"No. Not at me," he adds, to clarify. "I don't think he's. Happy about it." The whole graduation thing is not something he's going to tell for Steve, so he'll have to leave that side of things out. He's already spilled to one person, he's not going to do that again.
"But he's been. Really clear. That he's not mad at me for bringing him back," he finishes. "Or bringing you back." He's also not going to say Steve thought he did the right thing. He feels like that would be rubbing salt in Annie's wounds. But not being mad, that's safe enough. "I would've understood if he was. If you were."
"Yeah, I do. I still have-- most of them, I think. The pirates couldn't get into my cabin, so. Most everything was untouched." He even spent a couple hours reading them, waiting for her and Steve to wake up, once he'd tidied up the place after the escape.
That sounds like something relatively easy, yeah. "Sure. Any time you want." His fingers twitch a little, and he thinks about what he'd managed for Steve, and says, "Want me to. Um. Want me to braid your hair? I'm pretty sure I can."
Despite everything, she lights up at the offer. She almost asks if he's sure--she hasn't missed the tension in him, that's been there since prison--but she trusts he wouldn't have offered if he wasn't.
"I'll get a brush," she scampers up to the bathroom and returns with a hair tie as well.
That's the expression he was hoping for. This is familiar, for them, a memory of good times and good feelings. And he's pretty sure he can do it. Like HYDRA, prison guard pirates weren't particularly focused on hair except occasionally to pull.
B sinks onto the couch at last, himself, half-turned against the arm, and pats the cushion next to him. Not too close, hopefully, but where he can get at her hair.
He hesitates a beat or two, hands coming up then back down, then finally up and into her hair, first. Just touching, running his fingers over it and a little into it. "You weren't stupid," he says. "You're not stupid."
"I never wanted Steve to get hurt. Or you, or Archer, or Sweeney." She brushes the red lock braided into her hair, just behind her ear. "I just don't know what the in between is. Either I'm hurting all the time, to make people happy. Or I'm hurting them so I can be happy."
That's not a thing B can really challenge, so he sighs a little. "Yeah, okay. I know the feeling. So far I've been leaning on the make-other-people-happy side. Not sure how to fix that except maybe find a way to change what makes you happy somehow."
He runs his fingers over the weaved bit with Sweeney's hair, not sure whose it is, though there's only so many red-headed people on this Barge. And she did mention Sweeney, so it's probably his. "There anything special you want me to do with this? Or should I leave it out of my own braid?"
B remembers being asked this question, back before he was even a person again. Funny how nobody's asked him that since. The closest he ever came was his damn shrink asking him what he wanted, and then ridiculing his answer.
He thinks about it seriously for a moment, as he brushes out her hair, careful to avoid unweaving Sweeney's hair in the process. He doesn't think chocolate and soft things really cut it anymore. Apparently he's gotten more complicated since then. "I don't think I know anymore," he admits. "What makes you happy?"
"My pack." Which has always been her first answer. It used to be her only answer. "And learning new things. Going new places. Figuring things out even if I'm...not great at understanding what I'm seeing."
She lets herself just enjoy the feel of his fingers. "I really want you to know what makes you happy, too. You're able to find out here, aren't you? Like...more than you could at home. It's safer for you to learn about yourself here?"
He chuckles a little, sadly, as he starts carefully working on a French braid along one side of her head. "I know a lot about myself, at this point. I've had time. I know I'm better off here than out in the world. I know I want my friends here to stick around and keep letting me be their friend. I want more songs on the piano and a shit-ton of food so I can stop feeling like a skeleton and to sit on my sheepskin rug. I want to keep people safe. I'm not sure if that's happy exactly, but I know it's better with those things than without them."
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"But he's been. Really clear. That he's not mad at me for bringing him back," he finishes. "Or bringing you back." He's also not going to say Steve thought he did the right thing. He feels like that would be rubbing salt in Annie's wounds. But not being mad, that's safe enough. "I would've understood if he was. If you were."
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"I'll get a brush," she scampers up to the bathroom and returns with a hair tie as well.
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B sinks onto the couch at last, himself, half-turned against the arm, and pats the cushion next to him. Not too close, hopefully, but where he can get at her hair.
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It's easier when she isn't facing him to try, fail, try again to speak. "I'm sorry I was stupid."
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He runs his fingers over the weaved bit with Sweeney's hair, not sure whose it is, though there's only so many red-headed people on this Barge. And she did mention Sweeney, so it's probably his. "There anything special you want me to do with this? Or should I leave it out of my own braid?"
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She's thinking about what he'd said, though. "What makes you happy, B?"
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He thinks about it seriously for a moment, as he brushes out her hair, careful to avoid unweaving Sweeney's hair in the process. He doesn't think chocolate and soft things really cut it anymore. Apparently he's gotten more complicated since then. "I don't think I know anymore," he admits. "What makes you happy?"
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She lets herself just enjoy the feel of his fingers. "I really want you to know what makes you happy, too. You're able to find out here, aren't you? Like...more than you could at home. It's safer for you to learn about yourself here?"
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