Steve has no plan. Not because he hadn't tried to make one. He'd tried to make lots of plans. Plan, adapt, plan again, tried to think of every contingency.
And then he'd thrown them away, because there wasn't much point. What could you plan for? He couldn't guess the possible contingencies, the situations, the potentials. And he sure as sure hadn't figured on what's happened now, on coming back to his place and finding Bucky here. He hadn't even hoped for that.
He hadn't realized he could.
[post-Winter Soldier recovery fic]
Bookmarked by innypocket
22 Sep 2014