Archive of Our Own

Three years since Steve Rogers had left. Three years since Bucky thought he could never adjust to this new world. Three years since it had all seemed hopeless.

Three years was a long time. Bucky had adjusted. He'd found his own place in the world, his own team. Steve had chosen to live his own life, and that was okay. If anyone in the world deserved to be a bit selfish, it was him.

That didn't stop Bucky from sometimes thinking, on the nights when the world somehow felt both heavy and too far away, what if. What if?

The decision had long been made, and it wasn't going to change. Steve was not coming back. What if? What if nothing.

And that was all.

Bullets blurred past Bucky’s head. He cursed as he dropped low to the ground, jumped into a roll that turned him round the corner. Thick metal sheeting now stood between him and the shooters, but it wouldn’t take long before they would find him.

Today should have been easy. All he’d had to do was clear out one of Stark’s old warehouses that had legally shifted ownership to Val - and therefore the Avengers - when the tower had been bought out. Bucky didn’t trust Val’s hands on anything, so he’d volunteered himself to go through all the tech before the waste removal people came to complete the clear out.

Turned out it wasn’t just Val he should have been worried about. Someone else must have heard about this warehouse’s Stark connection, and decided it would be a good idea to attack. They’d taken over the building right when Bucky was deep inside it.

It was honestly a little relieving to be shot at not because of who he was, but just because he was a random stranger in the way. That was rare for a guy with the kind of past he had.

He ran down the aisle, the metal sheeting taking the brunt of the bullets. The other side of the aisle held an array of silvery devices. They didn’t look like weapons. Knowing Stark, they could be anything. Bucky really should have taken a gun, but he didn’t think checking out a warehouse would have left him at risk of his life. Yelena had been rubbing off on him, saying he was too paranoid to be going out loaded with weapons every day. Never mind the fact he knew she had a knife she never unstrapped from her ankle. Hypocrite.

A patch of blue light reflecting off the metal sheets caught his attention. One piece of tech had power. He followed the reflection back to a small cylindrical object, blue light spinning in a circle around the base, as if it were waiting for someone’s attention.

Bucky grabbed it, hoping it meant the thing worked. Whatever it did. Higher up the cylinder, there was a tiny screen with numbers and buttons alongside it. 2012. A year? Text began to scroll across the screen underneath the number. Want a ride? One of the buttons was now glowing green.

Well, that sounded like Stark. Either Bucky would die from Stark’s stupid little device, or from the bullets that were headed dangerously close to him.

He’d run out of time. The shooter rounded the corner, and the rifle aimed directly at him. One side covered in metal sheeting, the other stacked full of items, and the end of the aisle too far away to reach, Bucky was out of options.

Fuck it, Bucky thought as he pressed the glowing button. He stared straight in the face of the shooter as he pulled the trigger.

Everything dissolved into a sea of blue. His eyes slammed shut, but the light pierced straight through his eyelids. His head felt like it was going to burst. Too much, too everything. He couldn’t even feel regret past the pain of the overwhelming brightness. He was frozen, unable to move as the world collapsed around him, taking him down, down until everything he was was compressed into the space of a pinpoint…

And then exploded back into proper shape, proper size. He’d been spat out, dumped onto a cold, hard floor. Everything hurt and he couldn’t tell if his body parts were all attached correctly. He tried to lift his head, squinting upwards.

There were people here, he could tell, but they were only shadowed shapes.

“Welcome to the land of… yesterday!” a voice said. “Y’know, it really sounds better with tomorrow. Futurama had it right.”

Bucky blinked the bleariness out of his eyes. The room was rapidly becoming clear, the sharp edges and lines all too familiar. 

2012…

He knew that voice. He knew that man.

This was crazy. It was insane. But it wasn’t impossible. Bucky had seen it to know it was true.

2012. This was the year. Here. Right now.

“Bucky?” another one of the people exclaimed. Steve.

Bucky tried to haul himself upright. Steve couldn’t see him in 2012, that wasn’t what happened. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. He had to get up. His stomach was fighting against him and he fell back onto his elbows. His breathing grew heavier, and there was a pressure in his chest he couldn’t ignore.

 A blur with red haloing them moved closer. “Stark, I think he’s going to - “

Bucky vomited on the floor. The floor of Avengers Tower. Stark’s Tower. Stark’s tower, in 2012, where Steve, Stark, and Natasha were standing over him.

“Well, that’s not what I wanted to see today. Hey, do you think future puke could wipe us out? C’mon, where’s Bruce when you need him.”

“I don’t think that’s helping.”

A hand pressed against his shoulder, a comforting strength. Bucky wiped his mouth clean. It hadn’t been much, mostly just bile. He felt better after that. He could actually see now, and his head didn’t feel like he was spinning. Whatever Stark’s tech had done, it had been a rough ride. Steve hadn’t said time travel felt like that. Clearly, whatever had older self had done had been a lot more polished.

“You did set it for the future, right?” Steve asked. Presumably to Stark. Bucky pulled himself upright. He was not dealing with this - with 2012, Jesus Christ - on the floor.

“He did,” Bucky said. “2027. That’s me.”

“But… how?” Steve stared at him. Cataloguing the differences between his memories and the Bucky that stood before him, Bucky bet. The circumstances were very different, but that stare was the same.

That stare on such a younger face was strange. He’d gone through so much already - lost his entire world when he’d come out of that ice - but still, he’d experienced so little. The Steve that would stand up against the US government itself hadn’t formed yet, not really. Bucky had always been the elder of them, but now that distance felt so much further.

“Sorry, wait, you know him? Bucky, is that James Barnes? From World War 2?” Stark stepped in, looking curious. “How the hell are you alive in 2027?”

Bucky looked around the room, taking a second to think about how he should answer. Everything looked the same. 2012. It could be the same 2012 he’d lived through. But from what Steve had told him, time travel didn’t work so cleanly. Steve had had to go back and put the stones away for a reason.

Stark shouldn’t have had access to time travel this early. It couldn’t be the same. He fought through his jumbled mess of memories to remember exactly what Steve had said. Something about other timelines. Something about having to make sure time travellers didn’t change too much, or else there would be severe repercussions. But if there were more than one possible timeline out there, couldn’t they have started out different, right from the core?

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to tell you,” Bucky hedged. “Time travel, it’s messy. I don’t know if my experiences are the same as yours.”

“So the multiversal theory of time travel is true?” Stark grinned. “I know 58 scholars that would kill for this opportunity.”

“Multiversal, I think that’s right. If that means I’m not from the same path as you, yeah,” Bucky said. It sounded like what they had been talking about, all those years ago.

Steve looked disappointed. “So you’re alive, but only where you’re from?”

For Steve, this must be hard. To see your friend from years past, alive, but not even be able to hold onto them. Bucky wanted to be sympathetic, to be a comforting shoulder, but it was difficult. He couldn’t help but play out the last conversation he’d ever had with Steve when he saw him.

Bucky tried to smile at him, but it felt like it came out more of a grimace. “Sorry.”

“Well, if you’re not going to be able to tell us anything useful, might as well just send you back.” Stark moved to tinker with the device.

“Wait!” Bucky yelled. “I was being shot at where I was. If you send me back, will it dump me right back there?”

“Uh, you know, I haven’t really figured that out.” Stark looked at the device. “Okay. Give me an hour. I’ll rejig it and if I can’t, well, hopefully they moved on in an hour?.”

“Why were you being shot at?” Steve asked. He looked worried for Bucky, as if their recent memories hadn’t been spent half in between being shot at and being the ones shooting. Bucky remembered enough of the war to know that much.

“Steve, look at him,” Natasha said. “You know why he was being shot at.”

Bucky felt the weight of their eyes on him. He wasn’t wearing his official Avengers outfit that had the A stamped on his shoulder - thank god, he wouldn’t want to have to explain that - but his clothes didn’t exactly read casual professional who sat around doing a normal job. It was necessary, when you worked like they did. Something easy to run in, to fight in, could save your life. As it had done, in that warehouse.

One benefit which hadn’t occurred to him to him getting dressed this morning was that the jacket and glove combo completely covered his metal arm. There would be no awkward questions about it coming from the past Avengers, and no awkward talking around the explanation.

Steve’s eyes lit up with hope. “You’re a hero, like us?”

“I really don’t think I should - “

“Steve, stop questioning the man. I don’t want a time-hole rupture to start killing us. If that’s what would happen,” Stark said. He waved a hand at them. “Go do something safe and stop asking him dangerous questions. Go to the gym or something. You like the gym.”

Bucky could tell that Steve was not going to stop asking questions from the stubborn glint lighting up his eyes. Steve would find a way to get his answers. The whole thing about the timeline being destroyed was clearly going over his head, and Bucky didn’t blame him.

“I don’t think a time-hole rupture is a thing. Look, if you tell me what has already happened in your time, I can fill in some gaps that won’t affect things too much,” Bucky said.

Steve looked like he was about to explode out of himself with excitement. “Let’s do that.”

“First, can I have a coffee?” Bucky dropped into the seat. “It’s been a long day.”

Mug in hand, sat alongside Natasha and Steve, Bucky finally felt himself untense. He hadn’t died unceremoniously in a warehouse, and if Stark was doing what he did best, he would avoid that fight completely. That was fine with Bucky. Even if Stark really wouldn’t be doing him this favour if he knew the whole truth of Bucky’s past.

“I don’t know where to start,” Steve admitted. A flash of pain crossed his brow as his posture became rigid. “Wait… do you even know me?”

“I know you, Steve. I already heard you fought in the war with your Bucky. That happened to me too.”

The pain faded from Steve’s eyes. He was so young like this, so young and open. It must not have been that long before he’d woken up in the future, lost everyone he knew. Bucky wondered if his Steve had been like this.

“Well, we fought HYDRA together. Bucky, we were fighting on a train. I couldn’t save him. He…” Steve swallowed, looking nervously at Bucky. “He died.”

Bucky didn’t give anything more than a shrug. The answer wasn’t surprising to him, no matter how Steve expected him to react. How were you supposed to react to hearing about your own death? He should probably look more sad about it, but it was hard to look despondent when there was very much still the possibility that HYDRA had still taken him after that point.

“I crashed a plane into the ice to stop bombs HYDRA had set, and then they woke me up here. Just in time to fight aliens.” Steve laughed. It sounded bitter. “And now we’re here.”

“That was just a few days ago?” Bucky’s voice came out sharp. He hadn’t meant it to. But all of that… it was the same. The same as the time he knew. Didn’t mean it was. Just that for Steve, everything had gone the same.

“It was a week ago,” Natasha said.

Bucky’s eyes trailed over the tower, looking prim and perfect. It didn’t look like an attack had happened here so recently.

“Stark fixed up these floors as his highest priority,” Natasha explained. “You can tell there’s more damage on the lower floors and outside the building.”

Bucky looked out of the window. It was hard to see anything clearly from this high up, but he didn’t doubt if he inspected closer, he would see the marks from the invasion.

Only a week ago…

“It happened for you too?” Steve’s voice was raised and curious. Yearning, almost, for any information Bucky could give him.

Bucky tilted his head. “It happened. The aliens didn’t win, same as here.”

He didn’t say anything else, despite the clear silence to his response that meant they were waiting to him to elaborate. Bucky turned away from the window, settled them with his even gaze.

“That’s good,” Steve said, awkwardly uncomfortable. Bucky knew he wasn’t making this easy, wasn’t fitting into the shape Steve expected of Bucky. It had been a very long time since Bucky had been the man with Steve in the war, and it wasn’t a person he could - or even wanted to - replicate.

Bucky suppressed an urge to flex his metal arm. It sometimes felt like this, too stiff like the joints were rusting over. It never did. It was always just his brain mixing things up. As per normal, for him.

“I know you said not to ask about this, but I have to know. When we were fighting, Loki said you were alive. Does that mean anything to you?”

"Loki? Loki said that?" Bucky's voice rung loud and clear. It was startling, even for him. He couldn’t help but be surprised. Loki was, from Bucky’s perspective, a whole other world to the Winter Soldier. Nothing to do with HYDRA.

Steve startled at the intensity of Bucky’s voice, uncurling like a sunflower given a ray of light after days in the dark. Bucky didn’t want to give him false hope, but he couldn’t take back his reaction. He couldn’t blank Steve again.

“He probably only said it to distract me. Just another lie.” Steve’s tone was carefully controlled, but it was easy to hear the hurt in his voice. He didn’t want Loki to have been lying. He wanted it to be the truth.

Bucky could understand the impulse. It had taken a while to adjust to the idea that Steve wasn't here anymore. That he was never going to see his friend again. To have that hope, even if for a second, even if coming from the voice of their enemy, it was something for Steve to hold onto for dear life.

Loki was famously a liar, and he used words as his weapons. This could mean absolutely nothing. But instinct was tugging Bucky onwards, and he couldn’t resist pulling that thread.

"Did he say anything else? Loki was never interested in me." Bucky shook his head. "How did he know that would work to distract you?"

"Loki can use your own mind against you. He can pluck weakness from you, just like that." Natasha made a flicking motion with her hand.

"Must be obsessed with you though, Cap," Stark remarked. "He still hasn't changed his form back from yours."

A memory buzzed in Bucky's mind.

Steve, after the battle, stones in hand. Ready to make that final trip in time.

"You going to be safe going alone?" Bucky asked.

"I'll be fine. Think I can't take my younger self?" Steve flashed a grin as he pulled on the final pieces of the time suit.

"Won't seeing you disrupt their timeline?"

"I can do subtle." Steve moved to type in the year, his first destination. His long trip through history. "Anyway, in 2012, they think I'm Loki. No timeline disruption, just slip in, out and he takes the blame."

But that… Bucky couldn’t be in that timeline. What are the chances? Infinite possibilities, infinite time, and he made his way there?

If that's the case… everything happened as it was. The fall. Hydra. The beginning of Insight.

Bucky looked at the Avengers before him, really looked at them. He'd seen photos of them at this time. They looked identical. New York had happened the same. Bucky’s death had happened the same. It was the same. Except for this. That one thing.

"He took Steve's form? Still has it?" Bucky asked. He leaned forward, fingers digging into his knees.

"Wish he hadn't," Steve sighed. "Hey, it's okay. We've got him in custody now. Bottom floor of the tower. Thor’s going to take him back to Asgard as soon as we can get contact with him."

"They're moving Loki to a secure facility right now, actually," Natasha added. "He's out of the building as of today."

Bucky heard the words as if through a great distance. It could be Steve Rogers, time traveller. It could just be Loki, lie-smith. But Bucky knew one thing, and one thing above all else. He did not trust whatever SHIELD is planning to do with that prisoner. HYDRA had an obsession with Norse magic since the War. To have a subject from Asgard itself…

Bucky stood up with a jolt, pushing the chair away.

"You need to stop them," Bucky ordered.

Steve looked at him, curious, and totally unaware of the dangers surrounding him. "Why?"

"I think I know what timeline this is, and trust me, you do not want that prisoner to reach their destination."

Bucky turned to Stark. He was still arms deep in the time travel machine, but that didn't matter. None of that mattered, not when SHIELD or HYDRA or whoever was taking something they should never have had.

"Stark, you need to shut them down. Track the car, stop it. Change traffic lights, whatever you can do."

Stark raised his gaze from his machine. "Uh. Why would I care what happens to Loki?"

Bucky grit his teeth. He didn’t get it. They didn’t understand. They would all think it was fine until it would explode in their face, just like it had the first time with Insight. He turned back to Steve.

"You trust me. In my time, we also fought in the war. You know me. Please, Steve. You gotta trust me here. You can’t let them take that prisoner.”

Steve took him, Bucky standing over him like a stone monument, immovable in this belief that this was the right thing to do. Whether it was Loki, or if it wasn’t, it didn’t matter. HYDRA would not get them. Bewilderment twisted in eyes, but it slowly faded away as he saw just how serious Bucky was about this.

“Stark, track down the car,” Steve ordered.

“Fine, I’ll do it, no mutiny on this ship,” Stark muttered crabbily. He flicked his wrist and lines of blue flared into being. Bucky had no issue with holograms now, not with his experience in Wakanda, so he jostled into place next to Stark and looked through the flickering blue, looked for the information on that car.

Stark got there first.

“No destination available,” Stark said. “Encrypted. More elaborate than I can get into which is… saying something.”

“You can’t get past it?” Steve stepped up next to them.

“There’s something in their system that rewrites the encryption on the go,” Stark said.

That would be Zola. His algorithms, played out in real time, protecting HYDRA’s secrets. They wouldn’t be able to crack the destination in time, but they needed another way to find that car.

“Track the fastest route between here and these coordinates.“ Bucky rattled off a long string of numbers. The blue light became a map, a streaking bold line curving its way through New York.

“You realise you mapped it to go to nowhere, right?” Stark waved a hand and the image focused on the destination, an old, worn down warehouse.

“It’s a front. That’s where they’re headed. That’s why the encryption is hiding it.” Bucky looked to Steve, hoped he could feel the sincerity deep within him. “SHIELD has been infiltrated. You can’t trust anything they show you.”

Natasha stood up. She had been sat, still and silent, watching them work.

“Who?” was all she said, as precise and deadly as ever. 

“There’s no time. I can explain once and only once he’s secure,” Bucky snapped. Explaining HYDRA’s re-existence would take longer than they had right now, if they would even believe him without proof. He jabbed a finger at the route. “Find a car along this that could match a SHIELD transport vehicle for dangerous prisoners.”

Images flipped before them, different cars of all make and colour, quickly rejected by Stark’s programming. A travel camera on street view sent forward an image of a large SUV. It looked normal, nothing distinguishable. 

“I am detecting a large heat signature inside,” a voice came from around them. That must be JARVIS, Stark’s old AI system. Bucky had only heard about it, never met him, but there was no time for introductions.

The heat signature showed on screen, a bulky body surrounded by men. One thing was for sure, that was no ordinary SUV.

Stark let out a hiss. “Guess you’re right. Looks like them, and they’re headed to that supposed patch of nothing.”

Bucky was already moving to the lift. “Do whatever you can to stop it. Steve, with me.”

Steve stood up and followed him without question. He grabbed the shield where it was leaning against the wall and strapped it to his arm.

“No time for the suit?” Steve asked.

“Not if you want to lose the car,” Bucky said. He jabbed the button for down, wishing the doors would shut just that bit faster. Natasha jumped in at the last second.

“Loki’s dangerous. You take him out of that car, we might get a repeat of New York,” she said. She stood in the corner of the elevator, watching them both with a placidly still expression.

“If they get him, they can do a hell of a lot worse than what happened to New York,” Bucky said. “Remember how desperate people were to recreate the serum? Imagine what’ll they do to recreate an Asgardian but one that they can control. Imagine what can be done with them as an army.”

She looked at him and huffed out a begrudging sound of agreement. Natasha threw something at Bucky and he neatly caught the small round disk. 

“Comms unit,” she explained.

Steve had his own out and ready, and Bucky mirrored him, placing it into his ear. Bucky pulled out a swathe of fabric from his pocket - a scarf, it got cold in New York winters and Bucky never liked the cold - and wrapped it around his nose and mouth. He couldn’t take the risk of recognition from HYDRA agents.

They stepped out of the elevator into the garage. Perfect. There were motorbikes already there and waiting. For a moment, they felt like the team that had never been given the chance to truly be as they took a bike and rode it out onto the busy roads of New York.

“Traffic report - two centenarians on the roam. Hey, do you even have a license?” Stark’s voice buzzed through the comm.

“Does a licence count if it’s issued in the future?” Bucky replied. “Not important, just update us on what’s urgent.”

“Steve, you never mentioned how grumpy your friend was,” Stark huffed.

“Give him a break, Tony,” Steve said.

Bucky revved on the accelerator. The Bucky Steve knew hadn’t been so… well, ‘grumpy’. Even after Azzano, he’d been putting on that old charm as much as he could muster. It had been wartime. He hadn’t wanted to burden Steve with his issues. But now it couldn’t be denied, Bucky was a different person than he used to be. And Steve, this Steve, didn’t know why. But if everything had gone exactly the same up to 2012, he was going to find out at some point.

This wasn’t the time to think about this.

“Turn left,” Stark’s voice cut sharply over the comms.

Bucky turned, wheel grinding against the concrete. He could see the SUV now, see the supposedly surreptitious cars that surrounded them. Guarded them.

“Got a guard of four,” Bucky said. “Be careful. They won’t stop just because you’re you.”

“We have to try,” Steve said. “Stark, can you get a signal to them?”

“Got it,” Stark said instantly.

“This is Captain America,” Steve said, voice instantly forming into those old army patterns trained by the USO. “We need you to stop and return your prisoner to the Tower.”

There was a short pause, breaths held, waiting to see what would happen. The SUV did not stop.

A voice crackled back over the radio. 

“No can do. Higher orders than you, Cap.”

Shit. That was Rumlow. There was no question now who had ordered this, if there ever had been one.

There was a sharp sound, an unmistakeable whiplash crack. Natasha flew into the air and it took a second for Bucky to register what just happened. 

Someone had shot out the wheels on her motorbike. She flipped through the air and landed on Steve’s back, a carefully controlled descent, impressive in how quickly she had stopped herself from becoming a stain on the concrete.

“Guess negotiations are over,” Stark said in a dark voice.

“Told you,” Bucky said glumly. “Doesn’t matter who you are.”

He hadn’t been able to see what car the bullet came from, but it didn’t matter. They were close enough now that Bucky could make the jump. He pushed off, kicking his motorbike to the side so it veered into a tree instead of any civilians, and flew through the air. He landed with a heavy thump on the metal roof to the SUV - sense memory jarring free of the last time he’d done this, so many years ago - and dug his arm through the roof. He yanked it towards him and it came off with a loud screech.

Soldiers gaped up at him. He did not care for any of them. There was Steve. Thick cuffs trapped his arms and legs, and a metal muzzle was wrapped over his face. He was chained to the wall, dangling forwards. Bucky couldn’t see his face.

Could still be Loki, Bucky reminded himself. DIdn’t matter. Bucky had to get whoever that was out of here.

The soldiers began shooting and Bucky ducked out of the way. He twisted the roof into a makeshift shield, and jumped down into the belly of the car. He slammed the roof into their faces, grabbed a gun and shot out their legs. He didn’t want to kill anyone - no matter how much they deserved it. That wasn’t what he did anymore.

Steve barely moved as the bullets flew around him. That was worrying. Bucky glanced at the chain, just for a second. It didn’t look that strong. He tore it out of the wall, grabbed Steve by the shoulders, and yanked them out of the car. They fell onto his roof shield, skidding and sliding against the concrete. Sparks flew around them and Bucky’s shoulder hurt where he took the worst of their momentum. The SUV skidded to a halt, and the cars guarding them stopped too. Natasha and Steve - 2012 Steve - were taking care of them, knocking them to the floor in a great display of their earned teamwork.

Bucky pulled Steve backwards, still shackled and unable to talk. There wasn’t a visible lock, and unlike the chain, these shackles looked heavy. Heavy enough a super soldier - or Asgardian - couldn’t break them.

Steve fell backwards onto the floor. His eyes were wide open, plaintive, distressed.

Bucky heard it before he felt it. A rain of bullets, all round them. He yanked the roof around, catching most of them. The roof was badly destroyed now, coated in holes, and he threw it to the side. Better to use that than attract attention to his metal arm.

“Coming in hot,” Stark said over the comms.

There was a flash of red and gold, and Iron Man hovered over them. A large red curve of metal swung from his wrist, protecting them from the bullets.

“Stark, remove the cuffs,” Bucky ordered.

Iron Man’s helmet retracted back, revealing Stark’s face, looking incredulous. 

“Uh, are you joking? I don’t want a rampaging god back in our city. We got him out of there, that’s enough.”

“This is not Loki,” Bucky hissed. He’d seen enough to know that it was true. He could feel it. Those blue eyes, staring up at him with such distress, were not Loki’s. “The people infiltrating SHIELD tricked you. This is not Loki.”

“Then who is he?”

“Take the cuffs off, now!” Bucky ordered.

Stark hesitated. Steve, resting in Bucky’s arm, twitched. A sound rose from underneath the metal covering his mouth. It sounded desperate, urgent.

“Stark!” Bucky shouted. He felt wild, feral. If Stark wasn’t going to take them off, he couldn’t imagine what he was going to do next, but it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Stark must have seen that in his eyes, for he went for his gauntlet, tapping away.

The metal cuffs fell away with a heavy shlick. Steve’s arms fell to his sides, boneless. He gasped for air through dry and cracked lips. He looked wrecked. He looked like a prisoner.

“Bucky,” Steve managed. His voice was slurred. He’d been drugged, that was clear. Anger pulsed through Bucky’s veins. Drugged to be more pliable. More compliant.

“Bucky, the shooter - “ Steve tried again, “It’s you.”

Bucky stared at him. Steve’s words were desperate and earnest, and it took a second for them to truly register.

Of fucking course. Nothing could ever be easy.

Bucky swore and let go of Steve.

“Take him,” Bucky told Stark. “He’s not Loki, he’s Steve from my timeline and I’ll explain later - just take him.”

With that, Bucky ran to chase after his younger brainwashed self.

The bullets had come from above, not from any of the cars, and Bucky should have noticed that. Should have understood that meant they had a sniper, and HYDRA’s best sniper was well - him.

He wasn’t normally used for missions like this, not missions so close to SHIELD’s order, but if they thought they’d had a chance at a payload so risky as Loki - Bucky could understand why they’d brought him out.

Bucky jumped onto a fire exit clambering to the top of the roof. He knew exactly where he would place himself for the best lines of sight to the road below, and that’s where he ran to first. He caught a glimpse of a shadow running, a glint of metal.

Bucky chased.

His younger self was fast, but so was Bucky. Bucky had the benefit of knowing his tricks, but his younger self was fuelled by the heavy desperation of knowing nothing fucking else but the mission. No care for injury to oneself, no care for anyone else. Bucky could remember how it had been to be him. Not a single thought in his head but the mission.

It had all felt so easy then, when he hadn’t known enough to feel guilt.

“Stark,” Bucky barked. “Send a machine to follow me. Don’t shoot to kill, just disable.”

“You know you aren’t actually the team leader, right?” Stark complained.

“Send it!”

“I’ve sent it,” Stark hissed. “When we get back, you’re going to have a long talk where you actually explain what the fuck is going on.”

“We’ve detained all the soldiers,” Natasha’s voice came through. “Stark, you have Loki?”

“Not Loki,” Bucky barked. He jumped to the next rooftop, grabbed a heft of wood that had been left behind for construction work, and chucked it at his younger self. He deftly dodged, but it cost him a second delay to swerve, and Bucky hoped it was enough.

“Not too sure on the whole Loki thing,” Stark said, “But I have whoever they had, and he’s not moving anytime soon. Also, bot heading your way.”

Bucky saw it, the red and golden lines emerging over the rooftop. So did his younger self. He leapt into the air and clung onto the machine, driving his metal arm into the robots chest. The force of his blows dented the robot. If they were a human, they would surely be dead.

“Jesus, what is he made of? Can you tell him those things are pricey?”

The robot twisted its repulser arm around, aiming for a headshot

“Don’t kill him!” Bucky yelled. He strained to leap up, grabbed his younger self by the ankles. He yanked him down, trapped him on the rooftop. The robot sparked and sputtered from the now gaping hole in his chest.

His younger self drew out a knife and stabbed upwards. Bucky blocked it with his metal arm. The knife sliced through his sleeve, ribbons of fabric blowing away. He didn’t have time to think. He just had to get his younger self subdued before he could kill anyone.

He dug his knee into his younger self’s ribs. A choked gasp was held back through gritted teeth, and a silver arm clawed at him, but Bucky twisted around in a quick dodge. He grabbed his younger self in a chokehold. This had worked for Steve once. This would work now.

“Stay down,” Bucky muttered, mostly to himself. “Please just fucking stay down.”

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice came over the comms - and Bucky had to remind himself this was 2012 Steve, not his own, not one that understood, not yet. “Need help?”

“Get the cuffs they used on the prisoner,” Bucky huffed. “I’m going to need them.”

His younger self finally slumped in his grip, out of breath. Bucky did not let go for a good few seconds after. He didn’t trust his display, didn’t trust that the Winter Soldier could wake back up. He waited until he was sure, and then finally let go. He knew from HYDRA’s own testing that he could survive for a long while even deprived of oxygen. Bucky could afford to be more cautious than strictly necessary.

His younger self still had the mask and goggles on, plus a jacket that nearly all but covered his metal arm. He’d been going for stealth, a reasonable decision given that they were in the middle of New York. Bucky flexed his wrist, grimaced at the fact it was now exposed. They were on the roof, but the next building jutted out higher than theirs. It was very likely HYDRA would reacquisition any security footage from theirs to see exactly who had taken their asset. Bucky didn’t have much hope in his chances. They fought much the same, looked much the same. The exact aesthetic of the metal arm being different wouldn’t stop the comparison.

Iron Man - the real one, not the empty droid - stepped onto the roof. He had the metal shackles bundled up in his arms. Bucky grabbed them and locked them onto his younger self.

“This morning I was so happy to get Loki out my building. Now you say we’re putting him back in it?”

“I told you, he’s not Loki. He’s Steve from my timeline,” Bucky muttered. He checked over the locks, made sure they were absolutely not going to come off the Winter Soldier. Steve hadn’t been able to break them. He had to hope they would hold long enough to get him somewhere secure.

“And the jury’s still out on that one,” Stark said.

“I’m here, so why is that so difficult to believe?” Bucky lugged the Winter Soldier up to standing. The robot was no longer sparking, and picked the Winter Soldier up in its cold metal grasp. 

He looked up at Stark, and realised exactly why they wouldn’t want to acknowledge the truth.

“You don’t want to think about the fact that you had your teammate captured, and nearly handed over without noticing. Love the guilt complex, but cut it out.”

Stark moved forward and Bucky reluctantly took his arm.

“We didn’t know,” was all Stark said, voice empty without its normal snark. Bucky said nothing, waiting until the landed on solid ground.

He stepped off, past Steve and Natasha waiting around his Steve’s body. Another Iron Man suit had come out and was now supporting him, solid bands of metal wrapped around his waist. It looked more like necessary support rather than restraints so Bucky let it go. Whatever drugs they had given him, they had to be powerful to paralyse him so completely.

His Steve could still move parts of his face though, and his eyes moved to watch Bucky come closer.

“You look older,” he said, still slightly slurred.

“You look like an idiot,” Bucky informed him. “Know what drug they hit you with?”

“Nope,” Steve said. “Gassed me in the cell, coulda put whatever in me after.”

“I don’t know if its a good idea to talk to him,” past Steve edged in sideways. He stared at his future self warily. Natasha stood a ways back, hands on her gun.

“I said to trust me, didn’t I?” Bucky said.

Past Steve’s mouth set in that way that said there was sure to be an argument later.

“We’ll discuss this back at the Tower,” Bucky said warily. To Natasha, he asked, “Got everyone secured?”

There were still HYDRA soldiers lying about the wreckage of the cars. Luckily, in the time after the New York attack, trust in the Avengers was at their highest. Civilians were avoiding them, trusting that whatever had happened, there would be a reasonable explanation.

“There’s a team coming,” Natasha said. At the look on Bucky’s face, she added, “I know them. I trust them.”

It wouldn’t matter if she did. SHIELD had been infiltrated so strongly by HYDRA they were practically one and the same entity at this point. It was very likely that there some men amongst those cars that had no idea in the truth of what was going on. Just following orders, as they said.

None of that mattered right now.

“Fine,” Bucky said. “We need to take them both - “ he motioned to Steve and to his younger self hovering unconscious above them, carried by Stark’s robot - “back to the tower. They can’t be held by SHIELD’s security.”

“And I suppose that’s something else we just have to trust you about?” Stark said.

Bucky looked him in the eye with a steady stare.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

They’d gone back to Stark’s Tower and were now resettled on the highest floor. Bucky had asked them if they had a cell on this floor. He didn’t trust putting the Winter Soldier anywhere out of his sight. Stark said he didn’t, but he could make something secure, and was currently working on connecting the Soldier’s heavy cuffs to a thick metal brace curving from the floor. It was linked to the building’s own supports, so to break it would require the Soldier to move the weight of the Tower. The Soldier was both strong and ridiculously slippery to hold, but Bucky hoped this would be enough.

His Steve had gone quiet watching them chain up the Soldier, as if aware how fragile his current free status was. Only a few hours ago he’d been shackled in those same cuffs under the orders of the organisation he’d used to work for. All with good intentions, but it could have worked out so much worse than it had. Than it would have been, if Stark hadn’t decided today was a great day to mess around with time travel.

It was a faint, fragile moment of peace, but Bucky knew it wouldn’t last long.

Some pieces were already beginning to fall into place. Natasha was staring at the Soldier’s metal hand.

“He’s who you think he is,” Bucky said, more tired than he had felt in weeks. This day had already been long, what with the shootout in the warehouse, and with everything Bucky now had to clear up… he was the focus point in all of this, and it was a heavy weight to carry.

“And who is that?” Past Steve asked, moving closer to Bucky. “Is this all stuff you’ve encountered from your timeline?”

“You didn’t meet him until 2014, originally,” Bucky said. “It’s better that it’s sooner.”

“This is better?” Natasha twisted around, eyeing him coldly. “We’ve got the Winter Soldier chained up in the Tower and you’re asking me not to put a bullet in his brain.”

His Steve hissed out a pained breath. Everyone’s eyes swung to him.

“I won’t let them do that, okay?” Bucky said. His Steve looked at him, and the pain in his eyes was absolute. He was still held up by the metal restraints, but the drug had left his system enough he could move slightly, if slowly.

“Okay, we stopped the car. You said you would explain later, and now it’s later. So,” past Steve motioned at the room. “Please explain this to me.”

Bucky stepped over and laid an arm on his Steve.

“This is Steve. He’s not Loki, he’s you from the future, travelled back to return a weapon he took - the Tesseract. This is the Steve I know.”

“Hey,” Steve said weakly. “Good to see you guys again. No hard feelings about the whole cell thing, I get it. Really.”

“They nearly lost you to them,” Bucky said ruthlessly. “I have hard feelings about this.”

“They were just doing what was protocol. If I had been Loki, it would have been too dangerous, and they couldn’t tell who I was without Thor, who’s off in space and impossible to contact - “

“And I don’t care! They should have checked harder!” Bucky snapped. Natasha and Stark were watching him warily, and Bucky sighed, trying to dial himself back. Given the evidence, the conclusion they’d come to wasn’t irrational but… the result could have been disastrous.

Past Steve’s expression just looked twisted, staring at his future self with an unhealthy level of guilt. Steve had barely settled out of his own version of time travel skipping 70 years ahead, and now he was faced with this. Bucky didn’t blame him for this mistake. He blamed everyone else who had the resources to check and hadn’t.

“So you’re me?” Past Steve asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” His Steve said, “Captain America and all. It’s me.”

“Was it you I fought? When you said Bucky was alive?”

His Steve looked at the Bucky standing beside them, and then at the Winter Soldier on the floor. “That was me. And no, I wasn’t lying.”

Past Steve looked thunderously gloomy and Bucky tried not to squirm. 

“But Bucky said - “ 

“I didn’t know that things had gone the same up to this point,” Bucky explained. “I would have told you if I could but… it doesn’t matter now.”

“Doesn’t matter? It pretty well matters how Bucky lived!” Past Steve looked between them both. He was still holding the shield, and his grip was tightening on it with every passing second.

Natasha was saying nothing, but she was still staring at the Winter Soldier.

“How far does your prosthetic go?” Natasha asked.

“Nat?” Steve asked.

“Bucky’s prosthetic arm. How far up does it go?” Her voice was neutral to the point of coldness. Bucky could see how she was holding herself, impossibly calm. Calm, like it was something she needed, something she had to root herself in to avoid all possible alternatives. It was something Bucky was too familiar in.

“I’ll get to that,” Bucky said gently.

“Bucky,” his Steve said, and stopped. Bucky didn’t know what he’d planned on saying, but it didn’t matter. This had to be done. At least it was gentler than the first time.

“It’ll be easier if I show you,” Bucky said.

He walked over to the Winter Soldier. Stark had just finished soldering in place the final bolt to the metal curve, both ends wrapping into the floor so there was no way for the Soldier to slip his chains. His sleeve had broken off during the flight, rubbed against the cuffs, exposing shiny silver metal to the light.

Bucky grabbed his unconscious, masked face and held him upright. He looked back at Natasha and past Steve, who were looking at him expectantly. His Steve was wincing. He knew what was coming next.

With a flash of motion, he flipped the mask and goggles off. The Winter Soldier’s face was exposed.

Past Steve’s face twisted in horror. “Bucky?”

This time, the Soldier was not conscious to provide a response. His eyes were closed shut and his breathing weak, hair lying languid, sticky with built up grease and sweat. It was not a good sight, especially not comparing it against Bucky right next to him. Bucky knew he’d looked awful back then. He hadn’t had a choice. He’d never had a choice.

“That’s how I survived, Steve,” Bucky said. “I lived as him. The Winter Soldier. From the end of the war until now. And then I got out.”

Past Steve stepped forward, eyes roaming across the Winter Soldier’s body, as if looking to see if he could see his friend emerge from under the cold plates of armour.

“You - he - why was he shooting at us?” Steve asked.

“He didn’t have a choice,” his Steve answered. He sounded so tired, and Bucky felt the same. “He was forced to do it.”

“He doesn’t remember you,” Bucky said mercilessly. “Doesn’t remember his own name.”

Natasha hissed out a breath. Too close to home, for her.

“I am sorry for shooting you in Odessa,” Bucky said. “He won’t remember that either.”

“What - he shot you?” Past Steve swerved to stare at Natasha. His hand drifted closer, as if that would offer any kind of protection.

“It was a long time ago, Steve,” Natasha said.

“I don’t understand,” Steve said. He looked to Bucky, chin stuck out in stubborn resolution. Looking for answers, answers only Bucky could give.

“When I fell from the train, I was found by HYDRA. They did a lot of shit to me to make me their perfect assassin.” Bucky stared at the Winter Soldier lying unconscious on the floor. “You can see the results of their work.”

“HYDRA’s gone. I destroyed it,” Steve said.

“They’re not gone. They have infiltrated SHIELD to the highest point. They’re the ones who wanted Loki.”

“It’s all true,” his Steve said. “I lived it.”

Past Steve’s face looked like a car wreck. Bucky didn’t blame him. Everything he’d known was being torn to pieces right in front of him.

Natasha looked lost, expression twisted as she stared at the Winter Soldier on the floor.

“It gets better,” Bucky said gently.

“How exactly does it better?” Steve said.

Bucky motioned to the Winter Soldier. “I used to be him. All of this… it may seem impossible, but it gets better. He stops wanting to kill you. You work together. It’s not the past, but I’m far from what they made me into. It gets better.”

Steve pressed a hand to his mouth. “I can’t… I need some air.”

No one stopped him from leaving. Natasha followed him out. Stark was uncharacteristically quiet in the corner.

“Do you need anything?” He asked them, voice drained.

Bucky’s Steve shifted in the metal restraints, testing his balance. He slumped back. Bucky couldn’t tell what he had been trying to do, but it hadn’t been very effective.

“I am pretty hungry,” Steve admitted.

“Right,” Stark said, clipped and short, “I suppose they didn’t want to risk taking the mask off to feed you.”

“They had supplements that could be used through the mask - it doesn’t matter.” Steve’s eyes flicked to Bucky. Bucky resented the implication that he couldn’t take this, even just hearing of what Steve had gone through. He wasn’t going to break.

“Let’s get you some food,” Bucky muttered. He guided the robot holding Steve gently in one hand, moving him like an airborne wheelchair. He took them to the kitchen. Finally, it was just the two of them alone. The two time travellers.

He busied himself making a sandwich from the available resources. The kitchen wasn’t that well stocked. He supposed only a week after the New York attacks, that would be a bit too much to ask for.

“You haven’t said. How did you get here?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know. Stark messing with time travel tech he doesn’t understand.” Bucky concentrated on slicing a cucumber, perfectly thin slices.

“How long has it been?” Steve’s voice was quiet.

Bucky stopped, knife poised over the chopping board. He reluctantly set the knife down and turned around so the kitchen counter dug into his back.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not stupid, Bucky, no matter what you say.” Steve smiled at him. It didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re a lot different to what I saw last. Older, too. So how long have I been gone, for you?”

“Three years,” Bucky said.

Steve hissed in a breath, ducking his head as much as he were able.

“And I suppose, no one was looking for me, because I told you - “

“You were going back to be with Peggy, yeah.” Bucky looked back at the cucumber slices. He’d cut enough of them, but he really wished he had something to stab right now. “Didn’t think anything was wrong by the fact you didn’t turn up again. Guess now you can get right back on track with that, now you got out. Stark probably put the particles in storage. Easy enough to get them back.”

Steve was quiet, and if not for the fact that Steve currently couldn’t walk under his own control, Bucky would have wondered if he had left the room.

Bucky laid the vegetables out on the bread, buttered the other side, and brought the plate up ready to give to Steve. Would Steve be able to pick it up? He hoped he had enough motor control for that. Bucky didn’t want to have to feed him.

He turned to Steve and stilled. Steve was staring out to the side, eyes barely focused. If anything, Bucky would say he was dissociating but Steve - Steve didn’t do that. Ever.

“Steve?” Bucky said, still holding the plate of sandwiches. He felt like a right lump of nothing, unable to do anything. And still, there was that pit of dark in him that was telling him it didn’t matter anyway. Steve was going to leave.

Steve jolted slightly, blinking rapidly. He looked at the sandwich and smiled. It was weak and small, nothing like him.

“Thank you,” Steve said. He stretched out his fingers. His arm wobbled and his face twisted in a look of intense concentration, but he managed to grip onto the sandwich. Bucky held the plate up, still as a statue, as Steve tried his best.

He ate it ravenously, fingers digging into the sandwich so tightly he as pressing holes through it. Bucky looked away, giving him that privacy. He knew how important it was to have the freedom over your own actions, to have the freedom to eat how you wanted. He didn’t want to think about whatever sustenance packets they’d provided him with, but the images kept flashing over his mind.

The noises stopped, the sandwich eaten, and Bucky set the plate down.

“Can we go sit down?” Steve asked.

“Sure,” Bucky said, and wheeled him out to the seating area.

The restraints folded back as Steve tried to push himself forwards, allowing him the freedom to move. It didn’t help much as Steve’s leg faltered and he nearly fell, if Bucky hadn’t swooped in to catch him. Steve’s nose smushed against Bucky’s shoulder, and he sighed, a great release of the pent up annoyance at his own paralysis. Bucky manoeuvred him onto the sofa. He fell into place with a flop, dragging himself around with his arm.

“This sucks,” Steve commented. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

“Must have been really scared of you,” Bucky said, “The evil Asgardian god. What was that about subtlety?”

Steve shot him a look. “Don’t start.”

“What even happened?”

“They got the drop on me.” Steve shrugged. “That’s about it.”

“The star spangled man with a plan, everybody,” Bucky muttered.

“Maybe it wasn’t my best idea to do it alone,” Steve allowed. He ran his finger over the sofa, tracing the patterns in the covering. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

“You do know,” Bucky said. His metal fingers spasmed. Neural connections misfiring, again. He pressed them down against the fabric to make them stop.

“But you stopped it,” Steve said quietly. His finger stilled and he brought his hand back to his lap, curled it against his stomach. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Well, I’m not letting HYDRA take you again, so that’s for sure not happening - “

“Not back there. Back to the 40s.”

Bucky couldn’t help but stare at Steve. He looked serious, serious and braced for a blow.

“You what?” Bucky asked. He needed to hear Steve say that again. He had to be sure he’d heard what he’d just heard.

“I’m not going to go back to the 40s.” Steve lifted his chin, met eye contact. Stubborn insistence, like always. Only this time, Bucky had absolutely no idea why he wanted this.

“Why? You told me, that’s what you’ve been missing out on the whole time, your life cut short. You got the chance to get a redo, you take it, that’s what you said - “

“I know,” Steve cut in, “I changed my mind.”

Bucky threw up his hands. “Well that’s just great. Steve Rogers, changing his mind.”

“Bucky, it’s…” Steve trailed off. “I had a lot of time to think in that cell. Not much else to do. And I realised I - I may have been acting irrationally.”

“Sounded rational enough to me, how you explained it.” Bucky couldn’t help the bitter tone. He’d had years to get over this, to accept this current state of affairs where he would never get to see his best friend ever again.

“I lost Tony. I lost Nat. Before that, I lost you and Sam and everyone.” Steve’s voice was rising, and Bucky didn’t like the emotion flooding into his voice. “I lost everyone I knew and then only some of you came back but it didn’t even feel real. I made a mistake, okay? Going back to the 40s won’t fix what I wanted.”

“What do you want then, Steve?”

“I just want to stop losing people!” Steve exclaimed. “If I go back there, it won’t stop that. It’ll just mean losing the people I had in the future, all over again. Except I’ll just be sitting there waiting for the time to pass.”

Bucky got up, went over to the window. He wanted to reach for his knife, wanted to slam it into the wall. He let his breath condensate on the window for a good few seconds before he got ahold of himself enough to turn back.

“So what? You’re going to use the particles to go right back to the moment you left?”

Steve shook his head.

“No, I can’t do that. Doing that would create another timeline since that didn’t happen for you. I’m going where you’re going.”

“With me?” The thought felt ajar, dissonant within him.

“That way time works as it should. Nothing changes, just the present going forward.” Steve looked at him. “That works, right?”

“Do you think I know about any of this shit?” Bucky pressed a hand to his neck, thought about it. “I guess so. It wouldn’t change anything I remember. We didn’t find you after, just presumed you died of old age before you made it back the long way. Nothing hinted you just skipped three years.”

“There we go,” Steve said with confidence, “It’ll work.”

Bucky huffed a a breath. He supposed for Steve, it was really that easy.

“And I suppose you’ll just step back into your own life like nothing happened, right?” God, what was Sam going to do?

“No, I’ll still retire. Sam has the shield - he took it like I asked, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said heavily. “He does.”

Steve gave a single deft nod. “Good. He’s the best man for it.”

Bucky couldn’t hear this. Couldn’t keep talking like this was really happening.

“Steve, you can’t be serious. You can’t be thinking of doing this.”

“Why not?” Steve crossed his only moveable arm across his chest.

“It’s been three years. The world has moved on without you.”

Steve shrugged. “Three years is less than seventy.”

Bucky had to sit down. Head in hands, he needed to breathe. He couldn’t deal with Steve’s resolute stubbornness, not now.

“Is it that bad? If I came back?” Steve asked.

It wouldn’t be, Bucky knew that. The blip and the return had meant everyone was more amenable than they were to stranger things like this happening. Steve would slot back in just fine. He’d be happy, even, to see that Bucky had found himself a team. Probably not happy with the specific people on it, but still. Or would he side with Sam, try and fight for the name back in court?

“Do you not want me to come back?” Steve’s voice was low, quiet. Understanding, if the answer was yes.

Bucky swallowed. That wasn’t the reason in the least. He’d just wished that Steve had never chosen to leave in the first place. Never took Bucky aside and told him his plan, smile curling soft on his lips, as he talked about Peggy. Bucky had been firmly reminded of his place in Steve’s life. His friend that Steve would try to save, and once that was done, well… that was it. Bucky was safe, so it was fine to leave him. No matter how alone he felt in the world. No matter all the shit passing the shield to Sam gave them both. They’d dealt with it, together, but it would have been so much easier if Steve had been there to smooth the passage. And now he wanted to come back like nothing had happened, like they hadn’t adjusted to a post-Steve world?

What was Bucky even supposed to say?

“I’m sorry,” Steve said.

That jerked Bucky up. Steve was looking away, lips pressed tightly flat.

“Do you even know what you’re apologising for?” Bucky said heavily. “Or are you just saying it because you feel you should?”

Steve’s eyes flashed to him. He looked uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry I left. Okay? That’s what I’m apologising for.”

Bucky felt nauseous. Steve apologising to him was something that didn’t sit right. Fine, Bucky was mad. He could acknowledge that now. He was mad that Steve had left. But he couldn’t deal with Steve looking so repentant, so downtrodden.

“Steve, stop. You can come back with me, alright? It’s fine.” He went over to Steve and clapped him on the shoulder.

Steve’s mouth twisted. “You don’t seem very sure.”

“Look, it’s just been a while. I got used to thinking you were gone. It’s weird - it’ll be weird - but that doesn’t mean I want you to stay here or whatever you thought I was thinking.”

“Okay.” Steve chuckled. “You fine with showing me around your future?”

This could be good. Bucky knew now that he could live without Steve being around. He’d built his own life up. This didn’t have to be a sad thing. It could just be them, friends, again. That was all it had to be.

“Pal, you’re going to love the future.” Bucky made himself look innocent. “Did you know we have flying cars now?”

“Shut up,” Steve laughed. He punched Bucky’s side, and just like that, it felt like a lost piece within him had clicked right back into shape.

“I think he’s waking up. Him, you know, all black and leather. The other Bucky. Soldier guy. If I die in the next few minutes, it’s your fault for not being here.” The voice sounding over the PA system crackled to silence.

Steve looked up at Bucky from where he was lying on the ground, stretching his toes. The drug had mostly worn off by now, but he was still stiff from his week of imprisonment.

“Help me up?” Steve asked. Bucky held up his arm and Steve grabbed him, stiffly pulling himself off the ground.

They walked over back to where they’d left the Winter Soldier and Stark, Steve’s arm thrown over Bucky’s shoulder for support.

The Winter Soldier was still cuffed to that metal plinth. He looked unconscious, but that didn’t mean much. Surrounded by hostile, Bucky would have played dead too.

“JARVIS got signs his breathing changed,” Stark said. “Think he’s playing possum?”

“Definitely,” Bucky said. “Move out of his reach.”

He let Steve go and Stark hurriedly walked to join them.

Past Steve came back in with Natasha. Bucky held up his hand to stop them in the doorway. He didn’t want too many people crowding his younger self.

Bucky moved closer, sitting on the floor.

“Soldier, I know you’re awake. Do you know who we are?”

His younger self shifted. His hair was hanging low, but he twitched just enough to move it out of the way of his eyes. They glowed like headlights on a car in pitch black night.

“What do you want with me?” He said, dark and hoarse.

“We don’t want anything from you,” Bucky said.

There was the sound of footsteps, and Bucky felt a presence next to him. He risked a glance. Past Steve stood there, staring down at Bucky’s younger self.

“Steve, you should get back - “ 

Suddenly, the Winter Soldier snapped forward. He bit wildly at the air, just barely missing where Steve had been only a second ago. Bucky had grabbed him and yanked him backwards.

The Winter Soldier strained at his bonds. The metal cuffs were holding tight around the beam and it looked like they would hold, but it didn’t make them feel any safer, not with him thrashing around barely metres away.

Finally, the Soldier sagged, aware he couldn’t break through. He glared up at them, teeth bared. He looked feral.

“Oh god,” Steve murmured, right next to Bucky. There was a tremor passing through him, faint enough he could only feel it because he was touching him.

“I told you it will get better,” Bucky reminded him. “It does take a while, but we get there.”

Steve took a moment to swallow.

“It better,” he murmured.

Bucky let go of Steve and moved closer. Not close enough to be in biting distance, but close enough.

“Do you know where you are?”

“I will not answer your questions.”

That was not surprising, if annoying. Bucky tilted his head back, directed his words to the rest of the room. “He’s been told not to give anything away to interrogators under any circumstances. He’s not going to talk.”

“Uh, doesn’t he notice the whole same face thing?” Stark asked.

“Not likely.” Bucky looked at the Winter Soldier, who was now pressing his back firmly against the metal beam. He looked terrified. Same as Bucky would have been, if he’d been trapped by strangers. “He doesn’t know what he looks like.”

Bucky heard a soft muffled noise. He didn’t need to look to know it would be Steve.

Bucky pushed himself backwards. Bucky talking to him wasn’t going to work. He yanked past Steve with him, dragging him out of the doorway.

“The only way we’re going to do this is if you talk to him,” Bucky said. “It was you that dislodged my memories that first time, you can do it again.”

“Okay, I can do that.” Steve looked desperate to do something that would help, eager to contribute to help his friend. Bucky wondered if Steve had been that eager when Bucky had been running across the world, the first time around. It had helped him to make his way on his own, but they couldn’t afford to let him go and possibly get snapped up by HYDRA. They had to keep him secure, and that meant staying in the tower.

“There’s something else,” Bucky said. “They programmed trigger words into me. They don’t work for me anymore, but they will for him. If he tries to kill you, promise me you’ll use them.”

“What? I’m not going to -“

“He will kill you,” Bucky insisted. He placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder, met him dead in the eye. “Promise me you’ll use them.”

Steve didn’t look like he was going to budge on this.

“This way will hurt me less too. If he’s not fighting you, he can’t get hurt. I promise you this is the best option, and it’s only a last resort. Okay?”

Steve’s eyes flicked to the side, to the wall that stood in between them and the Winter Soldier.

“Aright,” Steve said. “If that’s the best way. What are the words?”

Bucky told him. Made Steve practice until he could get the accent right. The words did nothing to him now, but that didn’t mean they sounded good for him to hear. He understood Steve’s reluctance, but this was necessary. The Winter Soldier was not going to kill anyone. Bucky would not allow it.

They stepped back into the room. Natasha was discussing something with Stark, numbers splayed up on the holographic screen.

Bucky’s Steve was stood by the edge of the room, leaning on the wall. He had his eyes on the Winter Soldier, mouth twisted.

“So you said try to talk to him? Say things that would remind him of who he used to be?”

“Pretty much,” Bucky said. “For me, memories came back when there was an associated response to it. Stuff like music, words.”

Steve nodded. “That’s useful. Thank you.”

Bucky snorted. “You should not be thanking me for any of this.”

“I’m just glad he’s alive,” Steve said quietly. “And right now he’s safe with us.”

Bucky said nothing. He was safe, for now, but HYDRA still controlled SHIELD and at this point in time, this was the strongest they’d ever been. He looked over at his Steve, still standing by the wall. There was a certain melancholy over him as he stood guard over the figure from his past.

“Shit,” Stark said, and all attention in the room turned to him. Information was streaming across his screen, faster than you could blink.

“What happened?” Past Steve said. That voice was all Captain America, jumping to action.

“I cracked the encryption, and fun story! They’re right, HYDRA’s SHIELD and we’re all screwed.”

Past Steve stared up at the images flashing across the screen, the numerous files that proved his worst nightmare. HYDRA was not gone.

“I told you,” Bucky said, exhausted. He didn’t blame them for not fully comprehending it until they had seen it for themselves. Bucky would have done the same. Did do the same, with Bob, not listening to Yelena and the others until he had confirmed for himself.

“They’re everywhere,” Natasha muttered. “The level of control they have over SHIELD is…”

“They’re not infiltrating SHIELD. They are SHIELD, in every way it matters,” Bucky’s Steve said. “You have to take it down. All of it.”

“Well, I always wanted to have take down a large-scale quasi-governmental organisation on my bucket list. Might as well get started,” Stark said.

Bucky stepped forward. “I can give you a list of people you can actually trust.”

“That would be useful,” Natasha murmured. Her gaze swept across Bucky and it was hard to deny the ache in her eyes. He understood that, learning you’d been used and abused by people you trusted, that your work had been manipulated into helping a power you despised.

Bucky leaned over and typed into the machine. The list wasn’t long. It listed the obvious, Fury, Maria, Sharon, and then he added Sam and the other Avengers for good measure. Hopefully it would cut any unneeded paranoia in the bud.

“That’s not a huge list, buddy,” Stark said.

“There’s more people than that,” Bucky’s Steve chastised. “Not all of SHIELD was HYDRA.”

“I’m not listing every random Tom, Dick and Harry that worked reception for SHIELD or whatever the fuck you’re implying,” Bucky said. “I’m leaving the list as this.”

“Whatever you can give us, it’s helpful,” Natasha said. “Thank you.”

Bucky nodded. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

More files were still coming in, Stark scrawling through them almost too fast to catch.

“Wait, look at this,” Natasha pointed at a screen of text. “Chat logs, live. They’re mentioning the Soldier.”

Bucky. He recognised the identifiers, past handlers of his. Rumlow, Rollins, and more.

“I think they saw you. They’re asking if any HYDRA department worked with clones.”

“Damn it, I can’t be here. Whatever they’re going to do, I can’t be here.” Bucky looked at his Steve. They’d already discussed how long they should stay here. From what Steve understood, time was fragile, and just because it had held up under what they’d already done, didn’t mean it would last. They would have to move forward with their own choices, bad or good. The future couldn’t be their guiding rod. It was too risky.

“What?” Past Steve said. “Why not?”

“We were never supposed to be here. And now HYDRA thinks they can get two Winter Soldiers?” Bucky shook his head. “Not happening.”

“So you’re just going to leave? Now? We might need what knowledge you have.” Past Steve looked between them as if he could convince them to stay through the sheer power of his earnestness.

“This isn’t our time. We helped you enough by getting him out. Anything more we do here - it’s risky.” Bucky’s Steve smiled wryly. “Sorry.”

“There’s a fight here that we need you for, and that’s your excuse?” Past Steve didn’t just look mad. He looked betrayed.

“This isn’t the first timeline I visited,” Bucky’s Steve said quietly. “There’s a whole lot more in a worse state than yours that I left behind.”

It would be a surprise to hear any version of Steve step down from a fight. For Bucky, who had seen his exhaustion when he’d first decided to go back to the 40s, it wasn’t. Steve had been fighting for a long time. There would always be more battles to fight. But Steve had chosen now to retire, and he was committing to it.

“We’ve already changed things enough by getting him out of their hands.” Bucky motioned to the Soldier. “I don’t know what staying here longer could do. We’re going, before we become a liability rather than an aid.”

Past Steve looked much the same as he did when Bucky said he was going back into cryofreeze, a decision he didn’t like but was coming to understand was happening anyway, no matter what he said. “Bucky, you just got back…”

“And he’s still here,” Bucky pressed. “You weren’t ever meant to meet me. Only him.”

Past Steve stared at the Winter Soldier, still curled up, tense and still on the floor.

“It gets better,” Bucky said. Insisted, for what he hoped was the last time. “But we need to go.”

“Cap, stop arguing with them. They’re clearly the experts on time travel, as much as it hurts me to admit that.” Stark looked at them over his shoulder, tapping something on his device. The metal cylinder - the time travel machine - rose out of his desk, held up by a metal arm. “We can handle this ourselves. Unless you think we’re not capable?”

“Of course not, Tony, but - “

“Then we don’t need them.” Stark waved the cylinder over at them. Bucky took it. The number now read 2027. “Might as well take it. I think it only synced with you because of our resident time traveller Steve here. I was checking the years and nothing else would click. Once he’s gone, it will be useless.”

“Guess that’s why it didn’t work for Stark in our timeline,” Bucky mused. He raised his eyes, looking them all over. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“It was good to see you,” Bucky’s Steve said. He looked at Natasha and Stark, and Bucky felt the words he was not saying. It felt like Steve was holding himself back, and Bucky nearly wondered why, before he remembered that they had kept him in custody believing him to be Loki for a week. That must put a dampener on any reunion.

“C’mon.” Bucky stepped over and raised his arm, allowing Steve to use him as a lean to. With another hand he flicked the switch and the world dissolved.

They landed in the warehouse. There was a body lying at their feet. The shooter. Bucky had nearly forgotten about that. Someone must have come in and dealt with him, going from the pool of blood spreading from his forehead.

Steve leaned over and vomited onto the floor.

“Chin up,” Bucky said, patting his hair. “It’s only this bad the first time.”

“Guess Stark cared more about the user experience when he redid it later,” Steve muttered, wiping his mouth clean.

Bucky heard a raucous going on near the front of the warehouse. Crash, bangs, and not too much screaming. Out of everyone Bucky could guess, probably was Yelena. She didn’t leave enough time for people to scream if they saw her.

“Should we go help with that?” Steve said.

“Nah, it’s handled,” Bucky said. He sat down on the floor next to Steve. Steve was staring at the floor, hands wrapped around the back of his neck like he was about to vomit again.

“It should pass quick,” Bucky said.

“It’s not that,” Steve sighed. “I feel like an asshole for leaving them.”

Bucky picked at his knee. There was a tear there where’d he’d skidded against the SUV. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, too caught up in everything.

“Yeah, well, I know you and if you committed to helping them, it would just be one thing after another. There’s always another fight, Steve. It only ends when you choose to stop fighting.”

“If people thought we were having this conversation, they’d never believe it,” Steve muttered.

“Stop with the self-loathing, it’s annoying,” Bucky said. “What’s the alternative? Keep going until you die? Don’t answer that, I know what you want to say and it’s stupid.”

Steve shut his mouth and glared at Bucky.

“I didn’t try and stop you going back to the 40s because I thought it would be good for you.” Bucky nudged Steve with his shin. “You won the war, and then won the next one, and then the next. If anyone deserves a retirement, it’s you.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, the air filled with their heavy breathing. There ware still noises coming from the end of the warehouse. No female voice crying in pain though, so Bucky wasn’t worried.

“Do you still think I should have gone back to the 40s instead?” Steve asked.

God, Steve really had to choose the difficult questions.

“I think you need to get a life. A real life. The 40s seemed like that was exactly what you wanted. I don’t get what you’re coming back for here.”

“Staying in the 40s wouldn’t be real either,” Steve said, a note of melancholy. “I don’t want that.”

“Then what do you want?” Bucky looked at him through the sides of his eyes, deeply curious. Steve had changed his mind, and Bucky couldn’t figure it out. What Steve had said before, about not wanting to lose people, it didn’t ring true. There was something else he was keeping back.

Steve stood up. The sudden motion nearly overbalanced Bucky, but he gracefully pulled himself back up.

“I want to go help whoever that is at the front,” Steve said, and walked off.

Bucky sighed. Fine, don’t tell him. He’d figure it out at some point.

“I told you, she has it handled,” Bucky said.

“Oh, it’s she now. You know her?” Steve called back over his shoulder. He started running down the long corridor in the middle of the warehouse and Bucky had to sprint to catch up. They slowed to a jog as they reached the doorway.

A lithe figure flipped through the air and landed flat in front of them. Her sweatshirt sleeves were riding up, so she pulled them down over her widow bites. She looked perfectly untouched, unlike the numerous bruised bodies surrounding her. But of course, none of these poised a match for Yelena.

Yelena’s eyes passed over Bucky and landed straight for Steve.

“Okay, this is weird. Is this a Stark tech thing?”

“More like a time travel thing,” Bucky said.

“Oh, shit. He’s real?” Yelena stepped forward, inspecting Steve. Steve held out his hand, a real man of his time.

“Hi, Steve Rogers. I assume you’ve heard of me?”

“Three years is not enough time for anyone to forget you, pal. Thought you learned that the first time. This is Yelena, Natasha’s sister.”

A smile rose on Steve’s face like the morning sunlight. “Yelena? I heard all about you from Nat. Wish I could have met you before.”

“Before she died for you all?” Yelena cracked a smile. “Don’t take it so seriously, she must have loved you a lot to do that.”

“We loved her too,” Steve said, love and grief all mixed together.

Yelena switched back to Bucky, all mission serious. “As fun as this is, is this a problem? Did something go wrong? Is he… permanent?”

“It’s not a problem,” Bucky said, “Don’t kill me if I’m wrong later. He’s going to be here, but keep it on the down low alright?”

“Wait,” Steve said, “How do you know each other?”

Yelena looked at Steve, looked at Bucky, eyes wide.

“It’s fine,” Bucky said tiredly. “We fight together.”

“Oh!” Steve said. “That’s nice.”

Yelena laughed. “I’m glad you think that’s nice, Steve.”

“You should probably also know,” Bucky added, already hating himself for being so awkward about this. “We’re both Avengers. Officially.”

Steve looked at Bucky, smile all too real, and that was the moment Bucky pinpointed exactly when his tiny heart burst.

“You have a team? That’s amazing, Buck,” Steve said. He clasped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky had to force himself not to lean into the touch, like a sunflower starved of sunlight. He’s almost forgotten what it felt like to be in Steve’s presence. It was impossible to look away from him, impossible to even step away.

Steve had left, but then he had come back, and now he was here and Bucky was just going to have to get used to that age old feeling of wanting more than he should.

Yelena stopped down and dragged out a phone from one of the bodies’ pockets.

“I’ll hand this over to Val.” She quickly turned it on to check it still worked then stowed it in one of her pockets. “You guys good?”

“Yeah, their aim was shit,” Bucky said. “I’m going to take Steve back and start setting him back up with life stuff. Can you make sure no one bothers us?”

Yelena shot him a look. Bucky didn’t want to know what she thought she was seeing, but there an air of knowing in her eyes that he really did not like.

“Distraction protocol, got it. Not a single soul will bother you.”

They left the warehouse and Bucky pulled out his phone to call a cab. Technically, their official residence was in the Tower, but there was no way in hell Bucky was taking Steve there. Even the idea of trying to explain John Walker was too stressful to consider. Instead, Bucky gave directions to his apartment he’d rented out in Brooklyn, close to home. It was a private studio, small but not inexpensive. He liked having somewhere to retreat that was just his. He didn’t doubt the other Avengers knew about it, but they appreciated his privacy enough not to bring it up around him, and that was enough.

Steve stared out of the window the whole cab ride. Bucky couldn’t imagine there was anything interesting enough to keep his attention, but that was fine. Bucky was busy enough figuring who to tell.

“Anyone you don’t want finding out you’re back?” Bucky asked after staring at his contact list for more than a minute.

Steve didn’t look away from the window when he replied. “Nah, I don’t care. Go with your judgement.”

Bucky went back to staring at his phone. He had more contacts than he used to - mostly for practical, Avenger based purposes.

After a bit more deliberation, he opened up Sam’s contact. He sent him a quick, brief message explaining the situation and then closed the app. Anyone else could find out later. Sam might not even read the message. He was still pissed at Bucky for the whole working with Val behind his back thing, and to be honest, Bucky didn’t blame him. If he wasn’t responsible for the rest of the Avengers now, he would gladly have let Sam take back the name. That would have screwed over all the rest of them that were now just trying to make amends for the ways their lives had gone, and none of them deserved to be thrown under the bus.

God, would Steve really be so happy about Bucky’ team if he knew the truth about their origins?

Probably, Bucky’s mind supplied through his self-loathing. It was Steve. He’d worked with Black Widow, Tony Stark. None of them had a clean slate before becoming what they had. History had glorified them all in retrospect, but that wan’t how it had began. Even Steve had joined to fight in a war for christ’s sake. Not sit around handing pamphlets on morality. He likely wouldn’t care.

They got to the apartment, Bucky handing the cab driver a hefty tip to make sure he would stay quiet. He’d hidden his metal arm underneath his scarf, but sometimes people still made the connection now his face was spread across the news almost daily.

The soft chiming of the elevator rang in their ears as they made their way up.

“This is where you are now?” Steve asked.

“Some of the time,” Bucky hedged. “I have another place. For Avengers business. I didn’t think you would want to go there. We can sort all that out later. I’m beat, and you had a worse week than I did.”

Steve laughed. It rang out in the elevator, a single sound, then died. “Yeah, you could say that.”

If Sam were here, he’d probably be pushing for Steve to open up about it. Technically, it could count as trauma, if you wanted to be all scientific about it.

“… do you want to talk about it?” Bucky asked.

Steve gave him a look. “I’m fine. I told you, I understood why they did what they did. Back then, Loki was the worst threat we’d ever faced. I would have done the same thing.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t shit for you.” Bucky couldn’t stop his voice from raising. The elevator stopped with a little chime and Bucky had to stop talking, needing the focus to unlock the door to the apartment. The key got jammed sometimes, a victim of his enhanced strength.

“As I was saying,” Bucky continued determinedly, once the door was opened. “It was still shit. It’s exactly behaviour like that that allowed SHIELD to be infiltrated in the first place. You trust the people to do their job, and sure maybe it’s a bit shit, but you’re scared and they all seem to have the best intentions, so why bother stopping them? Yeah, let’s lock up the scary monster in the cell and don’t even try to check up if it’s really what we think it is - “

“Bucky,” Steve called out. He looked amused. “I told you, I’m fine. And look, it’s done now. What are you going to do, travel back there and yell at them again?”

Bucky chucked his keys in his key bowl. He was being a bad host, not even introducing Steve to his place, but fuck it, this was important.

“Maybe you should give more of a damn about yourself! Look, this is serious, alright?”

“I know,” Steve said. His eyes were filled with warmth, that look only for Bucky as they stood alone in the apartment. “You got me out. It’s okay.”

Steve’s hands pressed down on his shoulders, equally weighted on both sides, like he was keeping him from flying away. It was only when he was forced into stillness Bucky realised he was shaking.

“If they got you, if I hadn’t been there - “ 

“I know,” Steve murmured, soft and low. “I know what could have happened. But it didn’t.”

Bucky let his head sway forward, knocking into Steve’s shoulder. He felt jitters pass through him, his metal fingers twitching. He had been the Winter Soldier, feared assassin, a ghost among men. He shouldn’t be having a breakdown because of only the possibility of what could have happened.

He just couldn’t help thinking about it. The fear of what could have been. So many lucky coincidences. Bucky turning up in that time. Bucky staying long enough to realise what was going on. Getting there before HYDRA could do anything to Steve. Steve had only just got back and his very existence felt fragile, like Bucky could blink and he would be gone again.

“Let’s sit down, okay?” Steve lead him over to his couch and they fell into place. Bucky kept his head down. He didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to see Steve’s expression and didn’t want Steve to see his.

Bucky reached forward and curled his fingers around Steve’s shirt. He smelled so strong, days of sweat that had layered on top of one another. Bucky didn’t care what it was from. It was Steve, and he was real, and he was here - sweat and all.

“I am glad you wanted to come back,” Bucky said. “I don’t know if I made that clear.”

Steve’s grip tightened on his shoulders. “You don’t have to - “

“No, I mean it.” It was easier to talk when Bucky’s face was hidden. “You know for me it was three years. Three years to adjust to the idea you were gone. We fucking mourned you.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Steve said. The vibrations of his voice passed through Bucky’s head, a comforting buzz of feeling.

“What changed your mind? Seriously, what was it?”

Steve shifted, his head leaning on Bucky’s own. It was like a small dark cocoon, Bucky barely able to see anything past Steve’s own bulk. The pressure was nice, comforting even.

“I just want to know,” Bucky said, small and feeble. 

“It was you, Buck,” Steve said. Bucky’s breath rasped out of his chest, punched out of him.

“Steve - “ Bucky made to push away but Steve’s grip tightened.

“No, let me - let me say this now, or else I never will. I was sat in that cell, knowing that either Thor would come and figure out I wasn’t his brother, or the alternative. What ended up happening. That HYDRA would take an interest and move me. I sat there, thinking about all of that, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. That you, at that moment were being treated like that. And if I followed through on my plan to go back to the 40s, would it be like this? Me, sitting around, knowing what happened to you, but not able to change it because of the stupid time travel rules? Even if I did get you out back then, change it, it wouldn’t change anything for you. The Bucky that I knew. All of that shit would still have happened. It wouldn’t be real.”

Bucky was quiet, a lump in his chest as big as an iceberg. As cold as one too, tricking down to his veins, slowing his thinking.

“So, what? It’s like… guilt?” Bucky said hoarsely, nervously.

“No,” Steve said vehemently. “It’s not guilt. Didn’t we talk about this? You got it through my head straight then.”

Bucky snorted. He remembered that conversation, back in Wakanda. Steve had been walking around all morosely when Bucky had made that decision to go into cryo. He’d been blaming himself, and Bucky couldn’t take it. It had gotten to the point where Bucky had yelled at him to cut it out, that this was Bucky’s choice, and Steve’s misplaced guilt wasn’t doing anything for anyone. That had helped clear the air.

“It’s not guilt,” Steve said again. The vehemence had dried up from him, leaving him sounding faintly fragile. “Look I… I want to do something. If I’m making entirely the wrong call, let me know, but… I want to do this.”

Bucky shifted, peering up at Steve curiously. He had no idea what Steve meant, but he couldn’t stop his heart beating faster in expectation. Those words meant something. They meant something real, something honest, and Bucky was frozen in place underneath it.

Steve lifted his head, shifted back slightly so they had room to breathe. He moved his hand up Bucky’s shoulders, pressure feather light. He looked scared, but that stubborn glint in his eyes was still there. Always would be there, Bucky hoped.

There was a pause where it felt like the world froze completely still. And then Steve leaned in, and the world shattered. Everything focused down on to the feeling of Steve’s lips on Bucky’s, wet and warm and real.

It felt like it lasted an eternity, or less than a blink of an eye, until Steve moved back. His eyes flickered nervously to the side, and what must have been in reflex, his tongue licked the remaining wetness off his lips.

“Shit, Steve, you sure know how to make a statement,” was all Bucky could say, before he leaned back in. This time the world didn’t freeze, and Bucky was glad for it. He was here, he was with Steve and this was real. Steve was here, now and in the future, and he wasn’t going to leave.

Bucky felt the blood rush under their mouths, and knew that it was true. Things weren’t going to be easy, wasn’t going to be perfect, but they were both here, together and that was enough.

They’d only ever needed each other to make the world complete.

Bucky couldn’t tell what time it was when he woke up, but it was dark, thick and impenetrable. Even in the dark there was no way to miss Steve next to him. Bucky’s hand drifted forwards. Under his touch, Steve’s heartbeat was a pounding drum, a resounding proof of life.

Steve’s breathing shifted, no longer so deep, and Bucky knew that Steve was awake.

“I’m still here,” Steve said.

Bucky huffed a laugh. It was like he’d read his mind, but then again, Bucky wasn’t being subtle.

“I know that.” Bucky moved to let go of Steve’s wrist, but Steve snatched hand back. Steve reached down for Bucky’s own pressure point, his own heartbeat. Bucky let him manhandle him. They all needed their own proof.

Steve’s hand slackened, no longer so tense, but he didn’t let go. He moved in closer, let Bucky hook his head over the crook of Steve’s shoulder. It was almost too warm, but Bucky couldn’t bear to move away.

“We should travel somewhere,” Steve murmured. Against the silence of the night, there was no missing them.

“Where?”

“Anywhere. No one’s chasing us anymore. There’s no war. We can be proper tourists.” Steve shifted, clothes rustling against the couch. They hadn’t bothered to move over to Bucky’s bed. Neither of them cared much for soft mattresses.

“That would be nice.”

“Wait, sorry, you have your team.” Bucky couldn’t see Steve’s wince, but he could hear it. “I can’t ask you to leave them.”

“Trust me, they’ll understand.”

“But if they need you…?”

“They’re capable fighters. They can deal without me for a while. I think you’re forgetting, it was never me who couldn’t back down from a fight.”

Steve huffed a laugh. Bucky could feel his chest contract underneath him, and he felt the unbearable feeling of longing to place his hand on that chest. Belatedly, he realised he could. There was nothing stopping him now.

He placed his hand on Steve’s chest. It was warm, and slightly soft to the touch, the slight buzz of his chest hair brushing against Bucky’s palm. This wasn’t a dream. This was real life.

Bucky stared up into the darkness, content as he could possibly be. More content than he’d thought possible.

If he could tell his younger self what his future held, well. He wouldn’t understand most of it. But however difficult the journey had been to get here, Bucky thought both of them could agree that the destination was worth it.