YOU GUYS!!! This chapter came so naturally and I've been waiting for it since we finished Our Beginning. That's why you guys are getting this now rather than later.
I'm so excited for you to read it!!
BTW those flashback scenes? They're from Our Beginning but changed to the first person (that's actually why I wrote Our Beginning in the first place but thats not the point).
See you at the end.
2017
"Why the hell did you two wait so long to visit?" Daisy asks as they sat around the table.
Steve blushes. "Wanted to let Bucky get adjusted before we brought too many people around."
Bucky's beaming, even if Steve just admitted to being overly protective of Bucky during his transition back to society.
Daisy pats her brother's metal hand without batting an eye. "Well, it's good to have you two back together. And at least you didn't wait as long as Steve did."
"I didn't know you were alive!"
"You tried to bail on me. I found you outside having an asthma attack, remember?"
Bucky's face shifts to concern. "Your asthma's back?"
Steve's cheeks were on fire. "No, it was an, um, anxiety attack."
"Do you get those often?"
"Not nearly as often as I used to."
Daisy reaches over to take Steve's hand. "All is well now. Let's say grace and eat, I need to take my meds before 6:30."
Steve laughs and nods. He takes Bucky's hand in his, squeezing gently. "I'll start," he says quietly as their heads bow. "Dear heavenly father," Steve guides them in prayer, something he only ever does with Daisy, with a sincerity and emotion he hasn't shown in quite some time.
"Amen," they announce in unison before Steve starts to dish out the food for Daisy.
Daisy looks to Bucky, eyes wide with wonder. "I never thought I'd get to see you again," she admits.
"Neither did I," Bucky says softly, eyes bleary with tears.
"I always knew you'd come back to Steve and I," she starts, "it's in your DNA. You always come back to family, even if you don't know."
"Daise," Bucky tries.
"No, James. Steve told me some of the stuff he found out about your past. After everything you've been through, the universe has you bound to us. You two broke off your rel-" she clears her throat, "friendship before you went off to war. And yet you came back together. Then you had to go falling off that damn train and you," she points to Steve, "just had to crash that plane, only for you both to survive and come together again." She sniffles, using her napkin to wipe beneath her eyes. "I always rooted for you two. Always wished we'd get to do this."
Bucky stands from his seat and kneels beside her, both thumbs wiping at her cheeks. "You're still that sweet, beautiful young girl I loved to see growing up." He kisses her head. Daisy breaks down again, clinging to her brother like a small child. "I'm not going anywhere, not anymore."
He looks to Steve over Daisy's shoulder, his watery eyes a sharp blue. "I promise," he tells them both, "I'm here for good."
~*~*~*~
The first night it happened, Steve was shocked. He'd just settled into bed, a little drunk from his stash of Asgardian liquor, when the door creeps open. Steve sits up a little, hair already a mess and his face drooping with exhaustion.
Bucky's standing in the doorway, hunched and heavy looking.
"Buck?" Steve asks, voice hoarse. "You alright?"
He walks in and closes the door without a sound. "C-Can I sleep in here?" he asks softly, making his way towards Steve's bed. He's still trying to make himself look smaller. Oh, he's embarrassed...
"Yeah, sure." Steve slides over, making room for the ex-assassin. "You know you can talk to me, right?"
Bucky nods and climbs into bed, but stays over the covers. "You've made that clear."
Steve gives him a small smile and lays back down. "Good. Night, Bucky."
There's silence for a long moment, before Bucky whispers, "Night Steve."
The next night, Steve's reading some best seller that Sam recommended when the door creaks open again. He glances up and smiles. "You're just the person I need right now," he says quietly.
Bucky pauses. "I am?"
Steve nods and shifts to give Bucky room in the bed. "I'm reading this book Sam wanted me to read and it's brutal."
The brunet shuffles over and climbs into bed, looking more like a lost child than a man who just turned one-hundred not too long ago. "What's it about?"
"These two kids with cancer. Apparently it was pretty popular when I got out of the ice, but I was so busy catching up on history that I didn't get to delve that deep in pop culture. Anyways, it's a good book but I'm almost through with it..." Steve shakes his head. "I don't think it's going to end well."
Bucky raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Did you really expect a book about kids with cancer would end well?"
Steve shakes his head. "Yes, because unlike you Mr. Grump, I have hope."
He rolls his eyes before his face takes a more somber shape. "Can I sleep in here again?"
"Please? I don't think I'll be able to be alone once I finish," Steve chuckles.
Bucky gives him a thankful smile, like he knows Steve's just making up something to take the pressure off of Bucky. Like he knows what Bucky's really going through.
It starts to be a routine, where Bucky crawls into Steve's bed with a quiet "Please?" in the middle of the night. Sometimes he says it was just a nightmare, other times he says nothing at all. A few nights he'll just stay up and talk about the good ol' days, but he mostly just asks Steve questions about his day and work, anything that'll keep him distracted.
After a few weeks of Bucky sleeping with Steve, the captain's starting to get concerned. He's not worried about Bucky's stability (okay he is, but that's not his focus right now), but rather what Steve will do in his sleep. There's been plenty a night where Steve finds himself waking up with Bucky's name on his lips, sometimes in a horrible scream and others in a sensual moan. He doesn't want to freak Bucky out with either option, but he also has no control over his subconscious.
He's also enjoying sharing a bed far too much for platonic friends. How anyone thought they were straight boggles Steve, because there's no way he can spend every night sleeping beside Bucky without falling for him all over again. Everything in him hums when he wakes up in the middle of the night, body restless and bursting with energy, only to find the comforting heat of Bucky's body seeping through the comforter.
Eventually, Bucky stops sleeping on the covers and starts sleeping under them. Their legs end up tangled together and more often than not, they wake up curled around one another. Steve's always embarrassed, mumbling apology after apology to his best friend while he tries desperately to politely leave. Bucky's just confused.
One night, after they finish watching a movie Sam left them before he went to visit his mom, Steve announces he's going to bed. Bucky doesn't hesitate but to follow the captain to his room. The blond pauses in front of his dresser. "Buck?"
Bucky shrugs and starts to undress. "Figured I'd end up here anyways. Why bother messing up two beds when we could just mess up one?"
It took everything in Steve not to kiss the hell out of him.
"That... makes sense. I'll just be a minute, okay?" Bucky nodded and climbed into bed, leaving Steve to undress and get ready for bed. The captain did what he had to do and climbed in bed, clicking the lamp off.
They laid there in the dark, listening to the sounds of their breathing and the city outside. "Bucky?" Steve barely whispers.
Bucky's hoarse whisper replies, "Yeah Steve?"
"How come you always sleep with me? I-I don't mind, in fact I like that you sleep in here. I'm just... curious."
There's a long silence, like always when you talk to Bucky (Steve loves how contemplative he is now, even though it was probably developed after years of torture and amnesia). "It just feels right," he whispers finally. "I feel safer with you."
Steve grins and closes his eyes. "If it makes you feel a little better, I feel safer with you, too."
~*~*~*~
When Thanksgiving comes around, Steve can't be more excited. Finally, all of the Avengers and their families will be in one place since their civil war. Tony and Pepper are hosting at the compound and everyone's bringing something.
"Buck, we gotta get going if we're going to get there in time," Steve calls through the apartment as he puts the finishing touches on the casseroles he made.
"I'm ready, Jesus," Bucky curses as he appears in the kitchen. "What'd you end up making?"
"My Ma's sweet potato casserole and your Ma's green bean casserole. Figured if we were celebrating the holidays together again, we should have something that represents them, too." Steve covers up the dishes and looks to Bucky with a warm smile.
Bucky's got a soft, sad smile. "I wish we had more time with them."
Steve nods. "You and me both. Good news is, Sam's mom Darlene will basically adopt you. She's always looking for sad orphans to feed."
"You're terrible, Rogers."
"I try to be."
"C'mon, I want to eat."
The compound looked great, not that Steve expected it took any different. It was sleek and dramatic and completely Tony Stark, but Steve loved it. "You're sure they wanted me here?" Bucky asks, crowding behind Steve subtly.
"Yes," Steve reassures, "Tony knows I wouldn't show up otherwise."
"Yeah, but-"
Steve turns on him, "Bucky, I want you here. It's Thanksgiving and we always spend it together if we can. Got it?"
Bucky nods slowly with a small smile. "Lead the way, Cap."
The dining hall is packed. There's Tony and Pepper talking with Colonel Rhodes, and Sam. Happy's trying to corral Peter and Shuri from creating another robot (like Shuri could be so careless) while Thor and T'Challa made bets on whether or not Happy would excede. Bruce, Natasha, Clint, and Laura are catching up, the kids trying to get Natasha's attention. Hope is trying to keep Scott from bothering Dr. Strange, while Scarlet Witch and Vision look on. Even Daisy, Aunt May, and Darlene are there, talking quietly amongst themselves.
It's amazing.
Steve and Bucky set down their stuff and head over to the small group of ladies. Daisy's the first one to notice and the ninety-year-old rose to say hello. They both rushed to help her sit back down. "Sit while you can, Daise," Steve laughs as he presses a kiss to her cheek.
"I've been sitting for an hour, you knuckleheads!"
Bucky plants a kiss on her other cheek. "Then you can sit until it's time to eat," he tells her.
Daisy glares at them playfully. "Just because I'm old doesn't mean you two get to baby me."
"No, we get to baby you because you are the baby." Bucky smirks.
Daisy hits his arm and rolls her eyes, turning to the other ladies. "I hate having older super-soldier brothers."
Darlene laughs. "You're one lucky girl, though. I would have loved to have these two around all the time."
Steve grins as he hugs her. "Just say the word, Darlene, and you can move in."
"Don't tempt me, boy."
Steve flashes her a wink before he introduces himself and Bucky to Aunt May. Before they could really talk, however, Thor announces it's time to eat. Bucky and Steve help Daisy and Darlene to the table.
The Avengers and their families, for the first time in years, gathered around the extremely long table. Conversations bubbled among unlikely friends and poured out of old ones. Steve was filled with an abundance of joy, being surrounded by his best friends and his family.
"This isn't so bad," Bucky whispers to Steve under his breath.
"Told you," Steve counters, just as quiet. Thank you super hearing!
Tony clears his throat and from his end of the table, stands up with his glass held high. "I'd like to take a moment and thank you all for spending today with us. It... It's been a rough couple of years for all of us-"
"Well, you didn't have to fight each other. You kind of put that on yourself," Thor comments.
Tony glares at him. "I'd rather deal with an ego-clash than lose my eye to my sister."
"That was one time!"
"I'd hope so!" Sam laughs.
"Can I finish my speech or is it a lost cause?" Tony sighs. "I'll make this short, then. Steve, Bucky, the rest of your team, I'm glad we were able to fix most of our problems. It's great to have you back, Cap."
Steve blushes and raises his own glass. "It's great to be back." Tony sits back down, grumbling under his breath about how his beautiful, emotional speech was interrupted to Pepper.
Natasha smiles at Steve and turns to Bucky. "So, Barnes, how's the memory coming along?"
"It's been good," Bucky starts cautiously, "I remember a lot, but not everything."
Steve pats his shoulder. "That's better than nothing."
Bucky smiles softly at him. "It's all thanks to you. That book you gave me really helped spark some other memories."
"Do you remember growing up with Cap?" Peter asks, blatantly interested.
"Oh, I've got some stories." Bucky smirks. "Most of which, you might be too young for."
Steve rolls his eyes. "Shut up, Barnes. Don't make it sound worse than it was."
"Oh, like the time we snuck into the dressing room at Madison Square Garden?"
"I'm sorry, what?" Tony gasps.
Steve groans and hides his face. "I hate you, Barnes."
Meanwhile, Bucky's grinning and sits up, ready to dive into his story. "It was the winter after we graduated high school and we couldn't afford to go see this boxing match at the Garden. So being the masterminds we are, we figured with all of the boxing events going on that week the ladies' dressing rooms wouldn't have anyone in them. We sneak around the back where one of the windows to the rooms popped open. We sit there for," he looks to Steve for confirmation, "what, ten minutes?"
"If that," Steve sighs.
Bucky moves on. "Ten minutes just waiting to see if someone shows up. No one does, so I send Steve's skinny ass into the room to do a more thorough check. He gets through the window alright, but," Bucky's starting to laugh now and Daisy's giggling. Everyone's watching as Steve's blush grows red. "This punk doesn't get his footing right and face plants into the concrete, breaking his nose for the eighth time! To his credit, he tried to be quiet, but between his groans and the loud splat he made, three ladies screamed from behind a dressing curtain." Bucky pats Steve shoulder. "I ain't ever seen Steve run outta some place so face, nearly gave us both an asthma attack. I was laughing so hard."
"You weren't laughing when they banned us from the Garden for eternity," Steve countered.
A metal finger appears before Steve's face. "Touche."
"Are you still banned?" Peter asks, wide eyed.
Steve shrugs. "Maybe? Probably not. I haven't been back since they moved the Garden though."
"What was World War II like?" Clint's eldest son asks, with a few harsh whispers from his parents about rude questions.
Steve and Bucky shrug. "It wasn't anything we're used to now," Steve starts.
"Hell, I'd fight Nazis over being their puppet anyday," Bucky mumbles.
Daisy perks up, leaning closer to Bucky. "I wanna hear one of your war stories, Buck."
When Bucky turns to look at her, Steve swears he's back in his twenties. The way he smiles makes his heart skip a beat and those eyes... Bucky says, "There's not many I can tell you, doll."
"Oh please, your friends didn't have any trouble telling me about what you and Stevie would get up to," Daisy says without really thinking.
Steve's frozen, all of those happy feelings drained.
Bucky glances between Daisy and Steve, confused. "What did Steve and I get up to? I don't... That's not something I remember."
Daisy answers before Steve can think of an explanation. "DumDum always said you two would sneak off at night when you camped alone? He said that you two would wake up the whole camp with your shenanigans, especially with Steve's laugh. So what were you two doing out there?" She turns to Steve, an innocent curiosity that would have fit her perfectly back in the 40s.
"We played a lot of pranks," Steve answers quickly, blush growing. "A lot of stuff that the army wouldn't have liked. I'm honestly surprised you heard about it, because it would have gotten us both kicked out of the army posthumously if word got out."
Bucky raises an eyebrow. "It would?"
Steve nods, praying he didn't look as panicked as he felt. "Yeah, it would. Phillips was breathing down our necks most of the time. Any slip-ups and we were dead."
Sam clears his throat, a mischievous smirk taking over his face. "What sort of pranks did you two play, Steve?"
I'm gonna kill him.
"Harmless stuff."
"Like?"
"Taking the Commando's boots and piling them on the other side of a stream, putting their uniforms in trees, um..." Steve looks to Bucky, although he knows he won't get much there. "Remember going on the Cyclone for the first time?"
Bucky laughs, "And that man in front of us scared you so bad you puked?"
"And then again after we rode it?"
"And yet you still wanted to ride it again."
"Only because you were so excited."
They share a few more stories, mostly about how Steve could never be controlled no matter how many times Bucky tries and the countless injuries he acquired. It was pleasant and Steve couldn't help but feel at peace once more. His friends were finally seeing the Bucky he was in love with, not the Winter Soldier or Hydra's little puppet.
"I didn't know Steve was so insufferable as a kid," Tony comments, a sad tone in his voice.
Bucky cocks his head to the side, giving Stark his Lost Puppy™ look. "What do you mean?"
Tony shifts in his seat and looks to the other Avengers, somber. "When we first met Steve, we all assumed he was this old school, naive, gentleman, rather than the soldier and man he is. Dad never said anything about how you two played pranks on him-"
"Oh that's because Howard hated it," Bucky quips. "He never would have told his son, whose supposed to think of his father as this hero, that two average-"
"Average?" Steve interjects.
"Slightly above average," Bucky corrects, "Brooklyn boys who barely graduated high school bested him several times in his own lab."
Steve rubs his neck. "Buck's gotta point. We weren't exactly kind to Stark back in the day."
Bucky laughs. "Remember when we stole that flying car and drove it around London?"
"And then crashed it?" Steve chuckles.
"And that time we faked the results for some of those test he gave you?"
"Like the one where he genuinely thought I was psychic? Or the one where he believed I could shoot lasers from my eyes?"
They laughter bubbling from their chests are starting to rumble through the table. It only fuels them, sharing more details about the pranks and gags they pulled. It was like they couldn't stop.
Steve moves to get up, only to notice there's something catching his ankle. He wiggles his foot and the thing moves, wrapping tighter around his ankle. Steve glances down and nearly gasps.
It's Bucky. It's always Bucky.
Steve settles back in and tangles his ankle with Bucky tighter.
It's always Bucky.
~*~*~*~
With the Avengers finally working together again, Steve was gone a lot. He spent most of his time at the compound, sometimes with Bucky but mostly alone.
It wasn't so terrible spending the days by himself. Bucky watched a lot of movies and TV shows. Steve let him have at his book collection and Bucky was slowly working his way through it. It was pleasant and just what Bucky needed.
His only problem persisted of daytime television.
Bucky loves to read, it was always his favorite pastime. However, Bucky's brain wasn't the same. He found it harder to focus, harder to read, for long periods of time. So he'd read for a few hours before he'd find something on the television to read.
Which is what he's doing now.
He shifts his left arm onto the armrest, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his shoulder. His old copy of The Great Gatsby sits on the cushion beside him, dog-eared and bent from the years of use. Bucky runs a hand down his face, trying to focus on the cheesy movie on the TV.
All that's been on lately are holiday movies. At first, Bucky didn't mind. It was actually nice watching all of these feel good movies, especially on his darker days, but at this point... Bucky was bored.
The movie's protagonist was rushing through a New Year's Eve party as the group started the countdown. Just as the countdown reached five, he grabs his love interest, says a passionate "I love you," and waits.
"I love you too," she cries. The countdowns at two.
Just as the clock reaches one, he pulls her into a passionate kiss and the credits roll.
Bucky groans and turns off the TV. He leans back, curling into the couch and closes his eyes....
"Stevie, let's go!" Bucky calls through the apartment. He's waiting by the door, arms filled with blankets and a picnic basket. "C'mon! The fireworks are about to start!"
"Jeez, Buck, I'm right here," Steve groans, fidgeting in his jacket. "What's got you in such a hurry?"
Bucky shifts on his feet. "I just want tonight to be perfect."
Steve grins and opens the door. "Then by all means, lead the way."
They took the stairs to the roof where Bucky laid out the picnic blankets and Steve set out the cheap champagne they found. "This was a great idea, babe," Steve whispers as they settle into the blankets.
Bucky winks at him. "I know."
Steve rolls his eyes and shoves him. "You're such a jerk, ya know that?"
"S'what happens when you deal with a punk like you."
In the distance, parties could be heard and the sounds of children up way past their bedtimes echoed from the park. "Still can't believe you were able to talk your Ma out of forcing us to go to the church banquet."
"Steve, we're in our twenties now. She can't control us like we're kids. Besides, with this war coming, who knows what'll happen."
Steve laid his head on Bucky's shoulder. "It's hard to think that this may very well be our last New Year's together before the war gets you."
Bucky pulls him in closer, squeezing Steve's boney shoulders. "You know, if I do get drafted-"
"Buck-"
"No, if I get drafted, I won't be coming back the way I left. It's not how war works, you know that. Remember Martin's cousin Wallace? He still lives with his parents because he can't live alone after he came home from the Great War. I... I could very well be like Wallace," Bucky says quietly.
Steve sits up and looks down to Bucky. "Then I'll take care of you. I can't leave my best guy living with his parents for the rest of his life. Hell, maybe then we won't get so much shit about living together."
Bucky snickers and bites his lip. "Not funny, Rogers."
"Quit saving face, you know that was funny," Steve laughs.
The cheering has turned to chanting and the countdown's begun. Bucky perks up, his amusement turned flirtaious. Ten. "It's almost time. Gonna kiss the thirties away?"
Nine.
Steve smirks and slowly starts to lean in. "Is that a promise or a dare?"
Eight.
"Both?"
Seven.
"Then absolutely."
Six.
"Bring it then, punk."
Five.
Steve leans in, brushing their lips together.
Four.
Bucky tilts his chin up, adding more pressure.
Three.
Steve grabs Bucky's face and tilts his head.
Two.
Bucky pulls Steve in closer, massaging the back of his head with his hand. The other's on his hip, slowly pulling the smaller man on top of him.
One.
"Happy New Year!"
Steve pulls aside enough to stare into Bucky's eyes. "Happy New Year, Buck."
"Happy New Year, Stevie. Now kiss me."
"Don't have to ask me twice," Steve breathes, already leaning in for another kiss.
Bucky jumps up, confused. Did he just dream about kissing Steve? Why did it feel so realistic?
The real question was... Why did it have to stop?
The assassin was deep in thought, replaying the "dream" in his head over and over again. All he could think about was Steve's lips on his, his hands on that tiny waist, and those delicate hands framing his face.
"Au revoir!" Bucky jumps at the sound of Steve's voice in the hallway. "Buck, you won't believe who I met in the hall!" Steve announces as he burst through the door.
Bucky shifts to face him. "Who?"
"This French gal who just moved in down the hall. Can you believe it? Finally someone to speak French to that actually understands!"
The brunet smiles. "That's great, Stevie. Real great."
Steve was beaming, filled with excitement and possibilities. It was so endearing that Bucky wouldn't have minded to kiss Steve. It felt like the right thing to do.
Instead, Steve snatches his sketchbook off the counter and plops down beside Bucky. "Whatcha reading?" Bucky picks up the book and shows him the cover. Steve's smile only grows. "I remember making that book for you. It took me a week to make sure all of the comments and doodles were just right."
"It's my favorite," Bucky whispers.
"Mine too."
~*~*~*~
After that "dream," Bucky found himself over analyzing everything. Did he sit beside Steve because it was instinct or because he was attracted to him? Did Steve let him sleep with him because he's a good friend or because of something else? Bucky's used to be confused nearly all the time, but he couldn't very well ask Steve.
"You sure you don't want to join us, Buck?" Steve asks as he ties his shoes. It's pretty late in the afternoon, but Sam and Steve are bored so they decided to go for a run.
Bucky, on the other hand, is too busy suffering from confusion to try and be normal. "I'm sure," he tells the two, grabbing his book and heading for the couch. "Kick Sam's ass, yeah?"
Steve laughs and glances to an oblivious Sam, who's already fiddling with his headphones. "You bet." Steve pats Bucky's shoulder on his way to the door, his hand lingering for a second too long (right? That couldn't have been a normal length).
The boys left, talking back and forth about how this was "Sam's day" and that Steve was getting "too old to play with real men." Bucky listened to them as they walked to the stairs (thanks super-hearing).
As soon as the door to the stairwell slammed shut, Bucky jumps up and rushes to his room. He can't live like this, with this uncertainty. He just needs a sign, something that would tell him whether or not his feelings for Steve were new or old.
Bucky opened up his bag of journals and read through each and every one. Most of the ones he had written didn't seem to have anything explicit, but he wasn't totally sure.
And then he grabbed Steve's journal. He'd read through it a couple of times, especially when he was still trying to process who he was. It was worn and a little torn at the edges, but Bucky still opened it.
He flipped through and found a passage that he didn't quite remember reading.
Later that night, we were just walking around. There wasn't much either of us felt like doing, so we walked. You were kicking a rock down the street, occasionally kicking it in my direction. No words were said, nothing needed to be spoken. We just needed to exist with one another, surrounded by the bustling Brooklyn streets and comfortable silence between us. It was what we needed after everything had happened with the girls.
Around the corner, on their street, a fight seemed to break out in one of the alleyways. You took a step in front of me, your body tense and your hands forming fists. You looked back at me, nervous, and I'm sure I was just as scared, but we trusted one another. We had each other's backs, no matter what. So we walked.
The fight moved to the street, three men against two. You pushed me behind a mailbox and ducked, peeking your head out every now and then. You knew how dangerous things could get, what with the depression still raging and gangs popping up all over from the prohibition. You didn't want us to get caught up into something they had no business being in. Hell, neither did I.
"Yeah, that's what you get you queer!" one man slurred as he pounded into one of the men.
"You show 'im who's boss, Frankie!" another encouraged, kicking at the other men. The two on the ground cowered in fear, trying their best to cover their faces and heads.
"You see what happens when you go around spreading this," the third man stumbled on his words, "disease?" One of the men started to sob, calling out to the other through his cries. "Oh, trying to get your little boyfriend to save ya?"
"Pathetic homos," the second man spat.
We watched on in horror as the realization sunk in. These three brutes were beating two men just because they saw them kissing. . . Just because they liked boys? I wanted to vomit, it was so awful, Buck. I remember looking up at you, scared as hell, only to see you close to crying.
"We should call the cops. Have you two arrested for indecency," the first man said. The second man on the ground was coughing up a thick liquid that shined a dark scarlet under the street lights.
I couldn't help but seeing you lying there, that night. We didn't exactly live in the safest neighborhood nor did we live in the best of times, anything could have happened. But it was something about that night that really had me worried for our future, especially about you.
"C'mon, we need to get out of here," you said in a hushed whisper. You ushered me into the alley and got me to climb the fence so we could make our escape.
The next morning, we found out the men had beaten them to death. You saved the article in one one of your drawers and now it's in my sketchbooks, hidden away from the world and reminding me what could have been us.
That was also the day that I started to pray for change every day. That was the night I knew that if the world was different, we'd be different, too.
Bucky stares up at the wall, the images of the men being beaten coming to life in his head. His heart aches and his chest constricts with his breathing. It was as if the memory was bringing back all of the pain he experienced on that night...
He swallows the lump in his throat and keeps flipping. His thumb's rifling through the pages, quick and calculated, until he spots the little frays of a torn page near the back. Bucky opens to the page and gasps.
It's not just one page, it's several. As it gets closer to the end of the journal, the pages are thinner from the torn edges of lost pages.
Steve ripped out some of the story.
He's keeping something from him.
Bucky sets the journal down and scrambles to Steve's room. Sam and Steve should be on their way back, so he doesn't have long. The brunet nearly destroys the room looking for these pages, those lost memories that may just fill this void Bucky's developed.
Someone outside screams for Captain America.
They're so close, so close.
He moves as fast as possible. Digging through paperwork, rifling through books, checking under the mattress...
The commotion gets louder outside and Bucky can hear Sam's laugh.
Bucky's trying his best to keep Steve's room as neat as possible but he needs to find these pages. He knows Steve has them. There here somewhere, somewhere.
And then he finds them, folded up neatly beneath Steve's pillow with a pistol.
Bucky snatches the papers and does his best to get Steve's room back in order, before he disappears completely. (It never fails to surprise him how easy it is to escape out of a window and scale a building.)
The ex-assassin sits on the edge of the roof and unfolds the papers. It's a pretty thick stack and they're crumbled, but Bucky can still read Steve's neat handwriting.
And he reads.
When I was settled in the hospital room with an oxygen tank hooked up to me, you came bursting through the room. "Stevie?" You slurred and grabbed a hold of the doorframe.
"Buck?" I wheezed as I sat up. You stumbled forward and fell into the chair beside the bed. "What are you doing here?"
"Went home an' Ma said you were here," you mumbled. "Got scared."
"Are you drunk?" You nodded. "You need to go home, Bucky. Go sleep it off." You shook your head and laid your head on the bed beside me, just barely missing my thigh. "Bucky," I tried.
"No, no Steve. I'm not goin'. Can't leave you." You looked up at me, with those beautiful blue eyes watery and your perfect lips pouty. "So worried 'bout you, Stevie. Always am, but usually, I'm 'round you. You always scare me, never really stop worryin' 'bout you. Never stop thinkin' 'bout you, neither." You started to ramble as you moved the chair closer.
My heart rate picked up a little. (Just thinking about it is making my heart race.) "Bucky, what are you talking about?"
"Tried to get my head out of you, really did." I bit my lip. You were too cute and way to drunk to try and correct. "Girls just don't look as pretty as you do. Not as cute. Always scare me, Stevie. I hate this, I do. I hate that I can't stop thinking 'bout you. I hate that I can't stop feelin' like this. I hate that I can't be with you. I hate that I hurt you. I hate that you consume me. I hate this helplessness." You started to cry, sobbing into the mattress. I ran a hand through your hair absentmindedly, like we always did when one of us was sick. "I don't like seeing you like this. I don't like keeping secrets, not from you. Never from you."
"Bucky, it's okay," I whispered.
"No," You shouted before it turned to a whimper. "No. I gotta say it, Stevie. Gotta tells you. Gotta makes sure you know, just in case. No regrets-"
"Buck, it's just an asthma attack."
"Don't just an attack me," You grumbled. I nodded, urging you to go on with a motion of my hand. "I hate feeling like this. I hate bein' scared, 'specially knowing what people like me get when they show it. I hate everything about this... 'Cept you. No matter what, I can't hate you. God, I love you. I really do. I love you."
I was crying at this point. I grabbed you, pulling you as close as I could get you in that hospital bed. "I love you, too," I whispered into your neck. We were both crying and my oxygen seemed to be working in overdrive.
You ended up sleeping beside me, holding me just like always.
Bucky turned to the next page, body running on instinct rather than actual thoughts.
Things didn't change all that much between us. We seemed to be closer, to touch each other longer, to smile a little wider. So when school started and we realized we had all the same classes (including Mrs. Patrickson's math class much to your dismay), we were overjoyed. You didn't care about your friends, you didn't care about the other kids around you, you only ever cared about me. And I had a few other friends that weren't also yours, so I just became more enraptured by you. I just wanted to be around you, to be with you whenever I could.
It was as close as we could be.
"I think we should do somethin' tonight. Go to a party or find a place we can go to, be ourselves," You said as we walked to our first class.
"Whatcha mean?" I asked.
"I mean," You lowered your voice, "finding somewhere I can take you dancin' and maybe have a drink or two."
I could feel myself blushing. "Buck, I've told you. I can't dance."
"All the more reason to teach you." You winked at me. I wanted to kiss you till your lips turned blue in that hallway. But we hadn't talked about that stuff yet and we weren't in a good place anyhow. You leaned in and whispered, "I love you," in my ear nonetheless.
All I could do was smile. You nearly fainted last time I said it, and not in a romantic kind of way. Apparently, since my voice got deeper, I forgot how to whisper. Or maybe my voice was just too low so I couldn't? Either way, I talk too loud for quiet, little confessions like that. Especially in public. You had been so mad when I almost told our entire English class that I loved Bucky, to the point you wouldn't even look at me until they were home.
"I wish I could say the same," I mumbled. You gasped in mock horror and grabbed your chest. "You know what I meant!" I laughed, bumping my shoulder against yours.
"Yeah, I know," you slung an arm around my shoulders. "Do you remember when we were little and played soldier?"
"Yeah, after my Ma finally told me what really happened to my father? You tried to cheer me up by saying I was as brave as him, that if I were a soldier I'd be the best out there." I leaned into your touch slightly.
You nodded and opened the door to our class, letting me in first. I ducked under your arm and walked to our seats in the middle of the room. "Remember that radio story we used to listen to? The one about the soldiers?"
"'Course I do. We used to play soldier until that came on, then we'd act like the story was about us. It's one of my favorites." I pulled out my books and flipped to the page the teacher instructed. "Where you goin' with this?"
You laughed a little and told me, "Just hang on. I'm getting somewhere. What was our favorite line? We said it constantly for like two weeks after we first heard it. You remember it?"
I laughed, a stupid-in-love grin splattered across my face. Happened a lot when we were together. "'Til the end of the line," I whispered (kind of).
We leaned in a little, our bodies draped across the aisle. "What if," you said quietly, "we said that in public? We can't get caught and only we'd know what it meant. So if you accidentally shout it out for the world to know, we ain't gonna be in any trouble." I blushed and nodded, but I didn't get a chance to say anything else before Mrs. Ester started class.
"'Til the end of the line," I mouthed.
"'Til the end of the line," you whispered back.
Bucky was crying, remembering Steve's words on the helicarrier when he nearly killed him. Steve was trying to tell him that he still loved him...
He flips to the next page.
I woke up to soft kisses peppering my face and the scratch of your scruff rubbing against my own scruffed cheek. "Morning," I breathed, eyes still closed with a lazy smile.
"Mornin', sunshine," you mumbled against my jaw.
I was about to ask why you were kissing me awake until I remembered what day it was.
June 24, 1941
Today marked our sixth anniversary. Six years of calling you mine and vice versa. Six years of lazy kissing and lingering touches. Six years of blatant "I love you"s to subtle "till the end of the line"s.
And I couldn't be happier.
"Happy anniversary," I whispered as I peeled my eyes open. You was leaning over me, our hips almost aligned and our legs intertwined. Thanks to the sweltering heat wave, we were both in nothing but our boxers, so your chest was pressed against mine as close as we could get. Your arms were planted on either side of my head, trapping me beneath you and I loved it.
You grinned and swooped down to kiss me properly. "Happy anniversary," you said between gasps of breath and frenzied kisses. I whined as you pulled away, my swollen lips pursed in a pout. You chuckled and kissed my nose a couple of times. "Love you so much, Stevie. So much it hurts," you whispered.
I wrapped my arms around your neck and pulled you into a deeper kiss.
It was moments like this where I couldn't imagine being with anyone else. I couldn't imagine loving another person. Couldn't imagine losing you...
And I was certain that I wouldn't.
"C'mon punk," you panted. You lifted one of your hands to lightly brush my bangs out the way, lingering as you spoke, "Let's get ready. I took the day off. 'M takin' you out for breakfast then we're gonna hang out at the pictures. Then we're gonna snag us a pizza before we head to Goldie's for my match where you'll cheer me on and I'll win us some cash. Then, when the match is over, we'll come back here and climb up onto the roof. Maybe if the night's clear enough we'll see a star or two." You pecked my lips once more and stood, taking the sheet with you.
"Really?" I asked, completely awake already with a bright smile and big, excited eyes.
You chuckled as you slid into your pants. "Yeah, Stevie. Now get your ass up before I change my mind and leave you." You tossed a shirt at me, still sprawled out on the bed. I laughed, the shirt falling onto you face. I plucked the shirt off, crawled out of bed, and started to get ready. All with a big grin plastered on my face.
We did everything you promised and it was spectacular. Later that night, we were laying up on the roof, curled into one another on an old blanket. I had my head resting on your chest, rising with each breath you took, my arm draped across your middle and a dopey smile on my face. "Today was great," I whispered.
You hummed and ran a hand through my hair. "It was. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."
"Thank you. You made this day perfect." I kissed your chest and breathed you in, simply enjoying the moment.
"Just tried to give you the day you deserved."
"You're so cheesy," I laughed. You chuckled and kissed my head. We just laid there until I lifted my head and turned in your arms to get a proper look at you. "Where do you see yourself in twenty years?" I asked softly as I played with a button on your shirt.
You raised an eyebrow, your fingers still in my hair. "Where's this coming from?"
I shrugged. "Just curious."
"Okay," You nodded and thought for a moment. "You want me to be honest or what I want to happen?"
"Reality first, then the fantasy," I mumbled. I knew where you were going with this, but it didn't help steel myself for the harsh truth.
You nodded again and laid your head down, blue-gray eyes searching the sky for stars. "I'd probably be married with a couple of kids. We'd live in a nice, safe house in Brooklyn and you'd live close by with your family. We'd spend every weekend together and our kids would be best friends. You'd be my best man at my wedding and I'd be yours, even though it'd kill me inside to see you marry someone else. But it'll be worth it because we'll be safe and we'll still have each other around, which is better than losing you forever." Your voice was thick and soft, your eyes watering a little. You cleared his throat and sat up to look at me and your face fell when you got a good look at how sad I must've looked. "Hey, now," you took my chin in your hand and ran your thumb over my bottom lip. "Don't you start gettin' upset with me. That's at least another few years from now, alright?" I nodded.
"What if we could be together? How do you picture it?" I whispered hoarsely, my voice thick with unshed tears.
You still looked upset, but you took a deep, shaky breath and continued. "We'd get married on a roof because we always seem to end up on one." I smiled softly at that and rested my chin on your chest again. "We wouldn't have bridesmaids or groomsmen since we're both men, we'd just have my siblings stand up there with us or maybe it'll just be us. My mom would be in tears and crying over the both of us and little Rose would be old enough to walk down the aisle with us. Then, we'd get away from New York for a small honeymoon. We'd go somewhere sunny and warm, where it didn't matter when we got hitched it'd still feel like summer. After that, we'd find us a nice house and get a dog or two, maybe even adopt a couple of kids. Either way," you took my hand in yours and kissed the back of it, "we'd grow old together until we were both well into the hundreds."
I was crying; big, fat, silent tears that spilled over my cheeks and splattered on your shirt. "I'd love that," I breathed out.
"Me too." You pulled me into a kiss, soft and sweet. Then we were both looking back up at the clear, night sky as the stars twinkled overhead. "Me too."
They were so in love... Bucky wiped his tears with the back of his flesh hand.
The door slammed open and I burst through, a giddy smile on my face. "Buck? You home yet?" I called, the door carelessly shutting behind me. When I didn't hear anything, I called your name again as I headed towards out room.
I walked inside, shaking with excitement. "Hey, how was your night?" I asked, so eager to share the news with you, that I was going to be in a science experiment, that I was actually in the military. But you looked wrecked, still dressed in your uniform with your packed back sitting beside you.
You shrugged, eyes glued to the floor. I knew then that whatever happened next wouldn't be good. "What happened?" I sat beside you, a comforting hand resting on your shoulder. You shrugged it off and stood. "Buck?"
"Don't, Steve," you grumbled.
"Don't what?'
"Don't try and comfort me!" You snapped with your hands in your hair.
I sat there, stunned. I watched as you paced the room, reeling from your reaction and trying to piece together the pieces. I couldn't figure out what was wrong... The day was fine, even the double date was nice (as nice as they could be) and up until Steve went to enlist again, they had a great day. "What happened? Did I say something wrong?" All the giddiness I had vanished. You were mad or upset or something and I didn't know why.
You ran a hand over your face. "I can't do this, Steve. I just can't do this anymore."
"Do what? Buck, what are you talking about?"
"Us, Steve! I'm talking about us," You hollered. You turned away, a hand over your mouth. When you turned back around, your eyes were red. "I just can't."
I couldn't breathe and for once it felt like a normal reaction... My brain was in overdrive, just trying to catch up.
You continued, "Tonight was my breaking point, Stevie." You sighed and gestured off to the side with one of your arms, the other on your hip. "You ran off to be a goddamn hero, knowing you could get arrested all for your own self-righteous benefit. I can't take it anymore! I don't want to have to babysit you."
That's when I found my voice. "You don't have to, Buck! I'm a grown ass man, not some skinny little kid that you gotta look out for. I don't need you to take care of me."
"Then why do I waste nights taking care of you when you're sick? Why do I gotta watch where you go in case you get your punk ass in trouble? I couldn't even leave you alone for an afternoon without you picking a fight! I couldn't even leave for training without you landing yourself in the hospital! Hell, you can barely walk up the stairs without dying!"
I jumped up from the bed, my anger bubbling as I squared up to you. 'This is stupid. This could be the last time you see him- No, don't think like that,' I remember thinking as I glared up at you. My incredible, thoughtful, beautiful Bucky... "I have never asked you to take care of me. Never. You're the one who insists. You're the one who won't let me leave the room because I have a cough. - And yes, I love when you take care of me. I do," I nodded along with my words. "Because it shows you care about me, that you love me as much as I love you." I pushed at your chest lightly, enough to emphasize my words.
We were both crying silent tears, both breathing heavy, but neither of us could stop ourselves. We stood a foot apart, blue eyes searing into gray.
"Steve," you started, "we're done. I can't- I won't put up with this anymore. I don't want to. I want to be in a relationship I can enjoy. Y'know, one that I don't have to sneak around for or tell blatant lies to protect both our hides. I'm tired of it, Steve. All of it. At first, it was nice - thrilling, even - but now? It's just aggravating. And the sad truth is, we would never last. We would have to go find dames to marry and-"
"Don't even start with that bullshit," I barked. "Be a fucking man and tell me the real reason you want out." You glared at me, and as if in slow motion, your features fell in defeat. I harrumphed, "See? You don't even have a rea-"
"I don't love you," You blurted out. You cleared your throat and continued, "I don't love you anymore. Haven't for a while. Haven't been happy with you for even longer."
The world around us turned to ice. Everything around me looked as if the color had been drained, melting into a puddle dull nothing. There was a bitter bite to the air now and my bottom lip began to tremble.
I shook my head. "No," I denied, "that's bullshit. You're lying to me. You- I- No!" I cried as I backed away like a wounded animal, my breath coming out in wheezy gasps.
And then the first sob wrenched out of me. I fell to the floor, mumbling a string of "No, you're lying, no, no, this is all some twisted nightmare..."
You just stood there, watching. I could feel you watching me as I broke down and crumbled in on myself. I always wondered how you felt...
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you-"
"Bullshit," I sobbed. "That's fucking bullshit. You can't be sorry. You don't get to be sorry. I-" a handful of sobs racked through my body. "I just don't understand."
You bent down to pick up the discarded duffle you had packed and moved towards the door. "What's to question? I don't love you. I'm leaving, getting shipped to England first thing tomorrow. We're done. This is the end of the line, pal. Okay? Goodbye, Steven."
I scrambled up and raced after you. "You can't just leave! Not after you ripped my fucking heart out! You're such a fucking coward, Barnes," I spat.
You sighed and your head fell. You didn't even look back at me. "I can, Steve. I walk out this door and we go our separate ways. I'll go off and fight this godforsaken war and you can go off to find a nice girl who will love you like I couldn't. Start a family, live a life that we couldn't have. Just...be happy."
"But I was happy with you!" I cried, tempted to reach out and touch my soldier. I just wanted to hold you, make you stay and comfort me through this awful nightmare...
You chuckled, wet and humorless. "But I wasn't happy with you. We're done. Bye, Steve." With that, you left.
Bucky had to give himself a moment to compose himself, his version coming back to him at full speed. He remembers thinking this is what's best for Steve, that he could find himself a gal and settle down without having to wait for him. He remembers thinking that he'd never come home, always knew if he went overseas he'd never return.
A few minutes passed and all he could do was sniffle as he tried to focus on the words again.
He turned to the next one.
"If you men will excuse us," I told the Commandos before I started off towards a more secluded part of the base. You followed, just a step or two behind with your head down and your hands in your pockets. I settled against the back of an ammunition building, my own hands fiddling with my shield. We stood shoulder-to-shoulder in silence until I finally cleared his throat, "Is, uh, something wrong?"
You shook his head. "No, I- I just feel like we need to catch up. It's... It's been too long since we just... talked."
I nodded. "I didn't want to overstep my boundaries," I admitted. "You seemed pretty pissed..."
"I know. I'm sorry," you mumbled.
"What, uh, what exactly happened on your end?" When you paused, I quickly shook my head. "You know what, don't answer that. You don't have to tell me."
You didn't say anything for a long time. You stared off past the base's border, at the thick line of woods that seemed unusually dark at this time of day. I sighed, my shoulders falling openly. And then you asked me, "Steve, do you love her?".
I felt like a deer in headlights when I lifted my head. "Agent Carter?" I blurted, face bright red and my eyes blinking hard.
"Yeah, do you love her?" You kept your face scarily neutral, your tone even and calm. I didn't know how I felt about how you was asking this, how easy you was going about it. It almost seemed like you didn't care...
"No," I said softly. I looked down to his boots, focusing on the scuff mark on my right toe.
You nodded. "Could you see yourself loving her?"
I couldn't figure out how to answer. If I was honest, I could lose you. If I wasn't, I could still lose you. There was so much going on in my head that I wasn't entirely sure how to answer. So I just went with the honest route. "I don't know. I honestly don't know." I shook my head and moved so my right shoulder was against the building and my body was facing you. "I can see myself marrying her. I can see her having my kids and living in a little house in Brooklyn. But..."
"You're not over me," you sighed. My head fell as I nodded, eyes squeezed shut and my face bright red. I heard you face me. "Steve," you lifted my chin up.
I was almost startled by how close you were to me, our noses only an inch away. I could feel your breath mixing with mine, could see how the war had dulled your eyes far too much for my liking.
And I suddenly couldn't breathe.
"It's okay," you whispered, your voice soft in our own little world. I straightened up and you followed suit. "I... I have to confess something."
"What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," you replied with a breathy retort. "I- Steve, I was an idiot."
"Bucky, you're not an idiot-"
You held up a hand and shook your head. "Shut up for a second, Stevie. Lemme talk. I need to say this without you stopping me." I reluctantly nodded and pressed my lips together. "I was an idiot when I left. I... Steve, you did nothing wrong. Nothing. I was the reason we broke up. I figured," your voice grew tighter, "that if I left the country and we weren't together, it'd be easier for you to move on and find a nice gal to marry. Hell, I thought you were staying in Brooklyn, not going off to become Captain America. Figured with all the lonely dames back home, you'd find someone who was good enough for you. Or at least someone desperate and lonely enough to look at you." I laughed softly at that, now looking up from beneath my eyelashes at you. "I thought it'd be easier for us both. And then, when you showed up at that Hydra base in Azzano-" you had to stop for a moment. I cautiously took your hand, squeezing it gently. You gave me a small, tight smile.
"When you showed up, I honestly didn't think you were real. They fucked with my head, Stevie. They really fucked it up." You were openly crying now, your voice cracking and your bottom lip trembling whenever you paused. "I can't sleep. I wake up some days and all I can remember is my goddamn name and serial number. I have to sit there for a moment before I get out of bed and try and remember who I am, what we're doing, where I am..."
"Buck-"
You pressed a hand to my mouth with a playful, half-hearted glare. "I said no interrupting." You let your hand drop and I gave another reluctant nod. You nodded and cleared your throat. "I barely remembered you. I couldn't think of your name, could barely see your face in my head. But I knew you. I knew you were someone good, someone I could trust, someone who wouldn't hurt me... I think, part of me fought so hard through that week because I knew you were out there. I knew you were waiting for me, that you would have wanted me to fight as hard as I could to get out. I knew subconsciously that you needed me to be strong and brave.
"By the time I was really over it and everything had come back to me, I was too stubborn and proud to say I was wrong. It doesn't help that Peggy was giving you bedroom eyes whenever she saw you. Part of me was bitter that my plan actually worked, but then another half was hopeful that you were still hung up on me. I'm awful, I know." You shook your head and wiped at your tears with the back of your hand.
You took a deep breath. "I'm a dick. You got no idea how bad it hurt me when I said all those mean things to you. Like I said, I was too proud to apologize and get over it. I figured you didn't need me now that you were this big, handsome soldier. You didn't need me to be the person to believe in you, not when everyone else was falling at your feet with praise and worship. You didn't need me to have your back, not when you single-handedly infiltrated a Hydra base and rescued us. You didn't need me to love, not when every dame we pass has eyes on you. So I kept pushing you away because I was too goddamn weak to admit that I was wrong and I..."
The sob that ripped through your throat broke my heart. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch you, to comfort you as you poured out your soul for me to see... But I knew I couldn't. You needed to get through this on your own, without my comfort and coaxing. I knew all too well about how pity feels at a vulnerable moment, couldn't be the one to treat you like that.
My own eyes were watering, my bottom lip starting to tremble just slightly. You shook your head and looked up at me with everything you had. Love. Pain. Desperation. Loneliness. Exhaustion. Everything. "Stevie, I need you," you cried softly. "I fucking need you. I can't- I can't do this," you motioned to the space around us, "without you. I can't deal with this," you pointed to your head, "without you. I can't live without out, Steve. And I don't give a fuck if I'm too desperate or weak for admitting that I can't, don't, and won't live without you in my life.
"Fuck," you shook your head, "I don't care if you don't want me back after finding out how cruel I was to you. I don't care if you hate me. I just need you back in my life and I'm not taking no for an answer." I was silently crying with you, my body subconsciously moving closer to your. "I need you," you finished pathetically.
And then we were kissing.
Our lips met hesitantly, our noses bumping just slightly. We were out of practice, the easiness that used to come with kissing one another. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't passionate. It was simple and sweet and far too short. And I was finding it hard to breathe with how fast my heart was beating, I just knew you could hear it. Hesitantly, I let my hands fall to hover over your waist before carefully letting my hands caress your hips. You sighed into the kiss, pressing just a little closer with a silent need. I took what I could get, my knees weakening just a little. (Typical Bucky, making a super-soldier like me weak in the knees with a simple kiss.)
You placed a hand on my chest and pulled away gently. With our foreheads pressed together and our eyes still shut (I didn't dare open them, in case this happened to be a dream), the two of us stood there in complete bliss. "I love you," you mouthed against my lips and I could have died right then and there.
Bucky turned to the next.
I buried my face in your coat, nuzzling your chest as you slept. It was freezing, even for me, and the blankets we were wrapped in weren't big enough for me to cover my face. Instead, I kept my face tucked close to your chest, my nose beneath the lapel of your peacoat.
The sun was starting to rise, the light peeking into the tent. You were making the cutest sounds in your sleep, little huffs and grumblings that I could listen to for hours. And truth be told, that's what I'd been doing.
I didn't know that this would be my last morning with you. I had no idea that I would spend the next three days screaming for you to come home, searching for your body. Didn't know that part of me would die that day, on that stupid train.
Instead, I was more than willing to enjoy a few moments alone with you. I shuffled closer, a small smile pulling at the corner of my lips. "What you smiling at?" you slurred as you opened your eyes. "You're awfully cuddly this mornin' for someone who ain't asleep," you said in a deep, gravelly voice.
I peeled open my eyes again. "Shut up and leave me alone."
"No," you pulled me closer, nuzzling your nose in my messy dark blond hair. "If we don't start talking, I'll fall back asleep. So if you want cuddles, you talk."
"Is that so?" I turned so I was laying partially on your chest, my chin resting on your right pectoral.
"Very much." You moved your left arm to hold my head up. You looked up at me like I was your treasure. "I ever told you how pretty you are?"
I ducked my head, my forehead resting against your chest. I lifted it again, biting my lip. "Occasionally."
You smiled. "Good. You need to hear it. And I ain't talkin' 'bout your new looks, either, doll. I mean the parts of you that haven't changed, you get that right?" You stared at me for a long moment before you continued with a breathy laugh. "Before, when you were my skinny little Stevie," you raised your right arm to run your fingers through my hair and your thumb over my cheek, "you always gave me this goofy smile. And your teeth were a little crooked and you never could figure out how to smile without it looking awkward." You thumb grazed my bottom lip, a fond smile growing on both of our faces. "And those lips, goddamnit. You sure know how to kiss a fella stupid, Stevie."
"I had a good teacher," I admitted softly. You winked at me as you slid your fingers back into my hair. "Keep going?"
"Absolutely," you breathed. "Your eyes are probably my biggest weakness. I live to see that sparkle you've got, the one that I see every time you get excited about new paintbrushes or a piece you've been workin' on forever. You always know just how to look at me to make my heart skip a beat or calm me down from a nightmare. It's like," you let yourself trail off, your eyebrows furrowing as you tried to desperately find the word you was searching for.
My left hand reached forward, right in front of your head so you could see what I was doing. (Since we got back together, you hated your head being touched without warning). My fingertips brushed your forehead, smoothing out the creases that had formed on your forehead and in between your eyebrows. "It's okay. I get it," I whispered.
You gave an embarrassed smile but continued nonetheless. "I don't even know how to describe this to you. But like I was saying before, you've always been pretty in my eyes. Whether you're ninety pounds and as tall as my chest or a super soldier built like a truck. You'll always be my pretty little Stevie."
"Thank you, Bucky," I whispered as I leaned in a little. You blushed and met me halfway for a soft kiss.
It would have deepened into something more if it hadn't been for Dugan bellowing, "Hey, Mr. and Mrs. America, let's get a move on! We've got mountains to climb!"
I pulled away with a breathy chuckle. You, however, pursed your lips and cocked your head. "Why do they assume I bottom?"
"Hey, we split it fifty/fifty," I reminded with a wink. "C'mon. I've got a troop to command and a mission to complete."
Bucky read on, reading about the mission and his fall. He read about how Steve handled his death, the grief he was dealing with. He read about how hard everything was for Steve to get through. He read about his funeral and about Steve telling Peggy. He read about the Valkyrie and Steve drowning. He read about Daisy and Peggy and Howard coming together to spare their secret from the world, to help keep them hidden.
He sat up there for a long time, memories flooding his head with such an intensity he couldn't help but cry.
Bucky eventually fell asleep up there and when he did finally return to the apartment, Steve's room was back in pristine, Army regulation. The brunet slid the papers back under the pillow and returned to his room.
He stayed there for a few days, just laying in bed and thinking. Steve and Sam tried to help him out, but all they could do was make sure he was fed and hydrated. They'd all been there, suffering through recoveries and adapting to society. Bad days were a given and all they could do was help make sure Bucky lived to see another good day.
Bucky knew he'd see a good day eventually, he just needed to figure out if Steve still felt the same way.
~*~*~*~
Christmas came and went and Bucky found himself stuck in a crowded ballroom with two hundred of Tony Stark's closet friends. It wasn't ideal, especially since people tended to stay away from him, but it's where Steve wanted to be.
"We won't stay too long, if you don't want to," Steve told him as they grabbed another glass of champagne each.
Bucky shrugs. "I'm here for you, so..."
Steve smiles, blushing just slightly under the dim lights. "Thanks Buck, means a lot." Steve went to say something else when a friend of his (some government guy) popped up and he had to turn into Captain America.
Bucky kind of hated Captain America, with his fake USO smile and his boring personality. Why people only see Steve as Cap baffles him, but at the same time, at least Bucky gets to see the real Steve... to an extent.
He realized after he read the letters, that Steve still very much loves him. Even if he doesn't say it blatantly, Bucky can tell by the way he looks at him and how he treats him that Steve doesn't have platonic feelings for him. But at the same time, he could tell that Steve was holding back and acting careful around him. Not like how most people act, where they aren't sure if Bucky's Bucky or the Winter Soldier (not that he's been the Winter Soldier since Shuri fixed him up). No, Steve's careful in a way that clearly says he's trying to hide his feelings. The thing is, the good captain is a terrible actor and can't hide anything from Bucky.
The night drones on, with the loud, upbeat music drilling into Bucky's head and the people shoving and pushing their way around him. Bucky's watching Steve interact with people, watching how his face twitches and grimaces into this act.
And after a few hours, Bucky couldn't handle it anymore.
It's about twenty minutes until the countdown and Bucky's suddenly reminded of that stupid Hallmark movie he watched a few weeks ago... And then he sees Steve, with that gorgeous, polite look on his face that screams that he wants to get out of here and just do anything but socialize and his perfect body (that waist!!!) and he can't take it anymore.
He needs to tell him.
So just like that protagonist, Bucky makes his way to Steve with everything he has. He pushes his way into Steve's circle and squares up to Steve, breathless and a little frazzled. "Can we get some air, please?"
Steve's worried, brows furrowed and his mouth agape. "Absolutely. C'mon, I know where we can go."
Bucky follows Steve out onto the roof, overlooking the New York skyline. "I never liked these parties," Steve says, leaning against the railing. He looks beautiful, with the moonlight highlighting his profile and adding an extra shine to his blond hair. Steve looks so peaceful relaxing against the wall dressed in his snazzy new suit, nothing like he normally looks like.
"We never went to parties this fancy," Bucky reminds him as he settles in beside him, their shoulders grazing.
Steve laughs, head falling and his shoulders tensing. "That's for sure." He looks over at Bucky, all doe eyed and sappy. "You doin' okay?" his Brooklyn draw is back and Bucky's knees are weak.
Bucky gives him a soft smile. "I'm okay, Stevie. You're the one who looked liked he needed rescuing."
Another laugh, hearty and angelic. "Touche."
And there was something about the way the moonlight graced Steve that night or the magic in the air, but Bucky knew what he had to do.
"Why do we always end up on a roof?" he asks quietly.
Steve's brow furrows before he's straightening up, scared. "What did you just say?" he asks slowly.
Bucky clears his throat, nervous now. "Why do we always end up on a roof?"
"What do you mean?" Steve takes a step back.
"I mean, everything important to us seems to happen on a roof. And this was before we became super soldiers." Bucky took a step closer, his hands in his pockets.
Steve's flustered, not really sure what to do with himself. "It was a great hang out place, especially since-"
"Steve, I remember, you can stop pretending like we were just friends," Bucky says softly.
The blond turns around, shoulders shaking as the words sink in. Bucky watches, quiet and patient. "I don't know what you're talking about," Steve says dejectedly.
Bucky rolls his eyes. "Really? So I imagined our first kiss, right? Okay, cool." He faces the building and leans his back against the wall, arms resting on the ledge. "Do you need proof or are we just going to pretend none of that happened?"
Steve turns around, his eyes watery and his jaw squared. He's doing everything he can not to break, Bucky can tell by the twitch at the base of his jaw. "Prove it."
He cocks an eyebrow. "With pleasure." Bucky stares Steve down and starts to recount their first kiss, "It was after you got out of the hospital from that asthma attack and we spent the night stargazing up on the roof. You were creating constellations and telling these elaborate stories about them, pointing to each star to make sure I could see it. We were laying there, your head on my chest and our arms wrapped around each other. You had just finished telling me this beautiful story about two lovers, who weren't one thing or another but had gone through heaven and hell to be together. They were dancing in the sky above us and you told me that you wanted us to be immortalized like that, to have our story be shared with thousands. You looked up at me and smiled, not caring that if we told people we'd be arrested or killed or that our families would disown us. It wasn't about that." Bucky smiles and blinks the tears out of his eyes. Steve's openly crying, his bottom lip jutting out and quivering. "It was about us and our newfound romance."
Bucky looks up and squints, trying to spot the stars the sky despite the light pollution. But with his super soldier eyes and his determination to prove to Steve that he remembers, Bucky finds what he thinks may very well be Steve's lovers constellation. "There," he says softly and points to the stars. "It was that one, right?"
Steve's so shocked he can't even speak, he simply nods.
Bucky grins. "I don't remember what I said, but I know it made you melt. And then we were kissing, soft and sweet and to the point. And we didn't stop kissing until I went off to war. And even that couldn't stop us."
A sob breaks through Steve's composure. "I didn't think you'd ever remember," he cries, voice barely a whisper.
"Oh, Stevie, I can't believe I forgot," Bucky sniffles as he takes ahold of Steve's face. "Trust me when I say I won't forget again. Can't lose you again."
Steve presses Bucky's hands to his cheeks, crying still but so happy. "Why didn't you tell me? Why'd you hide it?"
"I didn't want to force it on you. God, I didn't want you to think I was pressuring you or that because I still... feel that way, that you have to, too."
Bucky smiles. "You're too good for me, Steven Rogers."
Steve wraps his arms around Bucky's waist and pulls him in close, their foreheads touching. "I'm half the man you are, Buck."
"Bullshit." Bucky could feel Steve's breath mixing with his. The countdown was starting, they could hardly hear it over the thumping of their hearts. "I love you, Steve. I always have and always will."
"I love you, too," Steve cries. "Love you so goddamn much."
"Kiss me into the new year?" Bucky breathes.
"You didn't have to ask."
Their lips met in a soft, simple kiss. It was so foreign, yet completely natural for the two. It didn't take long for the two to find their rhythm, falling back into their old habits. Everything they've missed, everything they've been through, everything since that fatal day back in January of 1945 had been leading up to this.
They were both crying. They were both giving everything they had to the other. They were both so deeply in love that nothing could have ruined their moment.
And thankfully, nothing did.
Steve pulls away first, lips swollen and chest heaving. "Happy New Year, Bucky."
"Happy New Year, doll."