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buckrogers · 14 days ago

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Somebody pls correct me if I'm wrong, but one thing I noticed while rewatching CATFA is how, in the first part of the movie, Bucky is always the one to initiate physical touch with Steve -- while in the second part, the opposite is true.

Allow me to elaborate.

I hardly need to mention alley!Bucky throwing his arm around Steve's neck and pulling him into his side, tugging him along towards "the future". Shortly after that, there's this blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, when he catches Steve before Steve tries to enlist again:

Bucky could have simply called his name to get Steve's attention, but he chooses to accompany that with a gentle touch to Steve's back instead.

[ which is such a tiny detail, but I believe it's worth mentioning because: 1) I'm a sucker for little gestures that are seemingly irrelevant but really speak to how comfortable the characters are with each other; and 2) in the context of Steve being partially deaf, something like this makes me think of a younger Bucky, learning early on that touch was much more likely to get him Steve's attention than vocal cues alone, especially in crowded/loud places where it would have been difficult to pick up Bucky's voice amongst the noise. And he's so used to it after all these years, that he does it unthinkingly, sometimes even when it's not necessary. ] [ but that would need its own post I guess sdksjdk ]

And then, of course, there's their goodbye hug. And the way Bucky makes a point of walking back just to wrap Steve in his arms one last time, putting his weight into it and hooking his chin over Steve's shoulder just to lock their bodies together for a moment, well that is just, yeah. *screams*

But once Steve gets the serum? Once he shows up in Kreischberg to rescue Bucky, all buffed up and a whole head taller, with no backup except for his own muscles and the power of love? From here on out, it's always going to be Steve reaching for Bucky first.

It's Steve pulling him up from the lab table, Steve cupping Bucky's face in his hand, Steve hanging back and reaching his arm out to Bucky when Bucky is visibly struggling to keep up with him. Steve grabbing Bucky to help him hoist himself over the railing, Steve holding onto Bucky's arm and eventually, reluctantly letting go of him, watching on with anguish written all over his face.

It's Steve clapping Bucky on the back when they've finally made their way back to camp. Steve, once more, resting his hand on Bucky's shoulder at the end of the bar scene.

There's a clear turning point somewhere in here, after which Bucky never initiates physical contact anymore. Not on screen, anyway.

Which could mean nothing. But I love to read too much into things, and I just thought it might be interesting to take a closer look at this.

I'm probably projecting my own issues on him here, but Bucky has always struck me as the kind of person who tends to isolate himself when he's hurting. You know, the kind who'd rather just curl up somewhere quiet, away from everyone else, to nurse their wounds in private, only resurfacing when they've got all those emotions back "under control", bottled up inside where they belong.

For one, this would tie in with the model of masculinity Bucky would have been fed since he was a child. A real man is strong, a real man is a provider, a real man suffers quietly and never breathes a word of it to anyone; he doesn't bleed all over his loved ones, he keeps his shit together and fixes what's broken, no fuss.

And indeed, we see Bucky do this with Steve all time. He's always putting on a brave face with Steve, always doing his darndest to cover up his own fears and insecurities with a smile, a joke, a casual shrug, trying to shoulder the weight of his pain alone, even though Steve can see right through him most of the time.

Which is why it wouldn't surprise me if, at least in the early stages post-rescue, Bucky were to withdraw into himself. Put some distance between himself and Steve while he tries to come to terms with everything he'd been through, until he feels a little less brittle, a little less like he'll come apart with the first strong breeze. Until he feels solid ground under his feet again.

He wouldn't do so consciously -- but retreating into old coping mechanisms, no matter how unhealthy, is an easy trap to fall into, and at some point the behavior becomes so ingrained into you that it's your first natural response. The little bubble of security you turn to. And that's hard to un-learn. And when Steve rescues him from the hydra facility, Bucky is grappling with so many painful things at once, that he just needs something, somewhere safe to retreat into.

In this sense, the lack of physical touch on Bucky's part, when he used to be so easily tactile in his relationship with Steve, so comfortable with being all up in Steve's space, with tugging Steve into his space, would be one of the most blatant signs of the pain he carries within.

Bucky feels unmoored, displaced. Everything in his world has been turned upside down, and nothing is the way it was supposed to be anymore.

He's been through hell, and he probably thought he was going to die in there, tied to that cold slab of metal in a dark bowel of a room, too out of it to even remember where he was. But not only has he come out the other side somehow, he now has to deal with the aftermath of what Zola has done to him. And he has no fucking idea what that was. All he knows is that he's been changed, and he can feel it, and that's fucking terrifying.

Steve was supposed to be home safe, but he's out here instead, running straight towards certain death with open arms.

It used to be just the two of them in their own codependent little bubble, but now Steve's world is rapidly expanding, and everybody wants a piece of him.

[ A quick tangent: I think this shot from the movie paints the perfect picture in that respect.

It kinda speaks for itself, doesn't it? Steve, at the heart of the crowd, the center of everybody's attention, and all these people - even the very same people who laughed and jeered at him and called him Tinkerbell just a week ago - reaching for him, grabbing for him, cheering for their newfound hero. And Bucky?

Bucky's right behind Steve. His shadow. His double. Quiet. The brittle smile already gone from his lips and from his eyes. Fading into the background.

It's not that he minds that Steve's in the spotlight. Hell, he pushed Steve in the spotlight ("Let's hear it for Captain America," was it?), and by doing so he also spared Steve from facing the consequences of his insubordination, because who the fuck would punish a universally celebrated war hero, right? And besides, how could he watch Steve's six if he were standing anywhere else?

But.

But some place deep in his heart hurts. ]

Imagine how he must feel, watching Steve be the best version of himself that he can be, while Bucky himself is falling apart, and doing a poor job of hiding it. How scared he must be, feeling the change churn inside him like some sort of poison, wondering how long before he'll turn into a monster just like Schmidt did. How soon before he starts shedding his skin, before the horror lurking underneath it is revealed to him and to everyone around him?

Hearing Steve confirm that this is Permanent, that the serum Amplifies -- and what if it latched onto the ugliest parts buried deep inside Bucky, and amplified those instead of what good he had in him?

Perhaps this is one more reason why he hesitates to touch Steve, to get any closer than necessary: the fear slowly eating away at him. The doubt slithering under his skin. Is he even still human? Was he truly saved or was it already too late? Does he still deserve a place in Steve's life? Does Steve even need him at all, now?

The feelings of inadequacy. Him, chewed up and spat out by the war, worn thin, made bitter, made angry, made into something twisted and wrong, juxtaposed with Steve, glowing, golden Steve, with his eagerness and his ideals and his strength and his big, pure heart.

And you know what makes my heart ache? Despite all of this, you can still see Bucky gravitating towards Steve all the time. Leaning towards him even when their bodies don't touch. Like he longs to be close again, but he's not sure how. Not yet.

Which is not to say that he never gets past this stage. After all, this is only what we see on screen, and there's a whole fucking lot that the movie doesn't show us - but what the hell, we can fill in those gaps ourselves. And where I'm concerned, imagining the moment when Bucky finally breaks down in Steve's arms, when he lets Steve hold him and finally allows himself to hold on to him too, like he's needed to do for so long, is as heartbreaking as it is satisfying.

Now, I know I've already rambled on forever, but there's another angle to this that I'd like to look at.

On the matter of flipping the initial dynamic presented between them...

We know how, from the very start, Steve and Bucky are written to be each other's mirror image: identical and opposite at once.

They go through the same metamorphosis, but where Steve actively takes part in Erskine's experiment, Bucky is dragged into Zola's lab against his will. Steve gets to choose; Bucky is forced into it without so much as a warning.

Steve's transformation is clear and instantly visible, and the camera pans over his golden body awash with light, as he sighs in relief, no longer in pain. Bucky's change is subtle, sneaky; it creeps up on him from the inside, unknown, undescribed, foreign, unnatural; a feeling like a chill up his spine. He's not aware of how much, nor in what ways, his body has been changed, until he starts to see the signs. Until the symptoms start to show, like a disease.

When we see him in the aftermath of his own transformation, Bucky doesn't look like a powerful demi-god ready to sprint after the bad guy, like Steve did. Bucky is doubled over in pain. He's weak, he can barely stumble after Steve, hunched over, occasionally holding his stomach, and there's a recent scrape on his cheekbone, a spot of dried blood, like they had to brutally subdue him before they could get him strapped down to the table Steve found him on.

Where Steve is a miracle of science, Bucky is the product of a waking nightmare.

CATFA plays with this "opposites" theme a lot, going so far as to completely flip over the dynamic between Bucky and Steve in every possible way.

In the beginning, Bucky is introduced as Steve's protector, his good and caring friend who rescues him from bullies, who tries to talk some sense into him, who sees him and supports him ("You've got nothing to prove"), who wants to keep him safe.

But after Steve gets the serum, their roles are reversed. Suddenly, Steve is the protector to Bucky's dude-in-distress. Steve is the strong righteous man, the knight in shining armor rescuing Bucky from the people who mean him harm.

In the beginning, we constantly see Bucky seeking Steve out. It's Bucky finding him in the alley, as though he could sense that Steve's in trouble; it's Bucky talking him into going to the fair, and later finding Steve when Steve strays from the group. It's Bucky coming to Steve for a last goodbye, walking back just to hug him, always reaching out first.

But later on, this pattern is, again, reversed. Steve comes to Bucky's rescue. Steve seeks Bucky out at the pub, when Bucky has deliberately isolated himself from the newly-formed team. Steve takes that first step and asks him, dressing it in a half-joke, if Bucky will stay by his side.

It's like there's always one of them chasing after the other, and they only ever come together for a brief moment, just to be ripped apart again.

And the one time they're reaching for each other at the same time, right there at the end? They fail.

They're not allowed to touch. The story won't let them.

They try, desperately try, but they literally just… can't reach.

How's that for some star-crossed lovers, huh.

Finally, I just think it's fucking hilarious how this significant shift only happens after Steve hits his magical growth spurt and becomes, visually, the ideal standard of cis straight masculinity. Once he's finally A Real Man(TM) both on the inside and especially on the outside - someone that all women will desire and all men will admire. And I say it's fucking hilarious because:

1) the hypermasculine macho man the writers were probably hoping to write is actually just a really sweet, awkward guy who barely shows any interest in the girls thrown at him, and whose most meaningful, most tender relationship is with another guy. oops

2) by applying this heteronormative lens to Steve's relationship with Bucky, making them each other's yin and yang, the hero and his damsel, the typically masculine role vs the typically feminine role, actively pursuing vs being pursued, the writers actually played themselves! 'Cause even while they refuse to allow Bucky to be Steve's official love interest, the narrative that they built with their own hands is literally out here pushing the idea of Steve as, well, Steve as Bucky's strong alpha male, for lack of a better word

3) in a movie in which Steve is (quite forcefully) pursued by two separate women, the only person Steve actively pursues is another man.

See? Fucking hilarious, dude.

#weeping into my hands in the corner it's so fine #otp: but i knew him

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