sixthiterationlogs | she's a real peach!

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she's a real peach!

WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: Peach Trees - 7I
WHEN: August 31st
OPEN TO: Bucky Barnes
WARNINGS: n/a

It's almost exciting to have so many new things to explore, to the point that Peggy has stopped looking past the why. Well, that's hardly true. She's never going to stop wondering why these things are here, but she can at least enjoy the fruits of their spoils. Literally, in this case, given that she's dragged Bucky out to the grove of peach trees in the name of exploration. That ocean or lake or whatever it had been has yielded nothing, along with the strange room they can't breach (but that weighs on her mind), and it's left her wanting more answers and receiving none.

She's using the peach trees as an excuse both to get out of her house, but also to drag Bucky with her, because perhaps, if there's anyone, he might understand what's been troubling her lately. Unfortunately, that does require Peggy to inevitably talk about the vials of blood and how they've put her in such a place in the past, not to mention the other emotional icebergs that Steve Rogers presents.

"Here," she says, already half-climbed atop a tree and fishing around for some of the peaches to drop down, craning back as she uses a branch to support her as she winces, seeing that she'd just narrowly missed striking Barnes in the head. "Duck?" she offers, belatedly, perching on a little spot halfway up the tree with a peach in hand.

They're quite good, actually. They must be something else, given that she'd heard rumours of people healing after eating them, but as far as she's concerned, all she really wants is the fresh fruit.

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This place gives him plenty of reason to get stuck in his head, so when all else fails, that’s where he usually finds himself. The reality is that there simply isn’t enough here to occupy his mind with in the day to day, his stint in Romania seemingly so much more complex by comparison even when the concept was more or less the same. There are differences here of course, situations he encounters that he might not normally find himself (earthquakes are things he generally avoids being susceptible to, anyway), but when your whole life was already likely to be uprooted in an instant, the surprises didn’t feel hardly any different from what he would have experienced otherwise back where—when—he’d come from.

Maybe it’s a cheap thing to do, but even when he’s out here with Peggy, he finds it difficult to keep his full attention on what’s actually happening around him. There’s safety here, and he can afford the luxury of time, even at the cost of what limited company he shares with Peggy, so getting lost comes easily. Really, it’s probably a good thing that the peach narrowly misses him, because the proximity is what jars him back to the present, allowing him to actually catch Peggy’s suggestion in a timely way at all.

“Jesus—” he remarks, ducking out of delayed reaction and looking up warily. Ripe peaches rain from the branch above, Peggy’s movement being just what they needed to fall, apparently. Timely reaction doesn’t really change that he’s standing under the branch though, and a healthy peach strikes him squarely in the temple. “—ack! ”

The only thing it really hurts is Bucky’s dignity, but he’s long foregone the idea that he can hold onto it even in the best of times. So he laughs, amused and sheepish, swiping his temple to brace the ghost of a wound before leaning down to pick up the offending peach.

“Thanks, that helped a ton, Agent,” comes the wry remark as he stands again, smiling despite the tone as he gestures the peach toward her as if it was some kind of prize. “Think this guy owes me an apology though, huh?” He withdraws the peach and scrubs the side gently against the cloth at his chest, just above the strap of the satchel he’s brought along for collecting peaches.

Peggy's mind is already wheeling a thousand miles a minute away from what she's doing, not content to simply think about what's happening any longer. She's let it run away on her because it's much easier than actually focusing on the things that are plaguing her so terribly right now. It's hardly fair to Barnes, but then, she also has been too distracted lately to even put in her visits, which is why she's happy that he'd agreed to come out here with her.

She peers downwards, though, when it seems that she's caused a bit of a fruitful avalanche, eyes widening with mild alarm as she clambers to hold onto the branch desperately. "Are you all right?" she asks, trying her best not to laugh aloud, but she still ends up having to press her lips together quite firmly in order to do that. "Everything peachy?" she can't help herself, the laughter bubbling on her lips.

She does smile warmly at the given 'Agent', descending with a bundle in her tank top, having converted it into something of a bag. "Only if you abandon one of his co-conspirators to me," she demands, extending a palm.

He’s ready to reply but instead laughs helplessly at the pun, unable to ignore the amusement that spreads through his chest. The warm feeling is rare enough; stifling it is a waste. Bucky grins and shakes his head at Peggy once the laughter is spent.

“I think they could all use a good interrogation, so you may as well take more than just one. I dunno if I’ll be able to question all of them all on my own.” He throws a good-natured wink her way before taking a hearty bite from the perpetrator that sparked their conversation. Sweet doesn’t quite capture the taste, the aromatic flavors doing a number on their own, enough so that Bucky lets out an involuntary hum of appreciation.

“Good God—” He shakes his head in mild disbelief, looking at the peach in awe. “I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven.”

Peggy smiles back at him, feeling strangely like a young girl again, not worried about the war or Steve or proving herself in an agency. She's simply out with another boy enjoying herself and it feels whimsically freeing, to a degree. She takes one of the peaches and instantly takes a large bite, with little care about the juice that flows down her chin, forcing her to wipe the back of her hand, forced to admit that Barnes is quite right about that.

"I know I ought to be far more suspicious about the fact that they popped out of nowhere, but I've desperately missed an easy-to-procure fresh food source," she says, finishing the peach in far less time than it ought to have taken her, but she is a touch desperate. She does manage not to go for another instantly, but she's already heading back up to get some more.

"Have you ever had peach pie?" she calls to him, hoping that he knows how to bake one.

He can’t help but agree with her; his impression is very much the same. For all they know, the fruit could have less than savory side effects. But as far as Bucky is concerned, it’s worth the risk regardless. How else did anyone figure out what food could or couldn’t be eaten centuries before? Besides, he’s more than comfortable accepting a painful death in trade of such a satisfying bite of fruit. Well, maybe not death, but he doubts it’d come to that anyway.

“Can’t say that I have.” He takes another bite and chews thoughtfully, swallowing before continuing. “My sisters loved apple, so that’s all we ever ended up making. With the occasional exception of pecan or pumpkin for special company.”

Being short a hand, he bites into the fruit again, this time without piercing through it, holding it in his mouth as he squats and starts collecting the peaches near his feet. There’s far more than he and Peggy could reasonably take back, and it’s astounding how genuinely bountiful even the single tree is.

"I ask because I'm a terrible cook and baker, both," Peggy confesses, with a hint of mischief in her eyes that very clearly informs Barnes that she's asking him to cook a peach pie that she might get to indulge in at some point. Peggy settles both feet on the ground again, searching around her and looking at them, her mind still also sticking on the problem that she'd come out here to avoid.

Those bloody vials in that damned room.

Letting out a sigh, she knows that she has to face it at some point. "Have you gone to see it?" she asks, turning over one of the bruised peaches in her hand. "The room, with all the specimens in it, have you seen it?"

He’s a few moments longer collecting before he stands and brushes off his palm against his pant leg so he can grasp the peach held in his mouth again to reply.

“Specimens?” If that suffices to answer her question.

“Y’don’t gotta worry you pretty little head over that though, Agent. As long as you don’t mind me being a bit slower than I mighta been before, I certainly don’t mind whipping up anything for you. Food’s meant to be shared, y'know? Or at least that's what my ma always said.”

She can't help the way she raises her brow, quietly pleased with his compliment, though it's hardly as if Peggy is going to say anything of the sort out loud. Can't have Barnes thinking that he's anything resembling charming, after all, only grown egos will come of that.

"You're disgusting," she says flatly, of his treatment of the peach, but there's no heat to it. "And I absolutely don't mind how long you might take to bake a pie or a dish, provided that it's not using the one that's currently in your mouth. I do have some standards about what I put in mine," she quips, unable to help the mischievous spark in her eye, as if a dare to see what Barnes will say in reply.

The remark comes something as a surprise, Bucky not having expected to be chastised for holding the peach with his mouth. Though it stings a bit to feel so judged by someone he trust for it despite his physical circumstances, he only raises his brows in confusion before looking back down to the peach for a moment and taking another bite, smaller this time.

“Can’t help that I only got one arm, Agent,” he replies with a sigh through his nose after a few moments of thoughtful chewing. “I don’t make a habit of using my half eaten food to make food for someone else though, if you’re really so concerned. I was planning on finishing this one over the next few minutes anyway.”

She gives him a mirroring look, but he doesn't smile like she might have expected and he's hardly the type to react like Jarvis with the steely-faced 'you're terribly funny, Ms. Carter' she's come to expect, so Peggy can't help her amusement and her mental note to make sure that she teaches Barnes that she's only jesting.

"I can carry it, you know," she points out, holding up both hands. "I still have the both of them for now, even if your mouth has been all over them. Germs don't bother me, and it might be more comfortable for you," she points out. "Tell me more about this pie you're going to bake me, while we walk back."

He hums, not really letting the sting linger anyway, so he isn’t particularly bothered when their conversation moves on. He takes another bite—he can’t resist when it’s right there in quick access to enjoy—and chews through, swallowing before he answers.

“Figured we could both carry peaches though. More to go around and all that, right? Besides, that means more pies.”

Yeah, he’s not letting you carry his bag, Peggy. See, he’s got his pride, even short the arm. All that means is he can’t pick peaches and eat at the same time. His filled satchel is still no burden at all regardless.

She's still carrying as many as she can and while she does level a displeased look at him, she knows that trying to outstubborn particular men will only result in exhaustion. It had been enough of a trying time with Steve and Barnes had grown up with him, so at some point, they likely exchanged tips and lessons.

"Are you going to lock yourself away and become a baker?" she teases. "If so, I demand a spot at the table for samples, not to mention to offer suggestions." It's likely impossible, but Peggy can't help but dream fondly of the thought of a dollop of proper whipped creme atop the pie, as wild and fanciful as that thought is.

Rationing isn't new to her at all, yet there are times when her hunger and her desires for sweets catches her off guard, like now.

Unknown to Peggy, and probably luckily for Bucky’s own sake, she doesn’t have to know that Bucky had actually made Steve so much worse by putting up with it. But that’s another discussion to hopefully have maybe never.

At the suggestion that he could ever be a baker proper, he can’t help but laugh, even though it’s clearly a tease. “It’d be the most limited selection a baker’s ever had, I can tell you now. I only know how to make really simple things. Or, well, what used to be simple. I think where I am in time back home, people are especially allergic to cooking of any sort for whatever reason, so even what I think is simple is probably like building a space rocket to a lot of ’em.”

Hopefully they won’t really need to ration the peaches though. There’s so many, after all. It’d be a shame.

"I'd settle for fresh baked bread," is what Peggy has to say about that, seeing as she honestly doesn't think that she can recall the last time she had it. Well, she supposes it had been when there was still activity coming from the little baker's house in the main area, but the two men who always seemed to there haven't been present lately and Peggy has to assume that just like all the rest, they've either be taken or are gone, as well.

"It is like building a space rocket to me, you know," she adds. "It's not laziness that holds me back, it's practicality. Even when I try and devote my attention to it, it never tastes very good. I'm afraid I haven't got a knack for being a homemaker." Maybe she's subconsciously sabotaging so that she isn't pegged into that square, but it's the truth.

When he thinks about it, it’s rather a shame that that’s what Peggy has to say, especially considering the bakery in town, but it’s all the more reason to make note of it to make some fresh bread for her later, maybe even show her how in case she ever gets the hankering. Or at least try to. There’s no harm in trying, right?

He tries to ignore the fact that he remembers that advice most strongly from Howard and not from his ma, especially since this is Peggy. Probably wouldn’t go over too well when the implications that came with the knowledge probably would only make Peggy roll her eyes.

The mention of homemaking makes him smile though, not out of mocking but out of amusement. In all honestly, he never pegged Pegs (ha) as the type either, even as much as he knew she was always ready to kick some ass at the drop of a hat. That never mattered much to him though. Homemaking was never really some kind of talent that women needed to develop anyway, in his opinion.

“Y’know, there’s a reason why they say practice is perfect though. I mean, I can’t say I’m anywhere near perfect—decent is probably a better word for what all I can do anyway—but doing it over and over again definitely helps. Bread’s really not that complicated once you get used to it. I’ll show you.”

"I much rather preferred to explore fake civilizations in my backyard than learn how to turn out a perfect table or set a roast in the oven," she confesses, which had been much to her mother's chagrin and Michael's delight. "My fiancé, I'm sure he wanted the same of me, but unlucky for him, my brother intervened." She's saying all this tentatively, but rather quickly, because it's more than she tells most people, but she finds herself spilling her secrets to James so easily.

She gives him a brief smile, happy to focus on bread. "I'd much rather watch and eat the result," she confesses, "but if having to learn is the cost of getting that bread, I suppose I can pay it." After all, it's hardly like it will stop her from other things.

Despite the shock the word brings, he does a rather good job at not letting the fact that Peggy says ‘fiancé’ like he should have been aware (Well, maybe he had been? The other versions of him that have passed through. Actually, that makes plenty of sense, not that it stops jolt that shoots through Bucky regardless.). Really, he’s even impressed with himself as he laughs off the way Peggy’s expressing her clear distaste toward cooking or any nature, simple or otherwise.

“I guess that’s fair though. Watching bread while it rises can be pretty fun. Windowed ovens are up there for in terms of genius inventions, at least.” Though by this point even Peggy is already likely aware that his bar for “genius inventions” is rather low because just about everything technological tends to impress him in some way.

“Help me out a sec though,” he inevitably has to tag on. “Fiancé?”

She presses her lips together, ruefully smiling because she had figured that might draw questions, but she's hardly going to hide her past in the shadows the way she might have before. "Yes, his name was Fred," she agrees, "and we were engaged in '39, when the war effort had only just begun," she says. "I was working at Bletchley and he was a training officer. I had buried all those things about me that I hold so important now and my brother sought to get me into the field."

"I turned it down, at first, for Fred," she admits. "I didn't love him the way I should have. Sometimes, I wonder if I had ever loved him at all," she goes on. "When Michael was killed, I knew I couldn't sit around and be the perfect housewife. Not even a mediocre one," Peggy remarks.

"I broke off the engagement with a letter and joined with the SSR. That led me, well, to here, I suppose," she notes, glancing around them and down to the peaches.

Though he takes another bite of the peach and pretends to preoccupy himself with scouting out the healthier, unbruised specimens for him to pluck up later, he considers her words fully, thoughtfully, and can’t help but wonder what all of their lives could have been like if the war had never happened. He muses on that silently for a few moments even after Peggy finishes explaining.

“Well. With notable exception to arriving here, I have to say, that was probably the wise decision to make, even with the hardships that you have had and will have to face along the way.”

He licks his lips rather anxiously, wary of not wanting to give away too much to her about what he does know happens to her but also wishing to assuage her of her choice, past inclusive. After taking another bite of the nearly finished peach to stop himself from saying too much, of course then chewing through and swallowing, he continues, “And maybe it’s cruel of me to say this too, but. You deserve better than Steve, Pegs. You really do.”

The comment is not met with a warm reception. For all that Peggy might instinctively understand that the continual cycle of pining and affection for someone who's out of her life isn't healthy or good for her, she still has put the idea of Steve Rogers (and not Captain America) on a pedestal as something to live up to.

"I certainly don't think that's true," is her sharp, icy retort. "If you'd seen me in my most recent years, I can assure you that there would be no reason for you to ever say such a thing." She still thinks about how she would have disappointed Steve, being so selfish in her own pursuits and looking after her own self-interests. Hefting up the peaches into her arms a little more, she regards Barnes with a shake of her head.

"I didn't get a choice, not with Steve," she says. "Not at home, not here the first time. I certainly don't think I deserve any better than him," is her remark, her forehead furrowed and troubled as she steps quicker, as if to burn off the additional anxious energy.

“Peggy,” he calls after her, somewhat tiredly but otherwise more pleading with her patience. He understands her view of things, especially with the mention of how she tries to implicate her own doings as having changed any of her worth. But he doesn’t need to know whatever details she thinks are so important. He already knows how the story ends, and nothing can erase the good she has done, all of it amounting to far more than he’d ever managed himself.

He tosses the leftover pit of his devoured peach aside, hurriedly adding a few more peaches to his satchel before rising to trot after her.

“Peggy, c’mon. You think I don't know what it's like? Knowing a guy like Steve? Growing up with him? Then seeing how once the world noticed him they put him high up above everyone else and treated him like some paragon?” A few paces back and hardly pressed to keep up, Bucky shakes his head, sorrow and that bittersweet longing for simpler times filling him.

“You think he liked that? Likes that? He’s just a guy, for Chrissakes. He knows he ain’t perfect, so don’t you start acting like he has to be too. Don't act like him crashing that plane was all selflessness. You know that's not it at all.”

"I don't think he's perfect, but I think he tries to be better. In doing so, he makes himself a better man and that's what I was holding myself up to," she admits, still trying to rid this ridiculous idea that somehow she's better than Steve and could deserve more than him. While she knows there are men every bit as good as Steve (Jason and Daniel having proven her that), it's also difficult to presume that she could somehow be settling for Steve Rogers.

"I noticed him before the rest of the world did," she snaps, because she knows that Barnes can associate with this, understands. "I liked him before he became Captain America, I liked skinny Steve Rogers with all the courage and heart and determination to be his very best." It's why Erskine had picked him, it's why Peggy had such fondness for him.

"He only kept trying to do the right thing and I got left to pick up my own broken pieces," she says, feeling like she has more to say, but she can't bear to think about this much more, so she quiets and closes her eyes tightly before she resolutely takes the next step to keep walking.

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she's a real peach!

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