Chapter Text
The lights go up from "ominous darkness with something glowing in front of them" to "all-around low brightness." People start chattering and shuffling around -- strangers, and they sound close...
But that's okay. The guy in the seat next to him, the guy he's leaning on, will have his back.
A leather-gloved hand absently pats his shoulder.
He nuzzles against a broad chest, hugging more closely around--
"Yeah, okay, not doing that." Another hand, a much sturdier one, gently pries his clinging arm off his companion's waist. "Save it for the third date."
He jolts back in shock, sitting up straight, knocking the arm off his shoulders.
"Whoa, hey there," says the man beside him. "You back with us?"
The whole scene is dim and blurry. He keeps blinking, and it's not making anything clearer. One realization does hit through the fog, and he says this one out loud: "You...are not Jake."
A fond smile, a voice that's warm and (just a little) amused: "Aww, you thought I was Jake?"
He digs his knuckles into his temples, trying to stave off a headache, as he looks around the room. "Where...?"
"Movie theater. Back row. Jersey City," says the guy. "Not actually a date. That part was a joke."
Details resolve around them as the words flow in. Rows of padded seats. Dark walls on three sides, big white screen up front. Neon green emergency-exit signs. A handful of other people, all in motion -- away from them, and down.
"Uh -- 2027? The real world? A real world, anyway. The one most of your friends live in."
"...Barnes?"
"Yeah," says Bucky. In one of the sleeveless tac vests he likes to wear on missions, but with a plain grey collared shirt under it, so the arm doesn't show. "Marc?"
"Think so," says...probably Marc. Wouldn't have thought he was cuddling Jake if he was Jake. Wouldn't be so flustered about it if he was Steven. "I, uh. I lost some time."
"We noticed," says Bucky dryly. "Hang on a second, I'll text Layla you're back."
He shows them the screen with the text exchange before sending it. They're not with-it enough to actually read the words, so they just nod approval.
"What's the last thing you remember?"
Oh, that's going to take a minute.
It hasn't been long since they and Wanda wrestled their way out of the Regent's Park Hex...so the part of their brain that's still scrubbing off sticky bits of sitcom-reality tries to fill in the gaps:
They went on the road for an away game of [Generic Unspecified High School Sport]. With Bucky and Sam, the cool seniors on the team that Marc really looks up to. Obviously Sam is team captain...
"Those are the not-real memories," thinks Steven. "At least...not from the real world most of our friends live in."
Right. In real-reality, they don't go to the same school. They don't even live on the same continent. Marc and his family are traveling to visit Barnes and Wilson, because...
"Gotta get used to travelin' again some time," thinks Jake. "Had to visit someone. And we figured...our real memories and experiences got blocked by a mind-controlling enemy, we're still struggling and havin' weird episodes while it all comes back...we all figured we could handle that happening in front of Barnes."
Okay. Good planning on their part, because it sure feels like they're coming back from a hell of an episode.
But why are they coming back in Jersey...?
"Rats!" says Marc out loud.
Bucky looks up from his phone. (He had to take the glove off his non-vibranium hand to type.) "Was that just an expression, or did you remember?"
Someone called an Avengers mission, it was right across the river, they figured they would have to get back in the saddle at some point, and how hard could it be to fight..."Bunch of tiny -- creepy -- robot rats?"
"Oh good!" Bucky stuffs the phone back in his vest pocket. "That was earlier this evening. You've lost a couple hours, tops."
Marc sinks back into the padded theater seat, kneading at his temples to stave off a headache. "You remember who showed up?"
"Ms. Marvel was the one who called for backup." Something on the remaining glove catches Bucky's attention; he starts picking at it. "You, me, Sam, and Layla were the first group to respond. Not sure if anyone else made it."
Okay, he sort of remembers that. Him and Layla, blades out, chopping up swarms of little robots. Sam and Bucky bickering about whether these were complex enough to count as androids. Kamala Khan using her embiggen trick on her boots, stomping the targets by the sparkly dozens, quipping about how she stomped way creepier things while she was in space...
"Or, did you mean -- Going by the suit, you were Marc when we were doing recon." Bucky pries a bent sliver of metal out of his glove. "Then Marc and Jake tag-teamed the fight."
That makes sense. Small team-up. All friends. All people they're comfortable being switchy around. Neither of them had to be disciplined about not fronting...they could relax, do what came naturally, get blendy if they felt like it, both have some fun...
"Steven only tapped in at the beginning." Bucky leans over the row of seats in front of them, grabbing somebody's abandoned soda cup. It's a handy vessel for the scrap of recently-punched rat-bot, so he doesn't end up tossing it on the carpet like so much popcorn. "I think the rats creeped him out."
Maybe they got a little too relaxed. The memories are all slippery, maybe out-of-order. They have a vague idea of Steven being out at some point...it's a shared memory now, but it must've come from Steven, he was really panicking about the rat-bots underfoot...
"Then, well."
...Someone was mad at him. A woman with long dark hair.
"We steered Sam and Kamala away from seeing you...figured we should let you keep it as private as possible..."
Except, no, that was Layla. And that face doesn't mean she's mad at anyone -- just surprised. Which of them thought she was angry?
"...but me and Layla have met the girl, now."
The little theater has completely emptied out.
Which means there's nobody around to hear the moment when their ears catch up with Bucky's recap, and Marc blurts, "What girl?"
"Uh." Bucky does his own round of rapid blinking. "I tried asking her name, but -- You have more than one?"
"We don't -- Barnes, there aren't any girls in our head."
They have this sorted, okay? Steven figured out Marc, the two of them figured out Jake, all three figured out their Knight -- that's the end of it!
They're too old for more Headmate Reveals to keep popping out of the woodwork, they're fourt--
Bucky opens his mouth...then closes it, and nods. "Right. Sorry..."
--they're forty.
Besides, they're fresh off an extended struggle with a headspace-invading enemy. That was an all-hands-on-deck situation! Anyone else in this brain, that would've been the point for them to show up!
"Shouldn't have assumed..."
They probably just had some kind of age-regression episode, or it was all a big misunderstanding, or...
"...the suit could have a skirt for anyone, they don't have to be a girl."
...Oh.
"Wait," says Bucky. "Did you not..."
Team Moon Knight folds forward with a long groan, elbows digging into their knees, forehead resting with a thump on the back of the next seat down.
"Uh," says Bucky as he catches up. "...Surprise?"