WE HAVE TIME

"This must be strange for you." T'Challa commented, picking up his robes and carefully sitting besides Curio. Curio tilted his head in his direction - the only sign he was paying attention. "Seeing your world, but it not being your own."

Curio hummed, dragging his hand through the water. He'd been sat besides the lake that nearly drowned him for hours, the sun setting on his back and giving him a last few dregs of warmth. His face was vacant, his eyes unfocused. Something was on his mind. Someone. "I guess."

"You're quite the talker," T'Challa cheekily grinned, waiting for a reaction from Curio. He did nothing. T'Challa's smile dropped, his gaze remaining on Curio. "I have a friend I think you might want to meet. He reminds me of you."

"No offence your Highness, but you can't find someone like me. I'm a limited edition." Curio lifted his hand out of the water, shaking his hand dry.

"Humour me."

Curio sighed. "Look, I have more important things to do than meeting your friend. I need to find my friends, and I need to get this Thanos business over and done with. That isn't high on my list of priorities."

T'Challa cocked a brow. "There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity. I'd be more careful what you say."

"Sorry." Curio looked up, deep brown eyes connecting to T'Challa's. "I have a lot on my mind, I wasn't thinking."

T'Challa rose, a hand landing on Curio's shoulder. He was tempted to shrug off the sudden weight; he fought against it. He'd already insulted the king once, he wasn't going to do it again. "Maybe you need a distraction."

He gave one final squeeze, his robes swirling around his ankles as he traipsed through the grass. He walked with a grace that bewildered Curio, his mind whirring. All of his thoughts had been consumed by Octavian, Locusta and even Messalina the moment he understood where he was. Maybe the king was right.

"Wait!" Curio shouted after him, scrambling to his feet. T'Challa simply spun in a circle, a twitch on the corner of his mouth. Curio coughed, scratching the back of his head. "It can't hurt to have one conversation, right?"

*

Curio never regretted anything more in his life. He was stood outside of a plain hut, his palms sweating and heart erratic. He couldn't explain why he was nervous - he had the confidence to sass a king, so surely this should be something he could take in his stride? Curio didn't want to think that it could be because if T'Challa is right about them being like Curio. He didn't want someone to be like him. Already everything had been taken from him - he didn't want to be stripped of his individuality too.

He took a calming breath, subtly rolling his shoulders back. He needed to have a relaxed posture. He needed to have a cheeky smirk on his face, similar to the one Octavian would make when Curio made an innuendo, the scar in Octavian's lip slightly twisting the gesture but Curio always saw past the sinister looking mask to the mischievous boy behind it.

He hated how his cheeks were warmer.

Barely having any time to collect himself, T'Challa left the hut, an unknown figure in tow. He remained in T'Challa's shadow, obscuring his identity from Curio. T'Challa was grinning at Curio, stepping aside to let the person be known.

Curio had to rein in a gasp.

It was James Buchanan fucking Barnes.

His jaw dropped. He took back what he said earlier about being nothing like this man - being compared to him was the highest compliment he could ever receive. He looked just like he did on the picture on the back wall in Strange's studio, with his hair brushing his shoulders and a tranquil expression veiled across his face. His arm gleamed in the light, with the once damning star on his arm having been erased, replaced with gold lining the crevices. It was truly a masterpiece.

Before he could process it, the words slipped past his lips. "I love your arm!"

"You love it?" Bucky looked at T'Challa warily, eyes flitting quickly back to Curio. "Thanks. I think."

Curio beamed, staring at Bucky. He found every time he tried to pull his gaze away from there was resistance, and he was back to taking the man in, savouring every bit of his glory. The speed of his speech picked up, so fast hardly any of it was coherent. "Of course I love it! It's so beautiful and bad ass and is that gold woven into it or is it painted on? I bet it's actual gold which makes it even cooler and wow it's just breathtaking and just holy shi-"

Curio took a deep breath, sucking all of the oxygen he needed back into his body. He opened his mouth to ramble again when T'Challa cut in. "James, this is Curio. Curio, this is James."

Bucky thrust his hand out for Curio to shake. Curio's heart was palpitating, his mind racing a million miles an hour. He prayed that his palms weren't as sweaty as he felt like they were, and reached for his hand.

He pulled back immediately.

He concealed his right arm behind his back, slipping his hand in his back pocket in the hopes that it looked more natural. It was more jumbled than he wanted it to be, his frantic movements making him appear to be like a game character glitching. Fear clouded his mind - his hero was going to think he was a freak, was a weirdo and want nothing to do with him. He cursed himself, his finger nails curling into the tender skin of his right, deeply scarred palm. Why couldn't he just be normal?

Bucky caught sight of his hand, his face remaining impassive at Curio's action. He offered his other hand out instead. Curio's fingers relaxed, and he gladly accepted the handshake, a small smile lighting up his face. It was firm and solid, but not too tight. It had just the right amount of strength and tenderness to remind him that he was still tethered to this earth, and not suffocated by it. His cheeks had a splash of red across them, him internally praying that Bucky did't mention it.

"Curio's an interesting name." Bucky commented, releasing their hands and gesturing for him to follow. Curio eagerly obeyed, not even noticing when T'Challa left the pair alone.

"I chose it myself, of course it's great." Bucky sent him a confused look. "It's a code name. All of the members of the resistance have them."

"So why Curio?"

Curio chuckled slightly, hands delving into his pockets. He kept his gaze forward, never able to quench the thirst he had for the landscape. He always wanted to see more. "We're all named after prominent members of Roman history. Curio was the apprentice of a infamous orator, and had a way with words. Like me in a way, except mine are more literal."

"Literal?"

Curio stopped walking, turning his focus on Bucky. He stared him in the eyes, never looking away. His voice took on a commanding tone that shook him to the bone. "You want to ask about my hand, don't you?"

"What happened to your hand?" The moment the words passed his lips Bucky's eyes widened, immediately taking it back. "I don't know what came over me, I just -" He paused. "That's what you meant, isn't it?"

Curio simply nodded, tearing his gaze away. Bucky smiled.

"So, I hear you're not from round here?"

Curio perked up. His hero wanted to know about him. "Yeah, that's a long story."

"We have time."

-

hey guys! this is officially the last chapter that i have written, so from now on this book will be on hiatus. i am really sorry.

see you guys soon, i promise.

-thirdwheelchurchill