Tag: post ca:tws

Jewish Bucky pls

copperbadge:

Title: Day Of Atonement
Rating: PG
Summary: Bucky thinks he’s got a lot to atone for. Fortunately, there’s a holy day for that.
Notes: Thanks to arsenicjade for checking this one over for me. 😀 

When Steve was little, he didn’t comprehend or even notice that good boys from his building didn’t play with the Jewish boys one block over. When he got older he understood it, but ignored it; after all, his mom didn’t care, so why should he?

Sarah Rogers didn’t give an Irish damn what the biddies in the parish thought of her or her son, as few of them had raised much of a hand to help her when Joseph was alive, and anyone she chose to associate with didn’t give a damn either. On the few occasions someone pointed out Steve’s choice in friends, she said, with an affectionate smile, “Well, Steve’s never been good at idiot rules.”

Steve ran about for most of his childhood in short pants with Bucky Barnes (Lefty Commie Jewish ma, Lefty Commie Convert dad) and Arnie Roth (orthodox, kind-hearted father, dead mother), who lived on the border between the Jewish neighborhood and the Irish one, an invisible but very tough membrane. Arnie drifted off eventually, too scared of seeming any kind of different to play with goyim, but Bucky and Steve battled angry Irish boys in Steve’s half of the street and (less often) tough Jewish boys in Bucky’s half, and soon enough most people who knew them left them alone. Sarah kept a jar of kosher pickles and a special plate for Bucky when he visited, and while she couldn’t send food over to the Barnes family, she did look after Bucky and Becca when the Barnes parents needed to go to a rally or a protest, and the time the strikebreakers put Bucky’s dad in a bad way because he was trying to Unionize.

If Steve ate a lot more matzoh growing up than most Irish, Bucky and Becca occasionally got a meal that might not strictly speaking be entirely kosher.

“Do you remember Yom Kippur back in ‘35, the year after my mom died?” Steve asked. He tried not to ask do you remember too often, but Erev Yom Kippur was in two days, and he didn’t know if Bucky would want to remember, or to participate.

“You wanted to fast with us,” Bucky said, sitting at Sam’s kitchen bar. “Mom wouldn’t let you. She had the Rabbi in to tell you the sick didn’t have to fast.”

“He boxed my ears when I lipped off to him, too.”

“He said that you were a gentile anyway, which was punishment enough.”

“Never lipped off to the Rabbi again,” Steve said ruefully, and Bucky smiled. “It’s comin’ up, you know.”

The smile dropped off his face. “I know.”

“Sam would drive you to Temple if you wanted. We could both fast with you,” Steve ventured. Bucky hadn’t left the house since they’d brought him here.

“Don’t remember much — ” Bucky’s lips twisted. “Bet I could still make kreplach, all the times we watched Mom do it, but the prayers, the words, it’s all…”

He made a faint gesture, fingers fluttering away from his head. Lost to the Winter Soldier.

“They got me,” he said bitterly. “They didn’t put me in a camp but they got me just the same.”

“Hey, no, it’ll come back,” Steve said. “It will. If you can still make kreplach you can still pray. That kinda stuff doesn’t leave you, Buck.”

“It’s Yom Kippur. I got a lot to atone for. There’s too much — “

"I don’t believe that, and I don’t think you do either, not deep down. Anyway, your dad always said the best thing about bein’ a Jew was wholesale one-day forgiveness,” Steve said. Bucky’s mom had always swatted him for that.

Bucky looked at him, head bent, only his eyes moving. “What if I can’t remember?”

“Well, then you’ll have to go back to Hebrew school,” Steve said with a grin. “I hear the Rabbis don’t box ears anymore.”

“Bet they would if you lipped off to them, you were the worst at lipping off,” Bucky replied.

"So you’ll go? Sam and I will come if you want, at least, you know — ”

“Yeah, fine,” Bucky sighed. “I don’t know, dragging you two goyim around with me, G-d better send me patience for the pair of you…”

handwritingofgod:

It is commonly believed that Steve cannot lie. Much like Washington, he has this weird reputation for being totally honest all the time.

Like with Washington, this is a total myth.

Steve is actually a very good liar, provided he knows he’s going to lie and has his lie down before he tells it.

No one knows Steve’s ability to lie better than Bucky, though there was a time when he was as blissfully unaware as everyone else. There was a time when Steve was able to successfully hide health issues and emotional problems, insecurities and fears. That ability shattered the day Bucky came home to him collapsed on the floor, barely able to breathe and utterly incoherent from fever.

there was a moment where bucky thought steve was dead and he never forgave steve for that

After that, Bucky was more aware. He was able to figure out Steve’s tells, or just know when things didn’t add up. He knew when Steve needed him to wrap an arm around his shoulder and when Steve needed him to stay home. Steve never stopped lying, but Bucky lied too. Now they were on even ground, since Steve was rarely fooled. There were days where Steve felt worthless, pointless, like a burden. Those were the days where Bucky held him close and ran his fingers through Steve’s hair and talked about all the ways Steve was good and how much better Bucky’s life was because of him, until Steve was sobbing into Bucky’s shoulder but they were good tears.

Years later, Steve is still lying. Nat says he’s not a good liar, but that’s not true. He’s lied successfully for ages, pretending that he was okay. Sam was the first to see through it. Nat saw that he was lonely, but not that he woke up screaming more often than not. Not that he still dreamed about Bucky falling, or about being so cold he couldn’t move. Not that the better nightmares were the ones where he jumped off and followed Bucky into oblivion.

Bucky’s there, but he’s not Bucky anymore. Not really. Bucky wasn’t that quiet, or that serious. Bucky didn’t keep so much distance from everyone. Bucky didn’t look at Steve like Steve was a stranger.

It hurts to look at Bucky these days. Things pile up. Ugly missions that stick with him. Failures he can’t forgive himself for. Smile. Keep calm and carry on, as the queen used to say.

One night, after a mission, he’s sitting quietly in his living room. It’s something he does, and it never helps. Usually it just ends with him feeling utterly worthless, because thinking turns into an ugly cycle of guilt.

Bucky is too quiet. Steve doesn’t even realize he’s in the room until he sits down next to Steve on the couch.

“I’m fine.” Steve says automatically, because he’s been saying it to almost everyone since they got back from Moscow. Bucky’s expression doesn’t change, it’s a blank mask. Maybe his eyes narrow just a little, but Steve looks away. “I’m fine.” He says again.

Bucky reaches out slowly, like he’s not sure of what he’s doing or thinks Steve will want him to stop. Steve’s too startled to protest as Bucky starts running his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“I’m fine.” Steve protests weakly. Bucky keeps up his movements, and they’re so careful and gentle that they break Steve’s heart. Bucky doesn’t say anything, and Steve doesn’t think his expression, or lack thereof, changes.

“I’m not going to be fine if you keep this up.” Steve tries to joke, but it’s more broken than he means it to be. Bucky pauses, and for a second, Steve’s sorry he said anything because it was so nice to be fussed over, even that little tiny bit.

Then Bucky’s fingers start carding through his hair again, and Bucky seems a bit more confident in that movement.

“It’s okay,” he says, very quietly. “To not be fine." 

Steve finds himself curled up in Bucky’s lap, sobbing, his arms wrapped around him with Bucky still petting his hair. He feels stupid, but also lighter, better. Bucky could always tell when he was lying.