[He knows Sherlock is back, he saw the note on the board, so he delays his planned visit to make sure that John had calmed down enough to not go after Justin so that the two can talk and get sorted.
He also owes John a proper thanks for the surgery, something he failed to do at the time and then couldn't in order to stop John from committing revenge murder. Or just revenge. He drops a letter in the box himself, not waiting for the mail sloth, and it's more a warning than anything else.]
I'm coming over tonight. James.
[True to his word, he shows up as the sun goes down.]
[John would usually be looking forward to the visit, but he's irritable today. He's exhausted and frustrated with himself for being exhausted to the point that Sherlock's been able to run off unattended multiple times while John's been sleeping. The doctor opens the door and gestures him in. There's the scent of Chinese takeaway in the air. John hadn't felt much like cooking, and some orange chicken and spring rolls on the tree out front had appeared to answer his needs.]
Should I be calling you James now, or is that just for signing letters?
[Black Bart takes note of the visitor and comes scuttling toward Bucky for attention.]
[Bucky has a puppy who is now eagerly bouncing around his legs; although, he's been trained well enough at this point that he doesn't jump up.
John huffs and makes a dismissive gesture with his hand before heading into the living room. The take away boxes are sat on the table along with a pair of plates and utensils.]
I'm thinking of wishing away the need to sleep. Might take care of a few problems.
[The poor puppy will get ignored until Bucky takes a seat, and then he starts stroking Black Bart's head in a way that suggests he's being overly careful not to cause any damage.]
Nothing, come and sit down.
[At least John didn't take a swing at him straight off, maybe he's not so mad about the promise extracted before.]
[Bucky receives a sharp look. This is John's house. The other man shouldn't be ordering him around in it. He has enough sense to know it was meant as a request, at least, but a part of him still wants to be petulant. John goes to fetch himself a beer from the fridge before joining Bucky.]
He runs off when I fall asleep and he's insufferable when I'm awake. So just about the standard state of affairs.
[John starts dishing orange chicken onto Bucky's plate, whether he wants it or not.]
[He knows that John, like him, is a man who prefers not to have that sort of conversation if possible, but sometimes it's necessary. Besides, it's much easier to give this sort of advice than take it.]
What's there to talk about? [Bucky is now being served a pair of spring rolls. They're slammed down onto his plate with more force than may be strictly necessary.] He thinks I'm hovering too much. I don't want him to go running his mouth off again and die.
[He doesn't expect a conversation will change either of their viewpoints.]
[Considering how blunt he can be, and how socially awkward, he can't exactly judge John for this. Still, that doesn't mean he'll let him get away with it.]
How about I tell you, if you agree to talk to Sherlock?
[He grits his teeth, but nods to the order. He hadn't been planning on putting it off... much. Maybe a little bit. But apparently, that's not going to fly with Sergeant Barnes.
At least mention of the pain pulls John's darker thoughts away. It's always easier to do when there's someone else's problem to consider.]
Have you been taking any of the Vicodin I gave you?
[He gives a half shrug. He's not about to lie to John, that's something he decided not to do a long time past, but that doesn't mean he's about to just blurt out any old truth.]
I took a couple that first evening.
[He raises the metal arm about halfway and makes a fist, the slight whirring sound just audible.]
It's good, better than I thought it might be without an engineer. You're both good surgeons.
[Not good enough. John's well aware Stephen shares the sentiment. Hearing that whir is just a reminder that he should have gotten to this sooner while Tony was still around. But Bucky has always had to wait on him... and it's always terrible for his health in the end. And it has been traumatizing for poor Stephen, as well, this time.]
I'd like it if you'd take a couple more now and again. Or at least some ibuprofen I have. Will you take that more regularly if I give it to you?
It's ibuprofen. It's not going to alter your mental processes. If you don't have to be in pain, I don't want you to be in pain for something I- [He cuts off.] Constant pain is constant stress. It's not good for your overall health.
You really think there's not constant pain even if it's functioning right?
[He's so surprised that he's almost amused.]
It's solid vibranium with fittings and machinery, connected direct to my nerves and skeleton. It hurts, and it would even if you did it perfectly, so don't go blaming yourself for helping me out.
[John's not sure what he thought. The idea of Bucky being in constant pain, always remained of the weight of that arm and what was done to him, is troubling. It's even more troubling that he'll now remember that surgery constantly because of how weakened the arm was.]
I dunno... may the serum. I thought it helped. Maybe?
[He lifts the arm again halfway, twisting it so that the joints catch the light. He's satisfied with how the surgery went, even if the two doctors aren't.]
If I didn't have the serum, it would've pulled too hard on my spine for the weight years ago. You're a doctor, John, what do you think would happen if you connected a solid piece of machinery to someone?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
June 9th
He also owes John a proper thanks for the surgery, something he failed to do at the time and then couldn't in order to stop John from committing revenge murder. Or just revenge. He drops a letter in the box himself, not waiting for the mail sloth, and it's more a warning than anything else.]
I'm coming over tonight.
James.
[True to his word, he shows up as the sun goes down.]
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Should I be calling you James now, or is that just for signing letters?
[Black Bart takes note of the visitor and comes scuttling toward Bucky for attention.]
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Just for letters, it's polite.
[So says the master of manners, Bucky Barnes.]
You look like hell.
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John huffs and makes a dismissive gesture with his hand before heading into the living room. The take away boxes are sat on the table along with a pair of plates and utensils.]
I'm thinking of wishing away the need to sleep. Might take care of a few problems.
What d'you want to drink?
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Nothing, come and sit down.
[At least John didn't take a swing at him straight off, maybe he's not so mad about the promise extracted before.]
Things not been going good since he came back?
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He runs off when I fall asleep and he's insufferable when I'm awake. So just about the standard state of affairs.
[John starts dishing orange chicken onto Bucky's plate, whether he wants it or not.]
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[He knows that John, like him, is a man who prefers not to have that sort of conversation if possible, but sometimes it's necessary. Besides, it's much easier to give this sort of advice than take it.]
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[He doesn't expect a conversation will change either of their viewpoints.]
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[John's worried, Sherlock's annoyed, they're just going to end up imploding again if they don't talk.]
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[It's said so blandly, he's not backing down.]
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How's your arm?
[John is just going to bluntly change the topic. Who needs segues?]
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How about I tell you, if you agree to talk to Sherlock?
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Bucky...
[His tone is turning exasperated, which, if Bucky's paid attention to John's past interactions may be a clue that he's close to winning.]
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He just meets John's gaze across the table, level and implacable. He's not going to back down on this. The deal is there, take it or leave it.]
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Tell me how your arm is.
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[It's a flat order, he's not letting John wiggle around this with a nebulous promise.]
Hurts like hell, but it works enough to be worth it.
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At least mention of the pain pulls John's darker thoughts away. It's always easier to do when there's someone else's problem to consider.]
Have you been taking any of the Vicodin I gave you?
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I took a couple that first evening.
[He raises the metal arm about halfway and makes a fist, the slight whirring sound just audible.]
It's good, better than I thought it might be without an engineer. You're both good surgeons.
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I'd like it if you'd take a couple more now and again. Or at least some ibuprofen I have. Will you take that more regularly if I give it to you?
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[He's not arguing overly much, he might take them if John pushes it in compromise for what he's pushed for today, but he'd rather not.]
I can handle the pain, it's not a big deal.
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[He's so surprised that he's almost amused.]
It's solid vibranium with fittings and machinery, connected direct to my nerves and skeleton. It hurts, and it would even if you did it perfectly, so don't go blaming yourself for helping me out.
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I thought...
[John's not sure what he thought. The idea of Bucky being in constant pain, always remained of the weight of that arm and what was done to him, is troubling. It's even more troubling that he'll now remember that surgery constantly because of how weakened the arm was.]
I dunno... may the serum. I thought it helped. Maybe?
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[He lifts the arm again halfway, twisting it so that the joints catch the light. He's satisfied with how the surgery went, even if the two doctors aren't.]
If I didn't have the serum, it would've pulled too hard on my spine for the weight years ago. You're a doctor, John, what do you think would happen if you connected a solid piece of machinery to someone?
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