How the Avengers would react and other random one shots

It was wrong

And other one-shots 

Steve in the forties and bi so internalized homophobia. With the serum it "went away" because Peggy but when Bucky comes back so do his feelings.

Headcannon that Steve was bi and in the forties and him and Bucky were dating but his brain occasionally told him it was wrong and a sickness like everyone had said (Which Bucky quickly shut down). When Steve got the serum and quickly lost Bucky he developed feelings for Peggy so he thought 'oh that's a girl I must be fixed it must've been a disease.'

When Bucky comes back it takes a while for Steve to realize he still had feelings for the older boy and since he has the serum he can't be gay unless of course it isn't a disease.

Basically Steve becomes Captain America and he struggles with everything that comes with it.

Timelines are a little messed up in this.

Steve comes out the capsule looking down and not recognizing the body he's in. And within weeks he loses Bucky. His Bucky.

He finds himself staring in mirrors, trying to reconcile this new reflection with the man Bucky had held close in their cramped Brooklyn apartment. When Peggy catches his eye, it feels like salvation - a chance to be normal, to be what society expects. But at night, his dreams are still filled with steel-blue eyes and a crooked smile that had always felt like home.

Him and Peggy become closer and when Steve realizes he likes her he is crushed by realizing he was sick. Now he is cured. It was a disease. Peggy's a girl and Steve likes her so Steve likes girls.

He throws himself into the tour and shows, into being Captain America, because that identity feels safe. It's a role where everything is clear-cut, black and white. No thoughts just what he has to say and do.

He finds Peggy after every show. Somehow being closer to her just makes everything better and when Peggy leans in for that first kiss Steve happily kisses back. Peggy's nice. She's knows what she wants and she's beautiful and she likes Steve and Steve likes her and its' acceptable.

Sometimes, late at night when he can't sleep, Steve wonders if this is what happiness is supposed to feel like - this careful arrangement of feelings, this deliberate construction of normalcy. But he pushes those thoughts away, buries them deep beneath his new muscles and broader shoulders. He's Captain America now, and Captain America doesn't question these things.

He tells himself that these doubts are just leftover echoes from before the serum, that they'll fade with time like all his other ailments did. After all, Captain America represents the ideal - and the ideal doesn't struggle. The papers praise his relationship with Agent Carter, and Steve learns to smile for the cameras, even as his mind is screaming.

When Peggy wants him to land safety he hesitates but he crashes into the ice anyway.

The ice feels like absolution. As the cold creeps in, Steve thinks of Bucky falling, of Peggy's voice crackling over the radio, and wonders if maybe this is his penance - for not being able to save one, for not being able to love the other the way she deserves. His last thought before darkness claims him is that maybe, in the ice, he won't have to pretend anymore.

When Steve wakes up it's in a hospital but something is off and he looks to the game on. He was at that game. It's prerecorded and he bursts out.

He finds himself in a new world, one that's too bright, too loud, too different. The future sprawls before him like a neon-lit maze, and for a moment, he wishes he was back in the ice. But duty calls, and Steve Rogers - Captain America - has never been one to back down from a challenge.

When Bucky comes back, his Bucky, so do his feelings, and quickly. Once he is sure Bucky is okay and settled in the tower he sits in his room the lights off. The serum was supposed to heal him. It was supposed to make him normal. God, Bucky can never find out he's hate him.

He gets up and paces the room, memories flooding back - shared cigarettes on fire escapes, the way Bucky's eyes would crinkle when he laughed. The serum was supposed to fix everything wrong with him, but these feelings are stronger than ever, burning through his chest with an intensity that makes him gasp. Maybe it wasn't a sickness after all, but Steve doesn't know if he's ready to face what that means.

He sits again on the cold hard floor head in his hands and a bit of light creeps through the doorway. "Stevie?" Bucky says sounding worried seeing the large man huddled on the floor in the pitch black. "What's wrong?"

The nickname hits something in Steve making tears fill his eyes. God why is he such a fucking baby. He's so dumb and stupid and- Bucky sits next to him holding Steve like he used to even though he's much bigger now. The door had been closed and blackness surrounding the room again.

"I'm sorry I don't know why I'm being such a baby," He says.

"Steve. Don't." Bucky says. "Don't talk bad we agreed on that one how many years ago now?" He jokes.

"Says you," Steve jokes back and Bucky laughs.

"Alright than. But seriously what's up?" Bucky says only causing Steve to frown again.

"I..." Steve starts, his voice barely above a whisper in the darkness. "The serum was supposed to fix everything wrong with me, Buck. But these feelings... they're still here. They never went away."

Bucky's arm tightens around him, and Steve can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. "What feelings, Stevie?" Bucky asks, his voice gentle but knowing, as if he already understands exactly what Steve means. He always understood what he meant, they could practically read each other mind's ever since they met.

Steve swallows hard, his hands trembling slightly in the dark. "For you, Buck," he finally whispers, the words feeling like they're being torn from his chest. "These feelings for you. The serum only fixed it for a bit I liked Peggy but it faded. I'm gross again." He says in disgust.

There's a sharp intake of breath from Bucky, and then suddenly his metal hand is cupping Steve's face, forcing him to look up. "Don't you ever say that about yourself again," Bucky's voice is fierce, protective. "You ain't gross, Steve. You never were. Being gay isn't a sickness. The serum didn't fix it because it doesn't need to be fixed and neither do you."

Tears well up in Steve's eyes again, but this time they're different - a release rather than a burden. "But everyone always said..." he starts, his voice breaking. Bucky pulls him closer, resting his chin on top of Steve's head like he used to do when they were younger.

"Everyone else can go to hell," Bucky murmurs into Steve's hair. "I loved you then, and I love you now. Nothing about that needs fixing."

"What?" Steve says. Bucky loved him? He didn't find him gross he reciprocated the feeling.

Bucky's metal fingers card through Steve's hair, gentle and grounding. "Yeah, punk. Been in love with you since we were kids in Brooklyn. Thought you knew that."

Steve's breath catches in his throat, and he turns to look at Bucky in the darkness, barely able to make out the soft smile on his face. The world seems to still around them, and for the first time since waking up in this century, Steve feels like he's truly home.

"Think about it this way. We love each other. And does it feel bad or wrong?" Bucky says.

"No. Feels good, feels right." Steve says after thinking for a moment.

"Exactly," Bucky smiles.

Steve tucks himself closer to Bucky's side, feeling the last remnants of decades-old shame finally start to melt away. In this moment, wrapped in Bucky's arms in the dark, everything makes perfect sense. Love isn't something that needs to be fixed - it just is. It's easier to believe when he's in the arms of the man he loves.