, no, not... no, research, at the library, here, and maybe in Gusu if I can get access."

His treatment of Wen Ning was highly experimental, but that was only because he was entirely out of time for anything more cautious.

He has to admit that Wei Wuxian's horrified reaction is very reassuring, even as he tells him, "Well, that's how I ended up with the controls in the first place. Different kind of research. No library involved, though."

A little wryly, he adds, "I like the sound of your approach better."

Wei Wuxian snorts, rolling his eyes.

"Well thank you." He should hope developing proper technique first sounds better.

He huffs out a soft breath of laughter.

"You're welcome."