fugue // stucky

3. If

My heart rate escalates the entire 15 floor ride. There's one other person in the elevator. She's short and old. I step out and wish that the heat wasn't on. Does every floor have a desk with a blonde? I wonder if they're all just robots. Probably. This is Stark Tower after all.

"How can I help you?" I hear for the third time today. They're very polite robots, I'll give them that.

"Um, I'm looking for-"

"Bucky?" I hear the voice and immediately know it. My heart jumps and I turn.

"Steve," I let out a breath and suck another in.

He walks toward me, opening his arms, but then realizing maybe a hug isn't the way to go. I look him up and down, analyzing him. Making sure he's Steve.

"Hi, bitsy," I try to break some ice. His eyes show mixed emotions. Happiness, sadness, longing. I stay straight-faced, awaiting a reaction. He laughs lowly and coughs.

"How are you?" His voice is pitchy. I feel bad. Am I making him uncomfortable? Maybe coming here wasn't a good idea.

"I'm okay, I'm confused. I came here because I know you, and I don't have that connection with much these days.." I look up at him. He is staring at me. His brows are furrowed. His eyes are sad.

"And, because I saw you on television. You were talking to me," I try to lighten the mood. He notices my attempt and smiles.

"Never would've thought back then," he chuckles and I nod, thinking back to when we would huddle around the television and talk about movie stars. I resist the urge to write it down. I don't want Steve to think I'm odd.

"How about you come into my room? I have one here, it's nice, bud. You'll feel at home," he guides me down a hall. This place has so many halls. I like Steve. I can see why he's my best friend. He's also very handsome.

He turns into a room and I follow. It's cooler in here. My cheeks are still red though. I think I'm being too awkward.

"Make yourself at home," Steve gestures, but seems a little tense himself. I nod and unclip the front strap of my backpack, and sliding it off of me. I sit on the far end of the white couch and set my things on the floor. I sit up straight. I don't want to get Steve's couch dirty.

He sits down next to me, a little too far, "you said you're confused? Is everything okay?" Steve asks. I look over at him, a little puzzled he is asking. His eyes focus on me, and I find it a bit intimidating.

"I just don't really know who I am, Steve. People are calling me The Winter Soldier, but that's not me," I put my head in my hands and tug at my hair, "that man killed people. That man fought you! I've never done any of that. You're my best friend. Or- you were my best friend," I catch myself. I don't want to seem too strong.

"No, bud. I'm your best friend," he puts a hand on my knee. I look over at him and he flashes me a toothy grin, "but, about the other guy.." His face falls.

"You were- we were, on a mission in 1945 together.. along with another guy-" Steve starts, squeezing my knee gently and pulling away. His voice is caught. He seems distressed.

"Someone from the Howling Commandos?" I interrupt, trying to clear up some fog on my brain.

Steve's eyes light up. He looks proud. I smile. Steve is proud of me. "Yes! Yes, his name was Gabe Jones."

"Do you mind if I write this down?" I ask awkwardly, awaiting no as the answer.

"Oh, yes, of course, whatever you want, bud," Steve smiles at me. I reach below me and pull out a notebook and pencil. I scribble 'Gabe Jones' under my previous note 'The Howling Commandos.'

"Us three were on a mission, to stop the train Dr. Zola was on-"

"Who's he?" I interrupt, readying my pencil.

Steve's face falls. His eyes seem glossy, "the devil himself. He is the one that experimented on you.. he's the one that made you do the things you did." His jaw clenches and his eyes tear up. He is upset.

I write down, 'Zola. Devil. Experimented on me. Made me do bad things.'

"We were going to kill him. I should've killed him. Gabe didn't kill him," Steve sniffles and clears his throat, "a hydra gun blew a hole in the train. You tried to shoot him, but he blew you out of the car-" Steve's voice cracks. I'm writing all of this down. I look up. I want to comfort him, but I don't know how.

"You can stop now, it's okay-"

"No. No, you deserve to know. He blew you out of the car, but you caught onto a railing. You trusted me to grab you-" he stops, "but I couldn't. I couldn't save you. I'm sorry," he lets out a sob, "I couldn't reach you, and you fell. I'm eternally sorry for that, Bucky." Tears trail down his face. I stare at him with wide eyes. My heart hurts. I don't know what comes over me. I hug him. My arms wrap around his shoulders. He hugs me back, squeezing me extremely tight.

"I'm never going to let you fall again," he whispers and I feel a weird jolt in my heart.

"It wasn't your fault," I try to reason with the weeping man in my arms. Seeing Steve upset is making me upset. A small tear falls down my cheek but I'm quick to wipe it away.

"That's not true," he pulls away from me and looks into my eyes, "If I would have reached farther, if I would have jumped after you, if-"

"Stop saying if, Rogers. Either of those could've played out the same way, or worse. It's okay, you're forgiven. I'm okay. You're okay," words fumble out of my mouth. I think this is the first real conversation I've had in 70 years.

He yanks me into another hug, "I've missed you, Buck. I want you to stay with me."

My eyes widen. Stay with him? Live with him?

"I don't think Stark Tower is the place for me," I try to make an excuse.

"I don't live here, I live out in the city. I'm only staying here now for press," Steve explains.

"I also live in the city. I don't want to be in your hair," I mutter, shifting my eyes around the room, touching anything but his strong gaze. I think he notices my subtle rejection and he looks hurt at first, but quickly regains his composure.

"Okay, well, if you ever change your mind.. call me," he says, and takes the pencil out of my hand, marking his phone number into my notebook. I read it over and over, engraving the digits into my brain.

"Thank you," I whisper, a small smile flashing across my face. Best friends call each other. Best friends like Steve and I.

"I'm glad you're back, Buck," Steve whispers after a while of comfortable silence. I do feel comfortable with Steve, and I love it. My soul feels at rest with him.

I look across. His face is stern. My eyes fall over his face. His soft but sharp jawline that curves into his defined cheek bones. They're tinted a light pink. My eyes move to his acute nose, the end perked up in the air. I look at his lips. They're dark, soft, and sculpted. I bring myself to look into his eyes. They're piercing into me. His gaze is intense, I feel small and weak under it. I blink at a faster pace than normal, trying to clear my thoughts as I study the man before me. His hair is soft and fallen, gently dusting over his long eyelashes. I offer a small smile and mutter, "me too."