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Chapter Text

Wow hey people so I wrote this over summer after getting back into Marvel again and I wrote this purely for my own enjoyment, but I figured why not post it in case other people out there are yearning for Stucky; and why not post it all at once since I already wrote it? LMAO. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and please leave any thoughts/comments/questions/etc in the comments <3

Chapter Text

Steve Rogers was always getting into fights. Steve Rogers never knew how to run away from a fight. Steve Rogers came home to his flat, blocks away with bloody noses on days when James Bucky Barnes was out dancing with a dame. But when Bucky Barnes was there, Steve didn’t have to walk away, Bucky would chase the perpetrator away with a kick of his foot, a swing of his fist, some sharp words or a crack of his knuckles. He’d turn to Steve, shake his head and say “how many times are we gonna do this before you learn when to walk away?” To which Steve would reply “When people stop saying things that make me not want to walk away.”

However, bloody noses stopped entirely when the scrawny 5’5 fighter Bucky Barnes knew became the 6’0 star-spangled man with a plan the country fawned over. Suddenly, Steve led the charge, and although he never did learn to back down from a fight, his new assets made winning a lot easier. Especially now that Bucky was dead. Steve had woken up in 2011, knowing Bucky had to be gone by now. He had died on that train back in 1943, and while Steve was stuck in the ice which saved his life, Bucky had likely froze to death, waiting to be saved; praying for footsteps. What Steve didn’t know was that footsteps had come, and Bucky held onto hope for a few seconds, that they were Steve’s. But he knew better. Steve would’ve been running.

A while ago:

Bucky turned away, walking away from the fight. His metal arm adding making his walk heavier on his left side. He blinked his blue eyes rapidly. “Bucky?” “Who the hell is Bucky?” Repeated over and over in his mind as he headed back to Hydra’s base. “Bucky” eluded him at that moment, but the man’s face who called it didn’t. That blonde hair and that furrowed brow itched something in the very far back of his mind. However that body didn’t match it. Wherever he knew the face from, his frame was smaller in his memory. That couldn’t be the guy. But his body ached with a strange feeling. The Winter Soldier knew this man.

Back at the base, the same happened every time. The only reason he knew this was because Cryo Freeze didn’t remove his ability to know a rhythm. Hydra had trained him to report on the mission every single time.

“Mission report.”

Tortured silence.

“Mission report now,” Alexander spoke with an ice cold edge in his tone.

The soldier stared ahead, mind dazed, weak, exhausted.

The sound of a harsh slap across his soft cheek scorched the air, and only then did the soldier’s mind awaken.

“The man on the bridge… who was he?”

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment.”

I knew him.” He regretted saying it as soon as it came out, but it was as if he couldn’t stop himself. He had to release the feeling, or at least say it outward that there was something there. “He said my name was… but I knew him.” He held onto the face, temporarily relieving himself of his reality, until he heard “wipe him.”

“Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos, tomorrow morning, were gonna give it a push. But, you don’t do your part, I cant do mine. And Hydra can’t give the world the freedom it deserves.”

In a final act of what could’ve been desperation if his mind was anywhere sane, he spoke one last time.

“But I knew him.”

After a moment, Alexander stood up giving a silent hum, “Prep him.”

“He’s been out of Cryo Freeze too long.”

“Then wipe him and start over.”

The Winter Soldier knew better than to protest. It would be useless. Still as he heard his own screams of anguish he wished that maybe he could hold onto something as his memory was wiped. The machine whirred, and he thought repeatedly of the mysterious blonde man with blue eyes, and held onto his face. By the time The Winter Soldier was wiped clean, he had no memory of anything, except the extraordinarily faint outline of a blond-haired and blue-eyed face. It was blurry beyond measured, but it was there. It was the only thing that was there.

“Your mission: eliminate Captain America.”

“готов подчиниться.”

...

Steve Rogers would know that face anywhere. The scars across his cheek or the grown out stubble didn’t matter. Even if his hair cascaded down his back to the floor, Steve Rogers would know James Bucky Barnes anywhere.

After heading back with Nat, he sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands thinking about the way his best friend had said “who the hell is Bucky?” He sank his face further into his palm and let his teeth slightly bite the skin. Steve had memories of Bucky stacked in his mind like books on a shelf covered in dust. It wasn’t until the now called “Winter Soldier” stomped his way over and blew off the dust. Every alleyway he had saved him from, every double date with a dame who’d spend the evening looking at him anyway, every tissue being used to clean blood or a bruise, every time he found his eyes wandering to the hands cleaning and noticing the way they smoothly traced over his skin. The way he always had a few fleeting moments of almost reaching out to touch the hand tracing, and internally laughing it off; justifying it as craving affection with a woman who wouldn’t look at Sergeant Barnes instead of him. But who wouldn’t look at Sergeant Barnes when he looked like that? Deep brown hair, always coiffed perfectly, but never too styled. His hair seemed to just fall to place. His eyes with a constant light for the zest of life. A smirk always itching to get into trouble, but never failing to rescue his weaker pal from a fight he tried to, but could never finish.

What the hell had they done to him?

The hair that used to fall into place had grown out long and unkempt. He didn’t look bad, but he didn’t look like himself. His once bright eyes shone with anger, and had little life behind them. The charming boyish smirk was replaced with a vague expression, half frown, half something Steve couldn’t place. Almost like he wasn’t allowed to react. Hydra was a nazi organization, something Steve fought against in the forties. How on earth had they still been an issue? How long had Bucky been this way, and Steve had no idea? He felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t believe Hydra had taken a guy like Bucky, the kind charmer of Brooklyn, and turned him into a killing machine. He had to get through to him. He lost him on the train, he couldn’t lose him again.

...

“Your name is James, Buchanan, Barnes.”

“Stop saying that!” The soldier shouted, throwing his metal fist at the other man. He fought the feeling that he knew him. However, he still saw the faded outline he saw the day Hydra wiped him. Nothing came back yet, but there was something about this man in front of him that he couldn’t shake. He wasn’t fighting back. He had a shield, and wasn’t fighting back. As the soldier pushed him to the edge of the building, he got a closer look at the man’s face. Battered and bruised with a little blood. The pang in his chest from before worsened.

“I’m not gonna fight you.” The soldier stared at the battered face in front of him, his brows furrowed and eyes wide. He held onto the man tight, willing himself to kill him, but he waited one more moment, feeling his own eyes softening.

“Cause I’m with you. Till the end of the line.”

The soldiers face dropped, and all of a sudden a flash came before him. He was placing his hand on the shoulder of a scrawny boy in a tan jacket too big for him. He heard his own voice say “I’m with you till the end of the line.” But before he could react, the man fell into the water below. The Winter Soldier stayed there, kneeled and bewilderedly watched him go. Still, his mind pulled him toward the man and he dove in after him.

Chapter Text

Bucky sat opposite Steve on the couch, taking a swig of water and signaling to Steve to try again.

“Okay, do you recognize this?”

Steve turned around a hand-drawn image of Coney Island. It was beautifully illustrated, the shading done just so for the sunlight to be shown in simple grey pencil. Bucky studied the image for a moment.

“Yeah. I do. Coney Island.”

“Do you remember what we used to do there?”

“We um…” he took another gulp of water, flexing and squeezing his metal hand “We went on that one ride…” he paused for too long a moment and Steve had to step in.

“The cyclone.”

Bucky nodded in resignation, frustrated that he didn’t know the name. “I made you go on it and you threw up” he laughed dryly.

Steve smiled, wider on the inside than on the out. He didn’t want to freak Bucky out. “You did. I always swore I’d get you back.”

“Did you?”

“Never did.” He never got the chance. “We don’t have to do anymore today Buck. I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming you.”

“You’re not, I’m sorry I’m not remembering more.”

Steve’s face shifted to immediately comfort his friend “Don’t be sorry” he reached out and touched the other man’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Steve feeling like Bucky needed to be alone but not wanting to leave, and Bucky wanting to be alone but didn’t know how to ask Steve to leave.

“Do you… need anything else?” Steve asked tentatively.

Bucky swallowed silently, mustering a shake of the head.

“Okay.” Steve got up slowly, “Goodnight Buck,” he said as he walked away, looking behind him to check on Bucky.

“Goodnight,” Bucky replied, watching him go down the hallway, turn to the left, and hearing his door close. He was left in the light of the living room and the darkness of the night sky through the huge avengers tower windows. Somehow, Steve had gotten through to Tony about the winter soldier killing his parents. Bucky had no idea how. He wouldn’t have forgiven himself. Heck he still hadn’t. Even so, one day Tony came over to him with his hand out, and Bucky shook it, apologizing for the millionth time. Tony simply smiled and said “it wasn’t you,” and since then, they had been okay.

During the day, the avengers plotted solutions, discussed strategies, while Bucky sat in the living room watching forties films. Every once in a while, Steve would come up and check on him, usually being met with a brief strained smile and a nod, to which Steve would stand in the hallway for a lingering moment, his eyes tracing up and down Bucky before leaving. Steve didn’t know, but every time he came to check up on his friend, Bucky would get flashes of a memory coming back to him. Sometimes they came because of the way Steve stood, like when he crossed his foot over his ankle and reminded Bucky of the nights they’d have joking standoffs to choose what to see at the cinema. Or Steve’s tone of voice, usually tentative to speak to him, reminding him of the way he meekly spoke when Bucky would clean his wounds while attempting to sound strong and contain his pride. He hated how tentative Steve was of him, but he didn’t blame him. However, his strongest memories were just in the way Steve looked at Bucky. When he’d smile, Bucky would get a flashback of himself stating “don’t do anything stupid till I get back” to which Steve would reply “how can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky always breathed a little easier after a new memory popped up. It was like he took one step closer to Bucky Barnes and one step further from the winter soldier.

Bucky placed his hands behind his head and sighed. He took the blanked placed on the couch and knelt to the carpeted ground. He laid down and sprawled the blanket over himself, repeating “don’t do anything stupid till I get back”, “how can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you;” over and over again in his head whilst trying to prevent scenes of him killing, from creeping in every time he closed his eyes.

Steve in the next room ran a hand through his hair. His light was already off, but he couldn’t resist going to check in on Bucky’s room which Tony had given him the day he’d began staying in the avengers tower. Sure enough, it was squeaky clean without any sign of use whatsoever. The bed was as crisp as the day it was made up over a month ago. Bucky still hadn’t slept in his room. And worse, that meant he still hadn’t slept on a bed.

Steve quietly walked into the living room, seeing Bucky tensely covered with a blanket on the floor. He wished he could throw him over his shoulder and carry him to his bed but he knew Bucky would wind up on the floor anyway. He didn’t believe he deserved comfort. And the room was foreign to him. Steve sighed and sulked back to his room, lying on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. They’d try again tomorrow. He had many more drawings.

Chapter Text

The next two weeks were met with a little more success, but not notable enough for Steve to become optimistic. Bucky was warming up to him, but still slept on the floor of the living room and didn’t talk unless asked to. He’d stare into Bucky’s eyes and think about how full of life they once were and felt guilty about wishing he could taste those moments again. It was selfish. His best friend had been through the worst imaginable thing and here he was, thinking about how much he missed the good times. Still, it weighed on him every once in a while when he’d catch Bucky do something he used to do. At a particularly funny joke where he’d show his now rare laugh, the corners of his mouth would turn up almost the way they once did. He stood up the same way he always had, hands on his thighs pushing him up, just now with less spring. Even with short hair, he could never resist fixing it, only now there was more to fix. Steve never could pull away from Bucky’s hands, though. The shape hadn’t changed, but there were bruises that still hadn’t healed. There were calluses, and a metal one where the one that used to hold him still while he wriggled mid-patch up, used to be. Every so often when he’d catch himself looking at them and feeling heartbroken for how much Bucky had suffered, he stayed a minute too long with the feeling he had long ago, that odd comfortable feeling of Bucky touching him. He held onto it longer now, only pushing it away when he thought Bucky would catch him.

“Hey Buck, want anything?” Steve asked from the kitchen while grabbing himself a glass of water.

The soldier stared ahead at the TV, some random sitcom playing with a laugh track in the background. Steve, used to the lack of response, made Bucky a glass of water anyway, and went to sit down next to his friend.

“Let’s keep going, okay?”

Bucky nodded as Steve held up an old photograph he printed out. “Can you tell me anything about this night?”

Bucky studied the image, he saw it was of himself and Steve laughing in a bar. He recognized the bar from the forties, and recognized his old uniform.

“That’s… the Brooklyn white bear; that bar we used to go.”

Steve couldn’t control the beam that spread across his face. Some of his best memories with Bucky were spent in that bar.

“Do you remember this night specifically?”

Bucky closed his eyes and thought hard. He had a quick flash to the moment that picture was taken.

“We were on a double date… I found us two dames… Maddie was yours, she had blonde locks and blue eyes. Mine was Dot… she had a full name but I know I called her Dot.”

“Dolores.”

“She had bright red hair and they had gone to the bathroom. We were at the bar and the bartender…”

“Lenny,” Steve finished.

“Lenny… he took a photo of us.”

“You were always taking us on double dates.”

“Couldn’t leave you outta all the fun,” Bucky half-smiled.

“The girls were all over you. They only ever stayed on the date with me so they could look at you all night.”

Bucky laughed dryly, “I loved those double dates. I loved dancing.”

“You were the best dancer in Brooklyn.”

“I don’t remember any moves.”

“Maybe they’ll come to you. I’d teach you but I was a terrible dancer.”

Bucky laughed, “yeah I remember. You were always stepping on the girls’ feet. You could never see your own feet under those oversized pants of yours.”

“I wanted to feel big and strong like you.”

“Well look at you now Captain America,” Bucky said with a salute, “you’re bigger than me.”

“Remember what you said when you were following me to that hydra base in 43?”

Bucky wanted to say it, but genuinely couldn’t remember the words. He smirked as confidently as he could and said “Tell me,” in an effort to make it look like he knew but wanted Steve to tell him first.

“I’m not following Captain America. That little guy from Brooklyn who could never run away from a fight, I’m following him.’ And you did.”

Bucky smiled, “Yeah I did.”

“You know Dot.. you spent three dollars trying to win her a stuffed animal once.”

“Was it that night?”

“Nope, you went on multiple dates with her.”

“And what about Maddie?”

“She took one look at you once I showed up and that was that.”

“How much is 3 dollars now?”

“About seventy.”

“Holy shit.”

Steve laughed loudly, his head thrown back for a second before looking at Bucky. “I’ll let you go for the night.”

Bucky didn’t want him to go yet. He managed to control it in the day, but his mind consumed him at night. But he couldn’t find the words to ask him to stay.

“Goodnight Buck.”

“Goodnight Steve.”

Upon watching him go, Bucky swallowed and turned his attention back to the TV. As two characters made their way inside a building, the flashback of the double date night got stronger.

“Hey Stevie!”

The scrawny boy turned around, his jacket too big over his shoulders.

“Hey!”

“Well hurry up, don’t leave us hangin!”

Steve walked faster toward his friend and the two girls on either arm of him. Bucky always looked dapper in his outfits, a smirk playing on his face.

“Maddie, this is Steve, I can assure you he’ll treat ya good tonight.”

Maddie gave him a once over, unimpressed, turning back to Bucky.

“Well are we gonna go and dance or what?”

Bucky turned to Dot offering her his hand, “Yes we are.” He pulled the door of the bar back, and gestured for the two to go inside. He clapped Steve on his back and whispered “It’s gonna be good.”

Inside, Dot immediately grabbed Bucky’s hand and he spun her around the floor. Her dress swayed as he moved with her to the music. Steve watched intently, studying the way he moved, the look on his face as he stared at his date. He gulped and turned to Maddie.

“Care for a dance?”

She stifled a groan and took his hand “Sure.”

He took her to the dance floor, holding her waist stiffly. He looked over again at Bucky, seeing him sway Dot with such ease, his hand comfortable on her waist as he smirked down at her, saying something flirty that made her throw her head back and laugh.

“Ow!” Maddie said with a frown, Steve having stepped on her shoes.

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve replied apologetically.

He looked over to Bucky who was looking at him, lightly laughing at his friend’s misstep.

“Move back slightly, keep your feet away and your chest and body close.” Steve nodded and did as he said. He breathed a sigh of relief when the moves became easier. Still, he found himself only slightly jealous of the ease at which Bucky moved. He was just so confident in everything he did. It was easy when he looked like that though. No wonder every girl fell hard immediately.

The dance came to an end and Steve quickly and politely stepped away from Maddie while Bucky stayed close to his date, smoking down at her.

“Dot, come with me to the bathroom.” Maddie spoke, gripping the air with her fingers for Dot to follow her. Dot took her hand and with a wink to Bucky, followed her friend to the bathroom. Steve sighed as Bucky clapped a hand on his back.

“Don’t sweat it, you’ll get em next time,” he spoke with an endearing smile.

“Seems like you say that every time,” Steve frowned.

“And one of these days, I’ll be right.”

The two walked to the bar, Bucky signaling to Lenny the bartender to grab them their usuals. An old fashioned for Steve, and an ice cold beer for Bucky.

“Thanks Lenny,” Steve spoke, holding his drink up in acknowledgment.

“No problem boys. Want a photo? Just bought a camera for the bar!”

“Hell, sure!” Bucky spoke, throwing his arm around Steve’s shoulder with a laugh.

“Aw c’mon Stevie, gimme a smile,” Bucky teased as Lenny bent down to grab the camera.

“If I don’t see those cheeks turn up I’m gonna pull you to the floor and sway you myself.” Steve let out a genuine laugh, infecting Bucky as well just in time for Lenny to snap the camera.

“Perfect. That’s going on the wall.”

“So one day when Steve finds his girl, he can take her to this bar, and she can see his face on the wall and go, “that one’s mine.’”

Bucky yawned, smiling slightly at the memory. He took the blanket off the arm of the couch, and slide down to the floor. He draped it across himself, reaching his flesh arm up to the couch and grabbing a pillow, placing it under his head.

“Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Bucky took a deep breath and slowly fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Steve was a deep sleeper, but it was frequent that he would wake up in the middle of the night with a nightmare; often remembering his fight with Tony, or Bucky filled with pure rage fighting against him. Per usual protocol of those nights, Steve got up and headed to the training area, planning to work himself out until he was completely worn out- tired enough to fall asleep without any more memories to taunt him before he drifted off.

Steve groggily walked to the elevator while rubbing his eyes, and stepped inside.

“Your usual for this hour Mr. Rogers?”

“Yes, Jarvis, thank you.”

Steve leaned against the wall of the elevator, his head dropped as he stared down at the floor.

“Your floor Mr. Rogers.”

“Thank you Jarvis,” he replied as he stepped out.

He made his way down the hall, stretching his arms as he went in preparation. Once inside the training area, he went straight for the punching bags, grabbing the hand tape next to him. He wrapped his hands a few times before getting into position. He exhaled quickly and threw the first punch. For Steve, the punching bags were addictive. They were the best way to release anger, stress, or to wear him out. As soon as he’d throw the first punch, throwing another was unquenchable. His fists became looser and looser as his punches became faster. He no longer cared about form, only releasing whatever the hell was inside.

“Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

Another set of punches.

“Your name is James, Buchanan, Barnes.”

“Stop saying that!”

A harder punch.

“I’m with you, till the end of the line.”

He swung his left fist at the bag with a level of force only a super soldier could muster, and the sand of the bag quickly began pouring out.

Breathing heavily, Steve looked down at his left hand, still somewhat masked by the tape, but slowly being infected by blood. He ripped the tape off, inspecting where the blood was coming from- his palm. Luckily, this wasn’t the first time that had happened, so there was a small medicine chest right nearby, but it was the first time since Bucky came back. Steve walked over to the chest and grabbed some rubbing alcohol and gauze. He patched up his hand easily, and despite it being a shorter workout than he had planned, he decided to call it a night.

He walked out of the training area, successfully worn out, heading back toward the elevator.

“All finished Mr. Rogers?”

“Yes Jarvis, thank you.”

Steve stepped inside the elevator and fought off sleep, his mind too tired to think.

“Your floor Mr. Rogers.”

“Goodnight, Jarvis,” he spoke with a yawn, exiting the elevator.

“Goodnight Mr. Rogers.”

Steve trudged back to his room, taking off his now sweaty shirt and climbing into his bed. He turned over on his side, sighing deeply and falling asleep.

Chapter Text

“Bucky you’re gonna burn the pancakes!”

“Lighten up Stevie, we’ve got more batter.”

The shorter man sighed, sitting on the couch and watching his friend burn the pancakes that already took him a long time to make the batter for.

“Watch, they’re gonna taste great.” The brunette said as he flipped over a second pancake, making Steve sigh.

Bucky plated the two and handed it to Steve with a fork and their messy carton of maple syrup.

“Eat up.”

Steve broke off a piece, doused it with syrup and placed it into his mouth.

“Bucky, how much flour did you use?”

“Whatever it said on the back for pancake mix.”

Steve stood up and walked to their small cabinet, taking out the flour with pancake mix instructions on the back.

“So you put 2/3 cup, right?”

“I put 1 cup, isn’t that what it says?”

“No dumbass, it says 1 cup of milk and 2/3 cup of flour.”

“Oh.” Bucky chuckled, “my fault.”

Steve almost wanted to be mad, but he could never stay mad at Bucky when he was smiling at him like that. He always caved due to that friendly boyish smile.

“You’re so lucky we have extra flour.”

“Lucky I have you,” Bucky smiled, giving his friend a pat on the shoulder.

“Buck, want breakfast?”

Everyday, Steve would ask Bucky questions like “are you hungry?” “Want some water?” “What do you want for dinner?” And Bucky could never properly answer. Hydra taunted him about food. He was never given a choice, and the winter soldier was never asked what he wanted. They chose when to give him food, when to give him water, what kind of food they’d give him. He wasn’t allowed to eat or drink without permission, so when Steve asked him what he wanted instead of commanding him, he didn’t know how to respond.

“Bucky, you should eat something.”

That felt more like a command.

“Ok.”

Steve smiled, plating up two pancakes and dousing them in maple syrup.

“I’ve gotten better at cooking.” Steve spoke with a smile, handing Bucky the plate and cutlery.

“You were better than me anyway.”

Steve smiled at him and sat next to him.

“How are you feeling today?”

“I’m alright,” he always answered in three words or less. He was still getting used to being asked about how he was feeling.

“Anything you want to do today?”

Bucky swallowed, he never thought that far ahead about anything since he came back. He wasn’t even sure what was still the same in New York.

Steve stared at him, willing him to answer. When no answer came, Steve stared ahead, resigned, and said “How long has it been since we went to the theater?”

“Since that one show I really like premiered.” He swallowed, attempting to remember the name.

“Anything Goes?”

“That’s the one.”

“Any chance it hasn’t closed in seventy years?”

“Unfortunately. But there’s a lot of great ones on now. You could read up on them and see what you like.”

“How does one go about seeing the theater nowadays?”

“Everything’s online.”

Bucky rolled his eyes “Back in my day, if we wanted to see something we went to the ticket booth and asked.”

“Maybe it’s time to use that phone Tony gave you.”

Bucky sighed, “Yeah. Maybe.” He took the phone out of his pocket, something he always carried with him but never touched. He unlocked it, something Tony taught him how to do. Steve gently took it from him and pulled up the ticket website.

“You can read the blurbs on here.”

Bucky nodded and took the machine from his friend. He scrolled through the plots, grimacing at some that would’ve been deemed scandalous in his day. He read through the plots until he stumbled upon one that caught his attention.

“Sunset Boulevard, that one’s based on a film noir?”

“Yeah, I heard of that one. You liked film noir, Maltese Falcon was constantly rewatched at the cinema.”

“The movie came out in 1950. Seven years after…” Bucky never liked discussing the fall. It was the unspoken elephant in the room. The guilt Steve never shook, and the trauma Bucky never discussed. Steve never knew what happened after Bucky fell, he had theories on how he survived but never any confirmation. Part of him wanted to know, part of him knew he would never be the same if he knew.

“Yeah it did. It’s supposed to be pretty dark.”

“I read the description. I don’t mind.”

“How about we buy some tickets tonight?”

Steve would try just about anything to get Bucky out of the house. The Avengers Tower may have been spacious, but it wasn’t as cozy as their one bedroom back in Brooklyn. And, everyone had temporarily moved into the largest floor due to mission planning (and of course Steve’s desire to have Bucky close). Steve was sure Bucky must’ve missed something that felt homey, even if it was another indoor place. He and Bucky always saved their pennies, coughing up 4.40$ to see a show when they could.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Steve pulled out a credit card from his wallet in his pocket, Bucky marveling at it.

“That’s a credit card,” Bucky spoke as definitively as he could.

“Yeah. Tony gave me one to give to you when you’re ready.”

Bucky nodded, watching Steve punch in the numbers after picking two seats high up from the stage, but front row.

Total: 468.92

“Good God,” Bucky stared in disbelief. “Back then a ticket at most was 8.40.”

Steve laughed, “8.40 is about 186 today.”

Bucky’s face shot up, “I guess we’re lucky Tony’s got us covered.”

“He’s so rich he won’t even notice we bought these.”

Bucky snickered as Steve clicked purchase.

“So it starts at eight.”

Bucky nodded with a small smile, secretly happy to be out of the tower. Steve stared at him for a moment, watching him take a bite of the pancake.

“We’ll leave about 6:30?”

“Sure.”

Steve stared for a moment before nodding and standing up, leaving Bucky alone. Once alone, Bucky sighed, shoving another fistful of pancakes into his mouth. He didn’t like eating in front of people, Hydra would stare him down as he ate, snickering with hardened eyes as he scarfed down the little food they gave him. It was a source of shame. He craved food as much as he hated eating it. Hydra took pleasure in watching him eat as fast as he could, they relished the control they had over him, feeling content while watching him eat with haste, knowing they could take it away at any moment. When he was alone, he could eat as fast as he wanted. He had choices now, but all the time spent chewing as fast as possible formed a habit. Even out of captivity, he still ate as if someone would appear and snatch his plate at any moment.

As he finished his plate, he sighed deeply in relief, almost a twinge of contentment, but not quiet. Thankful no one had taken his plate. He stared down at the floor, his unwashed hair framing his face. He ran a hand through it, feeling how the oil pilled up between his fingers and grimaced. He twisted the strands between his fingers, feeling them become more slick as he did so. He trilled his lips, he knew it was time for a shower.

As shameful as it felt, Bucky despised the feeling of being clean. Water rushing down his body, onto his back, across his arms, slipping into the cuts and scars near his shoulder where the metal resided. The sensation of the water pouring gently from a shower head felt no different to the rough hose Hydra agents used to wash his body. The lack of decency he was given, naked and exposed as the sharp stream ran down his body and irritated his skin. The barely palm size bar of soap they gave him to use- his only form of autonomy being that he could use the soap as desired. Except when he refused to run it down his left arm. The sensation of the water was already bad enough but the agents insisted dirt and blood would fall in between the crevices. Still, the Winter Soldier wouldn’t have it. It was too close to the scars on his shoulder. They weren’t from the placement of the prosthetic weapon, they were from his repeated attempts to rip it off. He’d growl and hiss like a wild animal when the agent would snatch the soap from him and try to rub it from his shoulder to his metal fingers. He’d bare his teeth fighting through his brainwash for any shred of dignity still there. It was never successful. No matter how many times he fought, they’d give him one clear slap across the face, and he’d be ready to comply. He got used to the sting, but it was never any less painful.

He shuddered at the memories, wringing his fingers as he grappled with the knowledge that he was due for a shower. He always showered before going to the theater. It made him feel rich despite being anything but. Showing up with well groomed hair, smelling like a million bucks. Winking at cute dames who sat next to him. Those days were long over. But cleanliness was still a possibility. He pressed his hands to his thighs and stood up. From the other room, Steve heard Bucky’s footsteps nearing the guest bathroom shower. Steve pursed his lips and sighed lightly. Bucky still refused to use anything in his room.

Bucky made his way inside the bathroom, standing and staring at the clear glass shower. It was as if it was glaring back at him, daring him to break the cycle of hatred for the sensation of water on his body. He stepped into the tiled chamber, twisting the knob that read “hot” and then the one that read “cold” just slightly. As the water began to run, he stepped out quickly, staring at the chamber again. He studied the steady stream of water as it fell to the floor, his steel blue eyes blinking slowly, his body inching slowly toward the water. After another minute of the standoff between him and the non-living liquid, he decided he couldn’t let something that didn’t even know  was taunting him, to taunt him. He slowly and gingerly removed his shirt, unbuttoning the three buttons on his cotton shirt, then pulling it over his head. Next, he pulled off his sweats, letting them drop to the floor and stepping out of them. He pulled down his underwear and stepped out once more. With a small exhale, he stepped into the now warm water, shuddering at the feeling. The liquid ran down his back, across his arms, down to his thighs and feet. He stepped back slightly, letting the shower head aim for his chest and stomach. He breathed deeply as the water ran down his pectorals and abs.

He stood for a moment, letting the water rush over him, fighting off the memories that seeped between the cracks and crevices of his body. He ran his hands through his hair, gently reaching for the shampoo in the corner. He opened the cap, and gently squeezed some of the shampoo into his calloused palm. He rubbed it through his soaked hair, flinching slightly at the knots entangled, remembering how the agents would yank them apart. He let the water run from his scalp down to the ends of his hair, the suds of shampoo disappearing in the drain.

He reached over and tentatively grabbed the bar of soap. He started down his right arm, taking his time and attempting shallow breaths as he did so. He paused for a long moment before moving to his left arm. However, as soon as he ran the soap down, he felt the all too familiar sting of the soap on his cuts and scars. With a shudder, he dropped the soap to the tile floor with a loud clang.

“Bucky?” Steve called with a worried tone from the next room.

Bucky stared down at the soap and then his arm, watching the soap maneuver its way around the cuts and scars.

“Buck?” Steve called again, to no avail.

Bucky heard fast and hard footsteps down the hall. He slid down the side and stared at his arm. The door opened without warning and Steve stepped in.

“Bucky?” He said as he stared ahead at the now curled up smaller man in front of him, soaked by the water pouring over his skin.

“Hey, hey,” Steve immediately opened the shower door, stepping inside fully clothed. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He had no idea what caused this, but he knelt down in front of his friend, grasping his shoulders and staring intently. His eyes once so full of life were replaced by unmistakeable sad pools, somehow slightly dull in their once bright color. Steve hated it.

Bucky didn’t say a word. Barely made eye contact with Steve. He wasn’t crying, but his face flushed as he attempted to breathe through the water running down his face.

“I mean hey, at least you’re showering,” Steve quipped, attempting to shake his friend out of whatever caused him to be on the shower floor.

“Smelled that bad, huh?”

“No, no! I’m just-“

“Steve,” Bucky cut him off, “I’m joking.” He said with a smile so small it was barely noticeable. Anyone who hadn’t known Bucky as long as Steve would’ve missed it entirely.

Steve laughed, “Do you need any help?”

“I’m alright,” Bucky responded.

“Okay,” Steve smiled sadly, tapping Bucky’s knee twice; fully unfazed by his naked frame. They lived alone in a one bedroom apartment with a singular bathroom. Seeing each other naked was completely inevitable. Bucky had always been lean and muscular. His arms with strong ripples from his shoulders to his forearms. Steve was never afraid of losing a fight when Bucky was there (not that he’d ever back down either way). Still, Steve couldn’t help but notice how much bulkier Bucky had become. His once toned muscles had gotten undeniably bigger and stronger, his biceps doubling in size, hell even his metal arm looked larger. His shoulders were buff and wide, covered in scars near his metal arm. His once lean abs had grown ripped, the previous faint outline of a six pack now prominent on his stomach. His chest grew also, matching his arms. Steve wondered what kind of things Hydra had him doing to obtain this kind of physique. Still, he didn’t complain. His friend looked… healthy at least.

“Well I’m here if you do.” Steve smiled a little more gently and stood up, his clothes soaked fully now. He stepped out of the glass shower and opened the front door, leaving quietly. Once gone, Bucky leaned his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes and pushed himself back up to standing. He picked the soap up as he stood, deciding to wash his legs first. Baby steps.

Chapter Text

Steve couldn’t shake what happened earlier. He buttoned up a crisp blue shirt, leaving two buttons at the top unbuttoned and studying his reflection. He wanted to know what had Bucky rattled, but knew better than to pry. He wouldn’t get an answer.

He exited his room and found Bucky waiting for him on the couch, crisp black t-shirt covering his frame, and well chosen jeans. His hair was perfectly clean and fluffy, loose but presentable. He’d forgotten how good Bucky looked when he wasn’t disgruntled and worn out. Even then he was still handsome.

Bucky stood up when Steve entered, still habitually at attention when someone dressed authoritatively entered the room- an old habit from the war.

Bucky studied him for a moment, looking Steve up and down, stopping at his chest.

“Still catches me off guard to see you taller than me.” He stated with a small smirk.

Steve snickered, “Hey, you’re still more buff than I am.”

Bucky’s smile faded a little, “Yeah.”

“Much nicer not being a little guy anymore. People like me a bit better now. I mean, more than they would have.”

“I never cared how big you were. I-“ he trailed off “it never mattered to me. You were always Steve. I never minded getting you outta trouble.”

“Couldn’t help myself.”

“Never could. Never minded though.”

“Stubborn and young.”

“Stubborn and right.”

Steve smiled, the notion of Bucky saying he was right out loud warmed his insides.

“Ready to go?”

“Yep.”

Steve walked down the hallway, trailed by Bucky. They walked in silence into the elevator, Steve thanking Jarvis when they stepped in, and then out on the ground floor. They walked to the subway as well as the ride itself were spent in silence. Both Bucky and Steve kept their heads low, covered with the very poor disguise of baseball caps. Bucky kept his hands in his pockets, Steve opting for clasping them while his elbows rested on his spread legs.

Once they were off the train, the walked the five minute walk to the theater, Times Square somehow even busier than they remember. Steve thought on him racing outside after waking up from the cyro freeze, experiencing a shock to the system at how much had changed. He assumed Bucky would be having the same experience.

“It’s… very different.”

“Yeah it is,” Steve smiled.

Bucky looked around as they walked, moving 360 while he took in the sights. It was beautiful, but different. He was mad he hadn’t seen it sooner.

Soon, the two arrived at the theater, Steve pulling out his phone and fumbling around to find his digital tickets. Bucky marveled at the sight, deeming Steve as tech savvy despite the fact that Steve had only picked up on technological feats recently. He still found it completely foreign.

They walked to the line, heads still down covered by their baseball caps. When they approached the woman checking bags, they passed through easily, having brought nothing with them. However, when they turned to face the metal detector, Bucky’s face dropped. He wasn’t sure how to explain the metal arm, even less sure how the inspector would react upon seeing the distinct star if he was asked to pull his sleeve up, giving his identity as the winter soldier away. He gulped, and Steve put a comforting hand on his flesh arm.

“I’ve got it.”

Steve stepped through the door first, looking behind him to make sure Bucky was close behind. Bucky followed him, stepping in close as Steve stepped through the metal detector, waiting for Bucky to walk through. Bucky took a deep breath and walked through, immediately flinching at the loud sound that went off upon his exit.

“Excuse me sir,” the man handling the detector spoke, serious look on his face. “Do you have any metal on you?”

Bucky looked at Steve who nodded, gesturing to pull up his long sleeve only slightly, showing just his metal forearm. Although still distinct, he worried that wouldn’t be enough for the guard. However, the guard inspected his forearm, tilted his head to the side and nodded.

“All good.” He stated as he let Bucky continue moving. Bucky exhaled with relief, Steve flashing him a small comforting smile. They reached the inside doors, Steve holding out his phone for the woman with the barcode scanner to scan.

“Up the stairs to the center, enjoy the show.” She smiled at the two of them, Steve nodding in response. His politeness giving his face away as he tilted his head up during the nod. The woman’s jaw dropped, but before she could even utter the common “You’re Captain America!” Steve and Bucky had swiftly moved forward.

“Wasn’t too bad, eh?” Steve quipped, to which Bucky responded with a half-smile and silence.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Steve walked to the woman in the middle, holding his phone out to her with a gentle “hi.” The woman responded “hi,” back with a  matching warm smile.

“Front mezz, go all the way down to the first usher at the bottom.”

“Thank you,” Steve spoke earnestly, Bucky following behind.

When they walked down all the stairs to the first row, the usher at the bottom smiled at them.

“Welcome,” he spoke, taking a look at Steve’s phone.

“Perfect, you’re right here, row A, seats four and six.” He handed Steve and Bucky each a playbill before stating cheerfully “Enjoy the show!”

“Thank you,” Steve spoke for what Bucky felt like the tenth time tonight, as the two slid into their seats. Right smack in the middle of the first row. Steve did a great job at picking the seats.

“So how’s the view?” Steve asked, looking over at Bucky.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he stared ahead at the stage. The theaters were certainly more involved than the ones in the forties. It was amazing to see.

“Great,” Bucky smiled- a small, barely there smile, but genuine.

It was the first time Steve had seen genuine peace on Bucky’s face in months. There was something about an atmosphere where you could go to watch people act out troubles instead of being left alone with your mind to process your own.

Soon enough, the lights began to dim, and Bucky leaned back in his seat, clapping when everyone else did.

During the first act, Steve stared ahead, engrossed in the show, but occasionally looking at Bucky for his reaction. However, Bucky never turned his face away from the stage. He was entranced by the choice of direction and all black and white atmosphere. During the second act however, Steve found himself reading Bucky’s expressions more closely. He almost wanted to will Bucky to have a good time, but he didn’t even need to. His usually tense shoulders relaxed, and his usually fiddling fingers were relaxed calmly on his thigh. Even in the dark, Steve saw his eyes free of stress. However, that relief shifted quickly when all the lights went out. Gunshots as part of the scene fired in the pitch dark, bright white light quickly flashing in between them. Bucky’s breathing became more erratic, Steve could hear it with his heightened senses. He could hear Bucky’s metal arm rattling as he shook it out. His eyes blinked rapidly and he stared at the nearest exit sign, his brain mentally planning an escape route like it was embedded in his being.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was reaching out with his metal hand for Steve’s hand in the dark, grasping it tightly for an ounce of security. The Winter Soldier was good at darkness, but the healing version of Bucky Barnes found it difficult to function in it, his mind flashing to his battles and his victims blood colored pitch in dark lighting; but still understandably blood.

Steve grasped back, staring at Bucky in the dark, who still stared at the stage. Steve’s brow furrowed with worry, clenching his hand around Bucky’s metal one even tighter. The stage lights went on slowly soon enough, Bucky visibly relaxing with a release of his shoulders. He gently removed his hand from Steve’s, not acknowledging the touch at all. Steve turned his attention back to the show, but his mind still lingered on Bucky. His mind worried about him, wondering what about the dark set him off. He didn’t even have time to process the fact that he held his hand.

A few minutes after that, the show ended, the audience uproarious, Bucky included, having quickly pushed away his brief falter in relaxation. It weighed on him, but once again, something about being able to watch a woman delve into madness distracted him for the remaining minutes. He was quick to his feet during curtain call, stifling cheers, and opting for loud clapping instead. Steve following suit and matching his energy.

After the show finished, Bucky hastily exited the row, his mind now back to his moment of fear now that his distraction had finished. Steve followed behind, gazing at his friend with a worry line creasing the middle of his knitted brows.

Bucky slowed his pace, turning to Steve with an untraceable expression. “What did you think?” He asked Steve, quietly hoping Steve would share the same answer.

“I loved it,” Steve said more calmly than he felt. He swore he saw Bucky’s face ease up as if he was waiting for Steve to confirm and validate his own opinion.

“Me too. I thought the direction was brilliant,” he stated earnestly but tentative.

Steve smiled, happy Bucky was open enough to state that.

“Agreed. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“They definitely didn’t have things like that during our time,” Bucky laughed gently with an exhale.

“Definitely not,” Steve responded.

Once again, the two settled into silence. Often that was how it was with Bucky. Steve longed to talk to him, to speak and engage but Bucky just wasn’t ready. Every time Bucky felt like he could speak, his Hydra built instincts took over and he refused to talk unless spoken to. Didn’t answer questions properly, rather waited for Steve to make a choice for him. Wasn’t comfortable with autonomy, or even being physically comfortable. So Bucky openly asking Steve if he enjoyed the show felt like a huge step in Steve’s mind.

After another train ride, they reached the compound, getting in the elevator and stepping out quietly as it was late. However,, Tony was in the kitchen in a tank top and pajama pants; the only light being from above the stovetop.

“Where’d you two run off to?” He spoke, his eyes not leaving the water pitcher and glass he was pouring the water into.

“We went to see a show,” Steve spoke casually, but with an undertone of accusation at the way Tony spoke. Almost as if he was challenging their outing.

“How was it?” Tony said, stopping the pour at the glass’ invisible 3/4 mark.

“Good.” Steve answered, still wary.

“Cap, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Sure,” Steve responded, stepping closer toward Tony.

“Alone,” Tony stated, giving Bucky a quick glance before turning his attention to the taller man.

Steve looked at Bucky apologetically, but knowing he had to engage in whatever Tony wanted to talk with him about, otherwise it would fester in the morning. Nobody could handle another civil war. He pictured Natasha’s face, unable to pick a side, knowing he didn’t want to put her through that again.

“Goodnight Buck,” he said with a nod and a small smile.

“Night Steve.” Bucky said slightly disappointed but not letting it show as he walked down the hall to the guest room. Steve heard his footsteps walk past his assigned room to the guest room and sighed.

“What, Tony?”

“You’re letting him just go places now?” He expressed with calm frustration.

“You’re talking about him like he’s a disease that has to be controlled.”

“He does.”

“You and him already aired your grievances, why the hell are you back to this?”

“I’m not “back to this” I’m on the fact that you’re being reckless! He’s not ready to go everywhere.”

“You still think he’s dangerous.” Steve scoffed.

“No, Steve,” Tony said, “I think you’re dangerous for putting him in situations where people might fear him or where he can get set off.”

Steve looked away, remembering Bucky’s increased heart rate during the blackout earlier. He didn’t meet Tony’s eyes.

Tony sighed, cocking his head to the side, “Something happened tonight, didn’t it?”

Steve didn’t say anything.

“This is what I’m talking about,” Tony said with a shake of his head, turning his attention back to his water and taking a swig. “You didn’t think twice before you took him somewhere where something like whatever it is, could happen.”

“I took him there to get him some normalcy. He needs to be integrated back into life to heal!”

“Can’t heal if you’re constantly in situations that’ll set you off!”

Steve sighed, palm rubbing his forehead. He knew Tony was a little right.

“Your issue, Steve, is you want to see him healed so bad you don’t care how you go about it. You’re not logical. You’re thinking with your heart instead of your head.”

Steve’s expression flickered slightly with guilt. A moment so fast Tony would’ve missed it if he wasn’t so perceptive.

Tony’s face turned quizzical, as if he was attempting to figure something out.

“What was he, to you in the forties?”

Steve puzzled, “My best friend.” He responded easily, wondering why Tony would ask such an obvious question.

“You lose all logic when it comes to him. Since I’ve known you, the stuff you do is impulsive, not calculated. You do things because you believe it’s right. Have you ever stopped to think about why you believe in the things you say are “right?’”

“Tony, I went to war. I watched people die, I wanted to fight for freedom, and you know that’s damn well why I couldn’t sign the Sokovia accords.”

“Because you don’t want anyone to control you.”

“It’s my God given right to have freedom.”

“Yeah, not when you’re endangering people’s lives.”

“We’re never going to see eye to eye on this topic.”

“We’re not. But you’re endangering Barnes with his own mind by doing things impulsively in the name of “freedom.” Every impulse comes back to him. You challenge and nearly kill me defending him. You let yourself nearly fucking die for him when he was literally about to kill you. You brought down Hydra trying to avenge him!”

“And you’re saying me bringing down Hydra was a bad thing?”

“No! I’m saying at some point this shit goes from noble to reckless and for what? You can’t think when he’s involved! Why? Is it because he died on your watch? Is it because there was a trace of you in his memory? You’re preventing him from healing by not thinking things through.”

“He deserves freedom! He’s been under control for too long, he deserves to choose!”

“Not when he can’t function properly! Steve, he needs permission to eat, doesn’t touch the bed I made for him, he’s following your lead on everything. You offer, and whether he wants it or not, he follows. You give options and guide him toward one in the hopes that it’ll make him ease up. He has to come to you. The same way he has to actually heal before going into places that are gonna make his brain short circuit with memories of fucking Russian. You say you’re giving him freedom? You want him to be free so bad you’re controlling him yourself.”

Steve stood stunned. His brain trying to process every word Tony had said. He didn’t have a response. Eventually he cleared his throat.

“He enjoyed the show. He even asked me what I thought.”

“Did he tell you what he thought before he asked you?”

“…No.”

“Because he’s hardwired to need permission to have an opinion.”

“It was a big step that he initiated the conversation first.”

“Yeah. It was. A big step followed by the same habits he hasn’t been able to break yet. You say you trust him enough to let him go out with you, but you still engage with his habits because you know he’s scared to make decisions.”

A long pause of silence.

“What was it that happened?”

Steve stood silent before answering, voice barely above a whisper.

“The lights blacked out, and he grasped my hand, tight, looking around and searching for an exit.”

“That’s soldier instinct Steve. He wasn’t ready for that.”

“I watched his eyes every moment up until that. I could see the relief on his face throughout the whole show.”

“But what could’ve happened, Steve? What if those lights were dark for a minute more?”

“You think he’d become the soldier again?!” Steve responded incredulously.

“No, he’d become fucking afraid. Panic attack in the middle of the theater. PTSD response right then and there. You’re lucky the blackout only lasts for like three minutes.”

“How do you know how long the blackout lasted?”

“Ive seen Sunset Boulevard three times.”

“You have?”

“Oh yeah. Brilliant direction. The guy who plays Joe is phenomenal.”

“He really is, his voice fits the character so well.”

“The direction enhances all the performances and makes the show even darker.”

“That’s part of why I liked it so much.”

“Exactly, but that’s not what we’re talking about right now.” Their moment was over, Steve now having to go back to the argument.

“Bucky liked it?”

“Loved it.”

“He’ll love it more when he can stomach the pitch black three minutes.” Tony responded, now cooling down.

Steve dropped his head a bit. He was eternally stubborn and hated when Tony was even a little bit right.

“Yeah.”

Tony stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Whatever it is that has you fighting so hard for Barnes, you cannot let it cloud your better judgment. I know you know how to fight your impulses. Just do better.”

Steve nodded, Tony tapping his shoulder twice, taking his glass of water and leaving.

Steve stayed frozen for a moment, contemplating every word Tony said. He knew he cared about Bucky deeply, but actually couldn’t place why the hell his better judgment and impulses fell away when he was involved. Maybe it was the residual rage and guilt from being unable to save him. Maybe it was the sadness that Bucky was being tortured all while Steve was frozen. Maybe it was something else entirely.

He sulked to the couch, flopping down. Maybe the answer would come to him with some more sleep.

Chapter Text

Steve laid off a bit after his late night conversation with Tony. He waited for Bucky to make choices, guiding only slightly. Just enough because he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere if he didn’t guide at all. Tony didn’t understand that part as well as he did. Bucky was making progress though, stating things openly like “that tastes good” without waiting to be prompted, laughing very lightly at something on TV without needing permission. Still, he didn’t ask for things. Steve tried to see for a week if he’d ask for water when Steve went to get himself some without offering any to Bucky, but Bucky just remained quiet. The only time he drank water was when he was alone, after triple checking that no one else was around to refuse him. He’d quietly pour himself a glass, drinking it like it was a shot, washed it, and put it back inside the cabinet without a trace of it ever being moved in the first place. After two days of Steve’s attempt to get Bucky to ask on his own accord, he became worried that Bucky would get dehydrated and caved into offering once again.

Bucky had began therapy at the request of Tony. Steve finally realized that he couldn’t take on Bucky himself. He wasn’t too much for Steve, never too much. But he was someone Steve wasn’t equipped with enough knowledge of trauma to help.

Therapy got off to a very slow start. He went once a week, and the sessions consisted of questions asked by Dr. Wolfe, and getting one word answers in return. She knew better than to push too hard at the beginning. That was why it was her job. She knew Bucky wouldn’t warm up immediately, so she started to turn to enticing him by asking about people he already trusted.

“Your friend, Steve, the one from childhood, you’re living with him, right?”

“Yes.”

“How’s that?”

“Good.”

“What do you guys do together?”

“We watch TV. He helps me remember things. We saw a show a while ago.”

“What show?”

“Sunset Boulevard.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Have you seen it?”

“Tell me if you enjoyed it.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“I liked the music. The actors were good. The direction was cool.”

Dr. Wolfe’s interest was piqued. When Bucky was asked about things he liked, he was able to express his opinions more. Positive discussions were the way to go.

“What else did you enjoy about it?”

“It was dark.”

“Why’d you enjoy that?”

“Because it was nice for once to see someone struggle and know I had nothing to do with it.”

And there it was. The real deep feelings she had been waiting for. After three sessions of one word answers, the code had finally been cracked on making James Barnes open up.

“The show didn’t have a happy ending either.”

“How did it end?”

“Norma Desmond killed the guy she loved because she let delusion take over her.”

“And there was nothing you could do about that outcome.”

“Nothing.”

“And how did that make you feel.”

“Relieved.”

“Why relieved?”

“Because I didn’t do anything. I just sat and watched. I didn’t hurt anybody.”

“And the outcome was still her killing the man she loved. Without you doing anything. You’re relieved because you’re not responsible for the bad things that happened.”

“Cause I’m responsible for pretty much everything else.”

“Why do you think you’re responsible?”

“Because I killed them.”

“Killed who?”

“Families. Parents. Wives. Husbands.”

“How do you fare it wasn’t Hydra? Why does it fall to you?”

“Cuz the blood was on my hands. I shot them with a gun I carried. The knives that stabbed them had my fingerprints on the handle.”

“And they were the ones controlling them, wouldn’t that put the blame on them?”

“Because they don’t carry it with them!” He spoke sharply through gritted teeth.

Dr. Wolfe stared down at her notebook and pen through her glasses.

Overly accountable

Severe PTSD- already confirmed but reinforced

Guilt complex

“Notebook again, Doc?” He spoke, gesturing vaguely to her supplies.

She smirked at him, “If I’m gonna help you, I’ve gotta write some stuff down.”

His jaw clenched and she tilted her head.

“You don’t like the fact that I’m writing something about you and you can’t see what it is.”

He made a quiet gruff noise, not really responding to her, but not really having to.

“What is it you’re scared of?”

He sat still for a moment, his big arms sprawled across the back of the couch, his Henley unbuttoned at the top, his eyes sharp yet distant.

“I wanna know what you’re writing about me.”

“Did Hydra give you any control, over anything?”

He thought to the bar of soap he’d be given to wash himself with.

“Soap.”

“Elaborate on that.”

“When they’d shower me, I could rub the soap over my own body.”

“That was the one thing?”

“Yes.”

She thought for a moment, “I think you want honesty. You want to know what people think of you. Their assumptions. But you’re scared that they’re negative. That you can’t control what they think. No one can control what anyone else thinks, but you’ve never had any control at all. You crave it.”

“I don’t deserve to have it.”

“But you want it anyway.”

“Well I’m not going to do anything about it.”

Dr. Wolfe sat forward in her chair, “You can’t control what other people think about you. However, you can control what you think of yourself. The way you carry yourself, the way you acknowledge what you’ve done is how people will see you. You paint yourself as a villain, so that might be why they see you that way.”

“You just said I can’t control other people.”

“You can’t. They control how they feel, but they have to base their opinions off of something. That something doesn’t have to be you eternally angry at yourself.”

He sat in silence, his body still unmoved.

“There are ways, you can have control. You may not think you deserve it, but I’m asking for you to try anyway.”

Bucky made a gesture that said lay it on me in a very deadpan way.

“You’re gonna say things that you’re doing and not ask for permission.”

His stomach dropped a bit, starting to hurt upon hearing the sentence.

“If you’re hungry, you’re going to order food. You’re not going to wait to tell Steve what you want, only when he states that he’s going to get himself food. You want something, you’re going to take it without permission.”

His face stayed stone, but his heart was racing and his mind was churning. His face faltered for a brief moment and Dr. Wolfe (ever the observer) smiled kindly.

“You’re scared. But you’re not going to heal if you never do anything you weren’t allowed to do.”

She leaned forward fully, making intense eye contact with him and speaking in a voice both kindly, but leaving no room for push back- full of conviction.

“Hydra is not here. Hydra does not control you anymore. Hydra is not here. You can choose for yourself.”

He breathed sharply, listening to her, watching the way she earnestly repeated herself.

“Hydra is not here. Hydra does not control you anymore. Hydra is not here. You can choose for yourself. Repeat it with me.”

“Hydra is not here,” she spoke firmly.

“Hydra is not here,” he repeated weakly.

“Hydra does not control me anymore.”

“Hydra does not control me anymore.”

“Hydra is not here.”

“Hydra is not here.”

“I can choose for myself.”

“I can choose-“ his voice faltered slightly, a tiny crack escaping from his throat. He cleared it, completely ignoring the idea of tears slipping through for the first time in a session. Dr. Wolfe smiled, watching him on the precipice of emotionally letting something out, but was patient, silent until he decided he was ready to continue.

“I can choose for myself.” He spoke, his eyes welling up ever so slightly. He refused to let them fall though.

Dr. Wolfe looked down at her notebook again, picking up her pen to write and stopping herself at the last moment.

“Do you want to know what I wrote in here? Because it’s nothing bad, James. Nothing in here gives any idea of you being a bad person.”

He nodded solemnly, looking at the notebook from across the couch. She turned it around.

Overly accountable

Severe PTSD- already confirmed but reinforced

Guilt complex

“Is there anything in here about you being a bad person?”

“No, but-“

“Just answer the question. Is there anything in here about you being a bad person?”

“No.”

“Right. I’ve been with you four times. That’s more than any of the people who have preconceived notions about you, have. It’s my job to diagnose people’s behavior, find bad people. You, James Barnes, are not bad people. Imagine how you could be viewed by people who don’t know you, if you started believing you deserve good things, and a little damn control. I’ll see you next week.”

Chapter Text

Bucky fiddled with his phone, just having figured it out. He scrolled through an online menu of a Chinese restaurant, clicking one order of dumplings and going to checkout. Steve entered the room, noticing his friend focused on the phone.

“Technology got the best of you too?” He joked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Bucky looked up at his phone, the words he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue, itching to come out. He had to be brave, take a little control, actually do what Dr. Wolfe said.

“I’m ordering food.” He spoke deadpan, not entirely even sure how to say it. It came out like a confession. His heart sped as Steve’s eyes widened at him. Steve fought off the excitement inside him, instead settling for a “Cool. What you getting?” To not overwhelm him or affect this new behavior in any way.

“Dumplings.”

“Great. Chicken? Pork?”

“Pork.”

Steve nodded, fighting his impulses to show his joy. He thought of Tony’s words: he has to come to you. Steve paused, looking at Bucky whose attention was now back to his phone, having a better understanding now of why Tony said that. Bucky did have to come to him. With just a bit of gentle guiding, Bucky was able to make strides on his own.

Steve stared at his friend, his hair falling in his face, eyes focused on the screen as he tapped it with his flesh pointer finger in an unintentionally silly manner. He studied him, noting the way he was hunched over, back muscles protruding through his thin long-sleeve shirt. He smiled a bit to himself, not too much though. He didn’t want to scare Bucky through his peripheral vision. His staring weeks ago used to be careful and watchful. He stared at him, still studying like now, noticing, gently regarding and looking away before Bucky could notice. But now? The gaze was admiration. He couldn’t help it. The ease at which he watched Bucky was a reflection of the ease inside his chest every time he saw Bucky make a stride toward healing. His heart grew warmer with every new step.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve spoke, broken out of his gaze.

“You put the credit card in with the numbers on the back, right?”

“Yep,” he said slightly dazed for no apparent reason.

Bucky nodded, taking his Tony given credit card off the glass table in front of the couch and typing in the numbers slowly. Steve watched for a very short moment before shaking his head and leaving the kitchen. Not remembering what he came in there for anyway.

Soon, a knock on the door was heard. Bucky got up from his comfy spot on the couch, walking to the door a little nervously. His feet shifted as he stood in front of the door. It rang again. He wasn’t sure what the reaction would be when he opened the door. In quick thinking, he grabbed a baseball cap off of a hook near the door and put it on, opening the door swiftly.

A young-ish man stood outside in a uniform that Bucky assumed must’ve been part of the restaurants dress code.

“Here’s your pork dumplings, sir.”

“Thank you.” Bucky spoke, taking the bag gently and closing the door as the man walked away.

Once the door was closed, Bucky let out a large sigh, leaning against it. He walked to the couch, sitting down and opening his food. He immediately dived in, devouring the dumplings like a starved animal. However, he only ordered one thing. He wasn’t too hungry. Even if he was hungry, he wouldn’t have ordered more than one thing. Baby steps for taking control, Dr. Wolfe had said. Still, he was inhaling the food at rapid speed before indigestion caught up to him and he paused, groaning. It dawned on him that he genuinely needed to eat slower. For the first time, his brain resorted to logic instead of continuing on in his habit. He took a breath, letting his stomach settle, and slowly began to continue eating. There were still a few bites inhaled rather than chewed properly, but he took a solid amount of time finishing the dumplings. Baby steps.

They were good. Like, really good. He hadn’t had that much flavor in a while. He thought of the food they gave him in Hydra, bits and pieces of whatever they didn’t want, flavorless meat and grain, and often what could truly only be described as gruel. They didn’t have great food in the forties either. You boiled chicken and potatoes, or you didn’t eat. At least in the Great Depression.

“Buck!”

“Yeah?”

“Steve’s coming over for dinner, right?” His mom called from the kitchen.

“Yeah!”

“Alright!”

It was frequent that Steve would come over for dinner. The Rogers’ and Barnes’ were practically family, and on nights when Steve’s mom was working late shifts at the hospital, Steve would join the Barnes’ for dinner. His mom was always lovely, his sister Rebecca was good company, and of course he never felt more at home than with Bucky.

A bit later, Steve knocked on the door as he always did, three gentle knocks before Bucky bounded toward the door, letting him in.

“Hey Stevie,” he spoke with a smile, one hand on the back of his neck.

“Hey,” Steve responded.

Bucky ushered him toward the kitchen where his mom was setting the table. She pulled him in for a hug.

“Steve lovely to see you again,” as she gave him a motherly peck on the cheek.

“You too Mrs. Barnes,” he smiled as he sat down at his usual seat next to Bucky. His sister and his mom coming next, the head of the table empty as Bucky’s dad was working late.

“Dig in,” Bucky’s mom said with a smile.

As Steve cut into the very, very white chicken and boiled potatoes, Bucky gave him a smirk, squeezing his knee under the table.

“I know,” he mouthed with an untraceable laugh. A silent signal that they both knew money for seasoning was tight, and that people didn’t use much of it anyway. They were happy, bland food and all.

A knock at the door happened again. Bucky turned around, wondering who else was there. He was about to get up when the door burst open, revealing a kid who couldn’t be over sixteen with a familiar voice upon hearing “Mr. Stark! Oh my gosh you won’t believe what happened today at school! I-“

Suddenly, without warning, Tony appeared in the hallway, striding down quickly to meet the teenager, incredulous look on his face.

“How many times have I said to you this key is only for emergencies?” Tony said, frustration yet affection strong in his tone.

“No, Mr. Stark! You don’t understand, they were talking about you, and talking about that new thing you’ve been building in my robotics class! We had a whole discussion on your iron man suit and they asked me if I’d seen it up close since I’m your “intern” and I said I’d seen it and they asked me lots of questions! I built a tiny model and showed them how the head whirs and stuff! And Mr. Stark, MJ looked at me and she gave me a half smile! Like one of those half smiles she does when she thinks something’s cool! She thinks I’m cool!”

Tony let him finish, arms crossed across his chest with a proper dad stance.

“That qualifies as an emergency?”

“Yes!” The boy stood out of breath, little strands of brown hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, bright and shiny smile plastered across his face. His attention turned quickly to Bucky, head snapping toward him.

“Oh! You’re the guy with the sick metal arm who I fought that day Mr. Stark called me! He’s living with you now?” The boy said at a jittery pace, directing his attention back to Tony.

“Yeah. Peter Parker, Bucky Barnes.”

“It’s nice to re-meet you Mr. Barnes. I’m really sorry about the whole web thingy. I was just doing my job, but it seems like you guys are all good now! Are you all good now?”

Tony laughed, “Yeah. We are.”

“Oh,” the Peter said, seemingly finally catching his breath. “Good.”

“Nice to re-meet you too, Peter.” Bucky smiled gently at the boy. His energy was upbeat but undoubtedly warm and welcoming. There wasn’t any negative aura that radiated off of him. He seemed like pure sunshine in a bottle. A few weeks ago, Bucky would’ve hated that, but now? Bucky liked that.

The three of them heard footsteps coming from across the hallway, and Bucky looked toward the sound and saw Steve and Natasha coming toward them. Bucky smiled at the sight, having grown to like Natasha during their brief moments. He knew that he had trained her in the red room, and they’d discussed that a bit. Not much, but enough to share mutual respect and understanding of their trauma between the two of them. She never pried, prodded, or went too far. She let him do his own thing, and he let her do hers. It was a quiet, mutual reverence the two of them had, and it was that kind of gentle relationship Bucky loved.

Natasha gave Bucky one of her usual smiles, a nod accompanying it to which Bucky did in return. Steve looked at Bucky a moment before turning his attention to the corner they were rounding.

“What’s all the noise?” He said, much like an old man complaining.

“No fights please, I’m off duty today,” Natasha quipped, looking into the fridge for a beer.

Steve stopped when he saw Peter, “Who are you?” He asked genuinely.

“Oh, uh,” Peter stuttered, “I’m Peter Parker, uh, Spider Man… Captain America,” he managed. “I’m really sorry about all that by the airport, but I was just trying to do something helpful and I kinda had to-“

“You’re from Queens, right?” Steve interrupted.

“Yes sir.”

“You’ve got heart, kid. Don’t lose it.”

“Yes Mr. Rogers.”

Steve laughed, secretly touched by all of Peter’s “sir’s” “Mr’s” and the very formal “Captain America’s.” He had a genuine heart. Steve could tell.

“Oh!” Peter suddenly remembered, “I was in robotics class with Ned, and he and I were talking with Katie and her girlfriend about how long they’ve been together when-“

“Hold on,” Steve interrupted, out of genuine confusion. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, Katie and her girlfriend Maggie were saying they’ve been dating like half a year, and for their anniversary, Maggie made Katie a replica of your dart gun, because Katie loves darts and-“

“Dating?”

Peter was far too wrapped up in his story- obviously Tony themed- to register Steve’s confusion.

“Yeah, and so after she gave her the gun-“

“I’m sorry.” Steve interrupted, genuinely apologetic. “Katie and Maggie are both girls?”

“Yeah.”

“And they’re together?”

“Yeah.”

“They can- they can do that? Now? And it’s uh?”

Peter turned toward Tony, looking to his model for an answer. Tony smirked only slightly.

“Think you’ve gotta give Capsickle a lesson on modern day.”

Peter smiled warmly, excited to be able to share how more positive things were becoming.

Natasha and Tony gave each other knowing looks and left the room. Tony shooting Peter a look that said you know where the tech room is if you need me.

“Yeah, so gay people can get married now.” Peter spoke casually once they’d left the room. Both Bucky and Steve’s mouths dropped.

“When the hell did that happen?”

“Last year actually! All fifty states. So everything’s okay now. Gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual,” he ratted on. Steve and Bucky just stared at him, having no idea what the terms meant aside from gay and lesbian.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“No,” Steve laughed sheepishly, running a hand through his hair.

“How about I explain it to you.” Peter offered.

“That’d be great,” Steve smiled lightly, confusion still mulling through his body.

Bucky shifted a bit, suddenly having the urge to pee. He stood up.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick,” he spoke, walking away before either could respond.

Peter watched him go, then turned back to Steve who was now on the couch with a shrug.

“So bisexual means you’re attracted to both genders, male and female. Pansexual is when you’re attracted to literally everyone, boy, girl, non-binary- which means someone who doesn’t feel like a guy or a girl- or anyone who identifies as anything. Asexual which means you don’t feel sexual attraction,” he spoke with complete ease despite talking to a nearly 100 year old man about words like “sex”.

“Aromantic means you don’t feel romantic attraction, and-“

“Wait, so bisexual is where you like women and men,” Steve said, trying to be definitive.

“Yes. And there’s other ones too like-“

“So you can like a guy and a girl, and that’s a thing?”

“Yeah, you can.” Peter continued, unsure why Steve was so intrigued.

“And you can like both of them at the same time, or is that not possible?”

“I mean, yeah you can. People have crushes on multiple people all the time.”

“What if you date a girl and then you break up and then date a guy?”

“I- uh, well that would be fine.”

“No one has problems with it?”

“I mean jerks are everywhere but most people here in New York are accepting. At least that I’ve seen.”

“How many people are bisexual?”

“I mean, lots of people. It’s probably the most common out of all the LGBTQ community.”

“LGBTQ?”

“Lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, queer and more.”

“And anyone can be bisexual?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like men and women can both be bisexual?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“A girl can like girls and guys, and a guy can like guys and girls?”

“Yep, pretty much.”

Peter was puzzled, really not sure why the topic of bisexuality interested him so much. Not that he minded talking about it. It was nice being able to teach a national hero something he knew nothing about.

Steve was just about to ask Peter another question when he heard the familiar sound of Bucky’s footsteps, slightly heavier sounding on his left side, coming back down the hallway. He closed his mouth and looked at him. Peter looked at Steve and then Bucky. He looked again. A strange pause in the atmosphere filling the room as Bucky came in. He glanced quickly at Steve, and then took his place back on the couch.

“All good?” Steve asked, looking at Bucky with an unmistakably soft gaze.

“Yeah, all good.” Bucky responded, meeting Steve’s gentle eyes for a moment before returning them to Peter’s.

Peter stared at the two of them a little bewildered. Wondering why Steve’s demeanor changed to become so delicate. He quickly chalked it up to being protective since Bucky was recovering from Hydra as Tony explained.

Steve looked at Peter, seemingly torn between asking more questions and changing the subject entirely.

“While I have you Peter,” Steve attempted to smoothly segue, “Can you teach me how to use The gram instant?”

“You mean Instagram?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Sure!” Peter hummed, taking Steve’s phone from his outstretched hand, pulling up Instagram.

Bucky stared at Steve while he messed around with the phone, figuring out the app as Peter guided him. The teen occasionally snuck looks at Bucky and Steve, watching them watch each other with fleeting gazes that grew more fleeting with each one. By the time Steve had uploaded a picture after all the help, Peter was a little confused. He wasn’t sure why their looks puzzled him so much. They’re close friends he thought, convincing himself as Tony and Natasha returned to the room unannounced.

“Done with the sex ed?” Tony asked, earning a slap on the forearm from Natasha.

“All done Mr. Stark,” Peter spoke cheerfully.

“Thanks for the lesson kid,” Steve nodded.

“Any time Mr. Rogers. You too Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky gave a barely perceptible smile and light nod. Peter turned his attention to Tony, need evident in his voice and in his brow.

“Mr. Stark, can I speak to you in the lab please?”

Tony wasn’t sure what Peter meant, but he saw the look on his face and nodded, walking downstairs with the teen in tow. When they got downstairs and walked into the lab, Tony immediately turned to him, parental instincts on.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, matter of factly.

“Nothings wrong, I just-“ Tony raised an eyebrow.

“Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes are friends right?”

“Yes. Childhood friends from the forties.”

“Forties,” Peter repeated under his breath, already having known the information, but only having it settle in him just then.

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. They just- never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

“No, really, I’m definitely wrong.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s really-“

“Peter, tell me.” He spoke seriously. He wasn’t sure if what Peter was going to say was even noteworthy news, but he always wanted to listen to Peter. No matter the facade of cool and casual he put up, when it came to Peter, he didn’t mess around.

“Are Mr. Rogers Mr. Barnes, like…”

“Like what?”

“Are they, like, together?…”

Tony’s face shifted to a mix of confusion and shock.

“What?”

“Are they… you know…”

“No, Peter I don’t know.”

“Do they like each other, like that?”

“I-“ Tony paused, literally never having had that thought before.

“Not that I know-“ his shoulders released, a wave of realization coming over him.

“Not that I know of.”

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed, actually pondering what Peter was talking about. He thought hard about what he was saying, Peter’s genuine curiosity on his face.

“Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know, just, we were talking, right? And Mr. Barnes went to the bathroom, and when he came back, Mr. Rogers looked at him and it was like weirdly…” he didn’t want to say the word romantic. He knew it was the right word, but he felt like he was pushing it, pushing something he didn’t even know was true or not.

“Weirdly what?”

“Like… you know.”

“Peter, I don’t know you’ve gotta say it.”

“Romantic.”

Tony leaned back slightly. Now deep in thought. Peter stared at him, waiting for him to respond. It was a long moment before Tony did. He remembered his conversation with Steve weeks ago. What was he to you? He had asked, unaware of the connotation at the time; just trying to get through to Steve. However, now that he truly thought about it, Peter didn’t seem completely insane. There was almost a tiny bit of logic behind his words. But no. Although logical, it wasn’t true.

“I never even thought of that.”

“Yeah, I’m probably wrong, I don’t even know why I-“

“Kid,” Tony interrupted with a calming hand. “You’re astute. I’m sure what you saw made sense.” He spoke, no trace of disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah,” Peter spoke, a little calmer.

“You know what, I’ll see.”

“What?”

“I’ll see if you’re onto anything.”

“Really, Mr. Stark?” He said excitedly. Peter was introverted, hyper, but also hyper-aware. His senses were heightened when he became Spider-Man, but he was a smart observer even before. Having only two truly close friends (and one he had a crush on) allowed him to be the kind of person who notices things. He was kindly nosy, being kept out of the loop on things, but detecting things others didn’t pick up on.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll keep on it for you.”

Peter stepped forward and embraced Tony in a strong hug around the waist, the kind of hug a kid would give their parent. It wasn’t a deep thing, being curious about Bucky and Steve, but there was something indisputable about the affection Tony was bestowing on Peter by just doing a simple favor for him, just because he knew it would make him happy.

“Thank you Mr. Stark,” he smiled into his lower stomach.

Tony’s eyes looked down at the boy, an imperceptible look on his face. A trace of rare tenderness present within his eyes and ever so slowly broadening across his face.

“You’re welcome kid.”

Chapter Text

Tony kept through on his promise to subtly notice things for Peter. He kept his attention on the two, partially making sure Steve kept on letting Bucky come to him, partially putting his nose in when the two weren’t noticing.

Soon enough, Natasha caught onto Tony’s behavior. He thought he was being slick, but being a former assassin trained for years to be hyper aware of things at all times, nothing got past her.

“What the hell are you doing?” She said quietly from behind him, causing him to choke slightly on the water he was sipping.

“Drinking water.”

“You’re just standing here while Steve is trying to jog Bucky’s memory do you think this is helping?”

“Sure, I have a welcoming and gentle presence,” he spoke deadpan, earning a scoff from Natasha.

“This is odd and out of character of you.”

“I just- I promised Peter I’d do something for him, okay?” He spoke brushing her off with a gentle flick of his hand.

She gave a gentle “hm,” turning toward Bucky and Steve as well.

“What are you even trying to notice?”

“None of your business.”

“Secret intel?”

“I’m not telling,” he spoke almost like a petulant child.

“Alright,” Natasha conceded.

After that day, Natasha slowly started to pick up on Tony’s reasoning. She started to watch what it was he was looking for. Eventually, Tony and Natasha had a quiet unspoken understanding that she knew what he was doing, and she was engaging too. She was right that it was out of character for Tony, but usually caring about the whereabouts of other peoples’ business, but he was doing it for Peter. However, it was out of character for Natasha as well. She was good at noticing, but something like this just didn’t need to be a use of her time. However, the more she noticed how Tony reacted, the more she saw the behavior he was reacting to.

“You tell Peter anything?”

“Yeah, the little stuff.” The little stuff like the swift brushes of hands, hands on chest when bumping into each other, looking at each other in between laughs. Nothing concrete. Nothing to say that they weren’t just two close friends with shared love for one another.

Steve was oblivious to what Tony and Natasha were doing, Bucky however noticed their behavior. He didn’t confront anyone, not confident enough to do that, but he noted it. He wasn’t sure what they were doing. Then it hit him. They must’ve been checking to see if Bucky would snap again. Even after months, they didn’t trust him to stay sane. They thought he would be a danger. His heart sunk. Having opened up more in therapy, he decided to talk about it with Dr. Wolfe.

“They don’t trust me. They watch me and Steve all the time. Whenever he’s near me, I see them out of the corner of my eye just watching us.”

“And they never just watch you, they only watch when Steve is around?”

“Only when Steve is around. It’s like they’re afraid I’m going to hurt him.”

“Are you also afraid you’re going to hurt Steve?”

“Sometimes. I already did. He nearly died. But I’d never hurt him. Not now. Not intentionally. But that’s the problem isn’t it? That it wouldn’t be intentional, but it would still happen.”

“Do you think maybe that’s what they fear as well?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you spend time with either of them?”

“Not much with Tony. But Nat? Yeah, sometimes. But when we hang out she acts like she doesn’t know about all the… you know.” He trailed off, not finishing his sentence.

Dr. Wolfe leaned forward in her chair, “What’s Nat like?”

“She’s funny. Dry sense of humor. She’s easy to confide in. Good listener. She’s secretive though.”

“She keeps you at arms length?”

“Not really, she just, she’s mysterious. That’s a better word. She can tell you a lot of things and you still feel like you’ll never know her.”

“Does she tell you anything?”

“Yeah she does. She tells me stories about the red room and how we knew each other.”

“It seems like she values your company.”

“Yeah she does. I can’t blame her for being afraid for Steve or anyone else. She was a trained assassin so she knows that I could be set off at any moment.”

“Do you think it would be worth talking with her about that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You won’t know unless you try.”

And so he did. He cornered Natasha when he came back to the compound, more nervous than he wanted to admit. He found her and n the training room, not wanting to disrupt her in the middle of her practice, instead waiting outside of the glass doors off to the side until she stopped.

“Hey Bucky.” She spoke, doing a post-training stretch, her hair in a ponytail with some strands clinging to her forehead.

Of course she saw him. Why wouldn’t she? Trained assassin things.

“Hey. Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You didn’t, what’s up?” She turned to him, completely oblivious to his reasoning for the cornering. She looked completely open, nothing suspicious, nothing to hide.

“I- um… can I ask you something?

She gestured for him to step inside and he did in one large stride.

“Hit me.”

“Did Steve tell you what happened the night we saw Sunset Boulevard?”

She tilted her head to the side, “Hm?”

“The night I panicked during the show when the lights went out.”

“You two saw Sunset Boulevard?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s the one where that woman kills the guy who had his car stolen or something?”

“Or something, yeah. Hold on, Steve didn’t tell you about it?”

“No… was it like really really good? Why would he have told me about it?”

“Because I- you and Tony have been watching Steve really closely when we’re together. Maybe he mentioned the… moment I had when the lights went out and it scared him… what I might be capable of…”

“So you’ve caught onto our whole staring thing, huh?” She spoke easily, casually joking that their ruse was snuffed.

“Yeah.”

“Um, it’s not a trust thing. I promise. Steve’s no scared of you. Nothing about anything he’s said has ever given me any impression that he’s scared of you.”

“I’m sorry, then why are you just watching us like hawks? Tony seemed upset that night, was it because of me?”

“I guarantee you that Tony is not upset at you.”

He gulped and nodded, slightly confused, his brows furrowing in thought.

“So…?”

Natasha sighed and smiled, “I’m sorry. We um, I should be better at snooping. I was trained better.”

“We both were,” he gave a small smile, attempting to quip.

“I’ll, I’m sorry if we’re making you uncomfortable. It’s not that we don’t trust you. Promise.” And with that, she left the training room. Bucky was left alone, relieved a bit that Natasha had so truthfully stated that he hadn’t scared Steve or made him or the others feel in need of giving him protection. Still, he didn’t have an answer as to why the two were watching them so closely. It was just very odd, and without a concrete answer, the wondering left a hole in his stomach, bubbling up like lava. But he really, really didn’t need it to explode any time soon.

When he went to Dr. Wolfe next, he explained that Natasha and Tony were not in fact protecting Steve.

“Doesn’t it feel nice to have talked to her and gotten that worry of your chest? See how successful things go when you communicate?”

“But she didn’t tell me why they’re watching us.”

“Is that something you could ask about?”

“After I just asked her about something else? No, no. I can’t do that. She could’ve told me the first time but she didn’t.”

Dr. Wolfe sat back in her chair, contending.

“You said she seemed extremely earnest when she told you she and Tony weren’t worried.”

“Yeah. She made it clear she trusts me.”

“Then is there anything you and Steve do that’s particularly noteworthy? Maybe you guys just have interesting quirks and habits not needing to be mentioned that the two noticed.”

“Then why wouldn’t she just say that right then and there?”

“Maybe because it might be awkward for her to explain how she’s regarding you and Steve. She’s also dealt with quite a lot of repression of her feelings. She doesn’t let people get too close, you’ve said.”

“Yes that’s true.”

“Maybe she felt awkward talking about noticing you and Steve’s connection. Maybe she’s just enjoying seeing someone live through a connection she doesn’t really have.”

“She has Clint though. She’s close with him.”

“That’s very true. But, you and Steve lived through the same timeline, you both missed out on your planned lives, you both are veterans. Clint and Natasha may be close, but there are things he will never understand about her life. The same with Steve, but in your case, you have somebody who gets it just because you’re in a similar situation. Perhaps she’s just marveling at that connection.”

“I don’t even know what she’d be “marveling” at. We don’t do anything specific. He just helps me remember things. We just talk.”

“What if that’s just all she needs to enjoy what you two have?”

He scoffed a laugh, “Doc you make it sound like Natasha thinks we’re dating or something.”

Dr. Wolfe laughed, “I think you’re overthinking this, James. You don’t need to worry about why she’s watching you two if it’s not for the reason you thought. Whatever the reason, the way you’re perceiving it, is that it’s harmless. If it starts making you uncomfortable, that’s another story. But your worrying about something that seems to be innocent, is. It’s not something you need to overthink.”

He thought over what Dr. Wolfe had said during his nightly memory jogging session with Steve. Natasha had backed off slightly, but when she came in to refill her water, she’d take her sweet time; stealing glances at Steve and Bucky whilst he showed him pictures and things, and explained moments captured in memory.

“How ‘bout this one?” Steve said as he held up an army uniform patch with wide hopeful eyes.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky laughed with a breath, “I showed that to you and your mom first day I got it.”

“She was so happy for you.”

“Yeah, I was happy she was too.”

“Her second son leaving for battle wasn’t ideal for her, but she was so proud you’d be serving the country. Even if you didn’t volunteer.”

“As much as she tried to make you see reason and not rush off to war. A lost cause.” He smirked.

“She never stood a chance.”

“Not with your stubborn ass.”

Natasha’s eyes darted between the two of them, narrowing as she did so. Bucky noticed, but didn’t acknowledge. Steve’s back was facing hers from where his position was on the couch. Steve threw his head back gently in a laugh, and Natasha gave a slight smile, almost a smirk. She looked at Bucky only, for a split second, shooting him that same look, and exited the room.

“Buck? Buck? You alright?”

He stated and watched her go before snapping his attention back to Steve. “Yeah, yeah sorry.”

“No I’m sorry, am I overwhelming you? Your mind seems somewhere else.”

“No, no you’re not. Sorry. I’m just… distracted.”

“We can stop for the night.”

“No, no. I- okay.”

Steve reached out and rubbed Bucky’s shoulder, “Buck, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Steve knew he was lying, but he knew better than to press a matter. Bucky was still growing to share his own feelings. He couldn’t rush it, no matter how badly he wanted to see his friend happier.

“Okay. Remember, if you need anything, I’m down the hall.”

“Okay. Good night Steve.”

“Goodnight Bucky.”

And with that, Steve walked down the hall and turned right, allowing himself one last quick glance to Bucky.

Bucky sighed after he was gone, partly relief that he was alone with his thoughts (less torturous ones this time), partly slightly sad because he made Steve leave. He hated making Steve leave, especially after he was away from him for so long. He always noticed the barely perceptible sadness that traced through his eyes when Bucky needed to stop the memory jogging for the night. Noticed his blue eyes dim in light ever so slightly when Bucky didn’t know the answer to something he once knew like the back of his hand. He saw the way Steve flicked his pointer finger on his thumb when he was deep in thought on how to help Bucky remember things. He also noticed that he’d do the action even harder when he was frustrated. Like he was mad at himself for not being able to do more. But it wasn’t his fault. It also wasn’t his fault Bucky just needed to be alone sometimes. He wanted to keep Steve with him, but sometimes his brain found itself wandering to the nights of “Hail Hydra” and good memories just slipping his mind. He couldn’t handle having Steve there for that.

He did his usual routine of lying on the floor and taking a blanket from the arm of it. As he rest his head on the carpet below, his mind repeated: “Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Chapter Text

It was around 3 in the morning when the nightmare started. His nightmares were getting less frequent, but they still came. However, he hadn’t had one in a while that was this bad.

“Soldat. You will eliminate the Sorokova family.”

They were two parents, Andrei and Tatyana who were fighting against Hydra which was uncommon for Russians to do at the time. They had two daughters, Oksana and Ekaterina. Eight and seven. They had nothing to do with the operation their parents were working on.

Alexander described them and showed him pictures, the Winter Soldier stone faced.

“St. Petersburg, there is a base where they plan. Near their daughter’s school which is protected by guards. Your mission: eliminate the guards, the children, and once the protection is down, eliminate the parents.”

He watched from third person as he nodded in compliance.

“No, no, they’re just kids.” He spoke, his chest lightly jolting while still asleep.

The dream suddenly shifted to the school where the two children resided.

The soldier pointed his rifles at the two guards, shooting immediately without hesitation. His eyes were ice cold, pushing through the school doors immediately.

He stalked the hallways, stealthily, silently, searching for the girls’ classroom. He found them quickly.

“No, please, don’t do it.”

The soldier kicked down the classroom door and was face to face with Ekaterina first. Seven, small frame, light golden hair and gentle light blue eyes. The teacher screamed in Russian for the kids to escape through the window. She ran to Ekaterina, putting distance between the cold-eyed soldier and the small girl. However, the soldier immediately disregarded. He shot the teacher without a second thought.

“No, no!”

He pointed the rifle down at the girl, her eyes terrified and shaken.

“Please, don’t hurt me.”

The soldier ignored. He shot her twice.

Bucky didn’t even have enough time to live through the rest of the memory. He didn’t even get to Oksana or the parents. The memory of the bullet hitting the little girl was enough to make him wake up, cold sweat all over his body, his breath ragged, shoulders heaving up and down. He let out a pained scream, tears filling his eyes.

Steve, who had come out of his room for his usual nightly work out stopped in his tracks when he saw Bucky’s shoulders hunched and erratic breathing showcasing his defined back muscles. They expanded and collapsed as Bucky’s head dropped forward, his eyes aiming at the floor. 

“Bucky?” Steve rushed to his friend’s side, placing a hand on the back of the place where his shoulder met his arm.

Bucky didn’t respond, unable to catch his breath. His voice came out in hoarse exhales, “She, she- I’m sorry.”

“Bucky, what?”

“Ekaterina, I-“

“Who? Bucky, breathe, who?”

“She was just a little girl,” he choked out, eyes welling up and closing as the tears fell.

“I- I can’t, breathe.”

Steve turned to face Bucky, analyzing his face, going from feature to feature at lightning speed as if memorizing the detailing on his face would somehow calm his mind.

He put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and his eyes bore into his.

“It wasn’t you. It wasn’t you.”

“No, no it was. It was. I’m-“

“Hydra doesn’t control you anymore. You’re in here, with me.”

Those words sounded familiar, his mind traced back to Dr. Wolfe.

“Hydra is not here. Hydra does not control you anymore. Hydra is not here. You can choose for yourself.”

“Hydra is not here,” he managed, meeting Steve’s gaze intently, as if he looked away his breathing would give out.

“Hydra does not control me anymore.”

“That’s right, Buck. That’s right.”

“Hydra is not here.”

“Mmhm” he took Bucky’s flesh hand and squeezed it.

“I can choose for myself.”

He finally exhaled properly, a deep release. His shoulders relaxed, his chest heaving slowed, and he leaned back in his hands letting his breathing slow.

“There you are,” Steve said, brow furrowed. His mind was still worried, but his heart released when he saw Bucky calm down.

“Sorry,” Bucky said immediately. “I wasn’t trying to wake you up.”

“You didn’t wake me up,” Steve spoke, a little more intensely than he meant to, heartbroken that waking him up was Bucky’s first worry. “I was going to work out.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. I was… I couldn’t sleep either.”

Bucky nodded like he understood, but averted his gaze. Steve didn’t know where to go from there so he offered the closest thing to friendly affection he could.

“Do you want to work out with me?”

Bucky thought over it for a moment, but only as a formality. He knew he wouldn’t say yes. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to, he just… his breathing just returned to normal. He wasn’t sure he was ready to elevate it again.

“Enough adrenaline for tonight?” Steve chuckled weakly.

“Yeah,” Bucky added in reply.

Steve wanted to ask Bucky if he wanted him to stay, but fought against it.

“I’ll be in the gym. Alert Jarvis if you need me. Okay?”

Bucky nodded in reply, not saying anything else. Steve took that nod as his cue to get up ever so slowly and leave the room, footsteps light as air.

He entered the elevator, speaking softly to Jarvis as to not disturb Bucky in any way. He leaned back against the elevator wall and sighed to himself. When the elevator came to a stop, he exited quietly and made a beeline for the training room.

He opened the door and just stood there facing his usual punching bag. He stared at it like it would somehow have all the answers to every question he’d ever wanted to ask. He stepped forward, getting in fighting stance and threw a first punch. It was weak. It was small, the bag- very heavy to withstand Steve’s immaculate strength barely moved. He sighed frustratedly at the bag, punching it again only with a little more force. It still barely budged. He shook out his hands, realizing how undeniably and uncharacteristically gentle and weak they felt. It almost seemed like all his strength just disappeared and in its wake left floppy boneless-like hands.

Steve stared down before taking his right hand and rubbing it against his forehead.

“What the hell?” He spoke to himself, clenching his jaw and stepping back to the punching bag. He swung… and missed. He missed the bag entirely. How? He didn’t know. Steve Rogers didn’t miss punches. He stepped back, confusion and shock pouring over his face. He didn’t know what to do. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes and willed himself to regain his strength. However, when he closed his eyes all he saw was Bucky. He saw his terrified face, hunched shoulders, heaving chest, and shaking hands. Fuck, he was losing his logic. Tony had been spot on. Steve literally could not focus on the simple task at hand because his mind inadvertently went to Bucky. Even when he wasn’t focused on him, the soldier was embedded into Steve’s mind regardless.

He left the training room without another word. He very nearly stormed into the elevator, instructing Jarvis as kindly as he could with his frazzled state.

Once out, he kept the same pace as he walked back to his room. He passed Bucky on the floor and stopped. His breathing was at ease, mouth ever so slightly open, but his face and body were anything but at ease. He slept rigid, straight on his side, metal arm under him. The rest of his body was straight as a line, save for his top knee which was bent just slightly. His face was tense, his brow furrowed so deep Steve was sure it would leave a crease in his forehead.

He frowned at the sight. His friend who once slept taking over the whole bed, sprawled out, mouth open with gentle snores and a relaxed face had done a complete one eighty. Even in sleep, he didn’t trust himself to relax.

He examined his face for a moment and that’s when he noticed it.

A knife. Curled tightly in his fist. Steve’s heart dropped into his stomach. Bucky carried a knife in case someone had to take him out if he turned into the Winter Soldier again. His stomach turned at the thought. But, he knew he couldn’t remove the knife from Bucky’s grip. It would either wake him up, or would throw him off when he woke up without it. Sighing, he settled for kneeling down next to him, and gently smoothing out his creased brow.

He stayed down for a moment, just watching Bucky. Just watching. The soft plush of his lips, his deep and straight hair pooling around the floor, his eyes that looked sad even when closed. Just his eyelids looked sad, like there was something deep and unimaginable held inside the blue pools they covered.

He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to leave his side. He debated for a brief moment falling asleep next to him but fought off the thought. He didn’t know why it felt awkward now even as they’d done it many times in the forties. It was different now. Bucky’s body wouldn’t just sprawl over Steve’s like it used to; his body wouldn’t be comfortable doing that. He’d lie stiff. Instead of placing a calming hand on Steve’s shoulder when he woke with a nightmare, calling softly “you’re okay Stevie. You’re okay,” Steve would be holding his shaking body, trying to slow the heart rate inflicted from trauma he’d never understand.

His jaw twitched as he resigned to leaving him alone. He stood, stared down for one more long moment and left.

Chapter Text

It was a few weeks later when Peter came over again. Much like last time, he burst through the door, shouting “Mr. Stark!” At the top of his lungs. However, this time, he rang the doorbell first.

Bucky stood up, opening the door, hoping for his now routine Chinese takeout, but was instead met by the overeager fifteen year old with a giddy expression, only widening when he saw Bucky’s face.

“Hi Mr. Barnes! Is Mr. Stark home?”

Tony appeared out of nowhere once again upon hearing Peter’s voice.

“I have a tracker that knows when you’re coming over here.”

“You’re helping me with my assignment for my robotics class today, right?”

“Yep. Get down to the lab.”

“Okay!” Peter said with a light crack of excitement in his voice. “Nice to see you again Mr. Barnes! Can you tell Mr. Rogers I say hello?”

“Will do.”

Peter smiled over his shoulder and ran up to Tony who was paces ahead of him, ranting excitedly about something Bucky couldn’t hear.

“Ned is gonna freak when he hears I’m designing a robot with Tony Stark!”

“Does he not know you’re my “intern?”

“He does. He just still gets excited about it.”

Tony scoffed a laugh, “Jeez kid. Always somethin’.” He said with genuine and deep affection.

“So uh…” Peter said, looking ahead as he walked, not meeting Tony’s gaze.

Tony turned to look at him expectantly, “‘Uh’ what?”

“Did you… find out anything?”

Tony looked down, “You know, I’m an important scientist, Iron Man, I’m busy.”

Peter’s smile faltered, but not with disappointment, just changing to a calmer expression.

“I know I know, and I really appreciate you checking in for me Mr. Stark I really do!”

Tony was genuinely happy to do it. As much as he quipped and put up his fence, saying he was busy and Iron Man and all of that, he found time to snoop for Peter. He just hadn’t found anything abundantly incriminating yet.

“I’ve got nothin’ on ‘em. Just long gazes. Barnes just stares sometimes. Kinda his habit. Cap too though. But they’re less… intense.”

Peter’s smile faltered genuinely this time, “Oh, okay.”

Tony looked over, sending a small smile the boy’s way, “I’m looking though.”

And that was how Bucky wound up in his therapy session a few days later, lamenting about the vagueness of that overheard conversation.

“So, you heard them while you were just… standing in the hallway while they went to the lab?”

“In my defense, the kid is very loud.”

“Were you really just watching them go, or were you hoping to hear something?”

“I don’t know. Tony likes that kid a lot, I was hoping maybe he’d tell him something, but no, the kid put him up to it! He was the one asking if he got anything on us. Whatever that means.”

“Was there anything they said that might give you a clue as to what they meant?”

“I heard something about long gazes. Apparently I like to stare.” He said, his eyes boring into Dr. Wolfe’s.

She couldn’t help but laugh, having noticed that Bucky did in fact stare. A lot.

“I have seen you stare, James.”

“I notice things better when I concentrate.”

“Like what?”

“People. The shit they do. They used to make me kill. Just kill. If I had to hurt someone and killed someone else in the process it didn’t matter. It wasn’t conscious. I never looked long enough. Just shot, killed, hailed hy- and left.”

“So why do you stare now?”

“So I don’t have to be unconscious anymore.”

“You notice things so then you get to choose the decisions you make, or at least have a moment to decide what those are.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you enjoy it? The watching?”

“Yeah.”

“Was there ever a time you stared as The Winter Soldier?”

“Once.”

“When was it?”

“It was when I saw Steve. He kept repeating that he knew me. That my name was James Buchanan Barnes. He looked at me while I was about to kill him. His eyes were so tired. So… so much blood.”

“Why did you stare at him in that moment?”

“It felt like he was begging. Even if he was dying and okay with me killing him. One glance, and I saw he was desperate. So I looked at him a little longer. And I saw him. Just for a second. Like I had before they wiped me.”

Dr. Wolfe sat in silence for a moment, letting Bucky finish if he needed to. Just letting the moment process.

“You’re staring Doc,” he laughed dryly, noting the irony.

“What are some things you’ve noticed yourself staring at?”

“The TV sometimes. When I’m alone I’ll go back and rewind things and just pause so I can look at all the details.”

“What shows or movies have you seen recently?”

“Been trying to catch up on the things I missed. Disney movies. Turns out they made another one after Snow White. Cinderella. I rewound that one. The part where she meets him in the ball. Her dress looks different from the scene before. More blue.”

Dr. Wolfe perked up, genuinely not having known that information.

“How’d you notice that?” She said, candidly, out of therapist mode.

“When she’s in the carriage her dress looks silver. I rewound that one too.”

She hummed, “I’ll have to look for that next time I watch it. What else do you notice?”

“Steve. I watch him sometimes. I can see the curves in his fists when he’s upset. His face gets all hard, and his knuckles go white. He used to do that when we were kids too. Someone made him mad, he’d clench his fists and prepare for a fight. Always had to save his ass,” he chuckled.

Dr. Wolfe had meant movies. But she decided to press on about this topic.

“What else does he do?”

“Sometimes he looks at me too. Even when I don’t stare straight. I can see him out of the corner of my eye. He just watches me, weird look on his face. He’s trying to read me I think. He can’t read me though.”

“You’ve mentioned before that when you guys were kids you could always read him, though.”

“Yeah. Stevie always wore his emotions on his sleeve. Hasn’t changed much. It’s just a little quieter now. He’s all grown up Captain America.”

His jaw twitched a bit and Dr. Wolfe registered.

“How did you feel when Steve became Captain America?”

“I was proud of him. Always hoped that little fighter would do something worthwhile with all that passion.”

“So why do you look so angry?”

The words cut him like a knife. He didn’t even notice his face, but it was always perpetually angry even when he didn’t mean to look like that. The anger was somewhere inside him.

“Winter Soldier. Habit.”

“I don’t think it’s that.”

“Then what the hell do you think it is, Doc?”

“I think you’re mad that you didn’t get to have what Steve had. I think you feel like you don’t deserve to and you’re mad at yourself for wanting it anyway. You’ve got a lot of guilt for wanting things, James. It’s okay to want things. It’s okay to be mad that you didn’t get them.”

“It’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“I realize the game you’re playing, Doc.”

“The game where we play back and forth like children?”

“That one.”

“How about you listen? Or maybe since you’re so good at it, you can stare at me and realize I’m dead serious.”

He did just that. He stared. He watched her face, watched her serious expression laced with care. Her glasses that were thin, making it easy to see her kind blue eyes gazing back at him. The slight wrinkles on her forehead that showed how long she’d been doing this.

She was sincere.

“Am I telling the truth, Barnes?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe me?”

“No.”

“Truth is relative.”

“Yeah.”

“So you have to make the active choice to believe in my truth. If you don’t, you’re not going to be the man you desperately want to be.”

“I don’t deserve to be anything more than I am.”

“Yes you do. As much as you believe you don’t. And you want it. What did I say about wanting something?”

“Take it.”

“You have the control now. You choose what you do, you choose what you want. Talk to Steve. Tell him how you feel. You’ve been holding in all these feelings, meanwhile Steve gets ecstatic when you order food by yourself. He celebrates your baby steps that even you barely celebrate. I think he’ll absolutely treasure the fact that you’ll open up to him.”

When Bucky got home, it was nearing nighttime. It was around eight PM, and everyone had gone to bed, save for Thor who was pouring himself a giant glass of Asgardian Mead he had brought from his last trip. Bucky sat on the couch and waited for him to leave. He knew Steve would be by as he always was. Even on nights when he wouldn’t be helping, he always checked in on Bucky before he went to bed.

Sure enough, after Thor had boomed out of the kitchen, Steve appeared. His arms were crossed and he leaned on the wall next to the kitchen with one ankle crossed over the other.

“How was it?” Steve asked, trying to not pry.

“Good. Um…” he swallowed, not sure how to even bring up the conversation. “Dr. Wolfe was talking today, and she said I should talk to you.”

Steve nearly jumped to the couch, but calmly walked over instead and sat down gingerly next to Bucky.

“Okay.”

Bucky looked away, not liking to meet Steve’s eyes when he was being open.

“When you became Captain America… I was… I was really happy for you.”

Steve’s heart pounded as he waited for the next sentence.

“But now… I’m sad.”

He paused too long and Steve panicked for a moment, wondering what he had done. However, he didn’t have much time to panic because Bucky had worked up the courage to continue.

“Because I wanted to be that too. I wanted to be a fighter for something good. Maybe get a little glory. But I didn’t. And I can’t. And I can’t deserve it.”

Steve felt his heart drop to his foot. He sat there, face trying not to show how awful he felt.

“Bucky- Bucky you do deserve it. Why do you say that?”

“Because I hurt so many people. I’m not… I’m not save-able, Steve. I want what you have, and I don’t deserve to have it.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He did the only thing he could think of. Something he hadn’t done with Bucky in a while. He reached forward and pulled him into a hug. His arms wrapped around Bucky’s mid-area, hands tracing to his upper back. Bucky didn’t melt into the touch. But he didn’t move either. Steve exhaled deeply into his neck with a comforting sigh. Bucky was holding his breath, the sensation of Steve’s arms oddly foreign. But he liked it. In fact, he realized it was the first thing that had felt truly real since he’d got here.

Chapter Text

The tower was rarely empty. All the avengers went and did their own things, but Bucky was always there, playing Rapunzel until further notice. Recently, he had taken up going to the spacious balcony. He’d go and stay there for what felt like hours to Steve. He never knew what Bucky did out there, maybe just watched the city below, rested to the sounds of it, or took in the fresh air.

When Bucky was outside, Steve would take that time for himself. Usually catching up on something in the modern world that he hadn’t figured out yet.

His mind flashed to that day when he and Peter discussed sexualities. He was both shocked and relieved that people could be so open in modern day. What eluded him however, was the casualness in which Peter spoke about it. Had being sick become more acceptable? Being a man and liking men was a disease after all. Liking men and women? That idea was in the most literal sense of the word, unbelievable.

Every lingering touch Bucky had given him back in their days that made feel a way he couldn’t express was just confusion. He was starved for attention and any girl to find him attractive. Bucky cared for him and cleaned his wounds. Of course his warped brain would process that as something it wasn’t. There were many things wrong with Steve Rogers. His asthma, his height, his weight, many, many things. Things that got solved when he had gotten the serum. The serum would’ve  solved whatever sickness he may have had. He had liked Peggy, that was true. He knew that for a fact. He liked her and only her. But then what were those feelings that Bucky had made him feel?

Silly feelings before the war. Before he found his true love.

But it didn’t end when he met Peggy.

Bucky would still be there. Boyish smirk tantalizing his dreams while the battlefield rang around him.

No. The serum fixed him. He only just remembered these implausible feelings. Even if the existed- which they didn’t- they would’ve been solved by the serum. It would’ve made him better.

However, the more he thought about it, the more articles he read, the more searching he did, he couldn’t find any information on sexuality and super serum.

Even after the serum, Steve felt it in his chest when he looked at Bucky. That feeling he never registered was there. He felt it when he rescued him from Hydra. He felt it when Bucky told him that he’d be following that guy from Brooklyn who could never run away from a fight. It hadn’t even hit him till now.

He’d felt it every time.

But it was fine now. Maybe the serum didn’t fix him, but other people seemed to be content with the…sickness. And it didn’t even matter because he didn’t like Bucky now. He was taking care of him, he was being a good friend, and that was all it was-

“Steve?”

“Yes?” His head shot up immediately, computer closing.

“I, um, I’m going to order some food. Do you want anything?”

“I’m alright,” he smiled, stomach flipping slightly at the tenderness in Bucky’s words.

“Alright then.” Bucky nodded once, turned on his heel and left the room.

Fuck.

There it was again. That suddenly remembered feeling.

The it he couldn’t quitequiet place.

He picked up his phone and called Peter. Peter had given him his number for any other technological questions, but he hadn’t used it yet. Now was looking like the right time. Peter picked up immediately.

“Mr. Rogers! Hey! I- I wasn’t expecting you to call, what can I do, uh, for you?”

“They didn’t cure it?”

“Cure what?”

“The disease.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

“People are just… okay now?”

“I- uh?”

“Gay people. When you talked last time you were saying it so… openly. Like they weren’t sick. Is it- is the sickness just, normal now?”

Peter sounded almost offended, “Mr. Rogers being gay isn’t a disease.”

“It’s- it’s not?”

“No. It’s not.”

“They- they said people were sick. When I- when I got the serum I just figured it didn’t target that kind of sickness… the one in the mind.”

“Mr. Rogers, are you…?”

“I- I don’t know, Peter.”

“Oh God, Mr. Rogers-“

Steve hung up.

He stood for a moment, phone in hand by his side, mouth agape slightly staring ahead into the now dark sky seen through the giant avengers tower windows. He tried to process it all, his brain getting caught in the wires of every detail. He wasn’t sick. He couldn’t believe it. And all those people- all the ones who were silent like mice, hiding in alleyways, sneaking to secluded areas, talking in code- they weren’t sick either.

It was all so much to process. He had only minutes ago come to terms with the fact that he was sick, just to be told that his feelings weren’t a sickness. There was good news at least: what Steve Rogers had once believed was sickness was actually perfectly normal.

Bad news: he was fucking in love with James Bucky Barnes.

Chapter Text

The days after, Steve functioned like a robot doused in water. He could barely exist around Bucky, excusing himself from the room when Bucky looked at him too long, shortening their usual memory jogging sessions, and oddly and actively avoiding him. Because Bucky was normally in the living room on the couch, Steve would settle for for drinking tap water instead of making his way to the kitchen area by the living room. The memory jogging sessions were shorter and shorter by the day, and consisted not of personal memories, but general things to remember. Bucky caught on almost immediately, but didn’t say anything. Well at least not to Steve.

“He’s avoiding me.”

Dr. Wolfe sat up in her chair and leaned forward, “Why do you say that?”

“Cause he is.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“When he sees me, he looks awkward for a second and leaves. We don’t talk about personal memories anymore, just general things like “what happened on this historic day?” Or “do you remember what happened the day you were drafted?” All of these vague things. It’s like I’ve scared him off.”

“I doubt you’ve scared him off.”

“Well all signs point to that. Maybe he’s finally given up on me.”

“Mr. “I can do this all day” has “finally” given up on you? I don’t think so.”

“What the hell else is it, then?”

“Maybe you’d know if you’d… talk! To him.”

Dr. Wolfe and Bucky had grown into a more comfortable relationship. Now that Bucky was more open, she was able to treat him with a level of candidness that she’d use on anyone. Bucky needed to feel normal.

“What would I even say? “Hey Steve, are we okay? You’ve been avoiding me like that girl I set you up with back in ‘39’.’”

“What’s so wrong with that?”

He sighed, rubbing his hand to his forehead crease.

“I can’t just- I can’t just say it like that.”

“Why not? Steve is your best friend. He’d probably love the fact that you’d be open enough to speak to him like that.”

“Fine.”

Her eyes shot up to her forehead, “You’re not gonna argue with me on that?”

“I think we’re past that, Doc.”

She smirked proudly.

When Bucky got home, he decided to do what he had done with Nat before and just talk to him.

As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, he saw Steve in the kitchen. Steve quickly grabbed the barely full cup of water and turned on his heel to leave, shouting a quick “Hey Bucky!” As he left to keep his awkwardness at bay.

“Hey Steve?” Bucky said in a tone so questioning, so sad but covering it with bravery, that Steve immediately felt his chest pang with guilt. He turned around to look at Bucky.

“Yeah?”

“Can I um- can I talk to you for a moment?”

Fuck.

“Sure.”

He was so done for.

Bucky motioned to the couch and Steve sat down tentatively. Bucky sat next to him, feigning comfortability, but the nervousness of the impending conversation weighed on him like a boulder slumping over his shoulders.

“I um,” he swallowed, averting eye contact until he just spilled. “Are you upset with me?”

Dammit. He’d caught on.

Steve’s features shot up, he knew he’d been avoiding him, but he was a far cry from upset. The real reason was so much worse.

“No, no im not upset at all, why would you think that?”

“You’ve been avoiding me. I- I don’t know if I scared you. I’m sorry if I did.”

“Buck, you didn’t scare me, I’m not upset.”

“Oh. Um, then why are you… avoiding me?”

Steve’s face softened, momentarily impressed that Bucky was communicating so effectively. Bucky noticed his proud look and made a mental note to frustratedly tell Dr. Wolfe that she was right.

“Dr. Wolfe told me to be more open with you.”

“I’m, I’m glad she said that.”

“So…” Bucky said, fiddling with his hands like a teenage boy, “Why have you been so, um…”

“…Off?” Steve finished for him.

“Yeah.”

Oh yeah, he should just say that even in the 1930s and 40s after he and Bucky were established friends, he had feelings for him he never registered until a few days ago, and he only figured it out because the the honorary kid of the guy whose best friend/crush in question had killed the parents of, told him that being gay wasn’t a disease and that all those feelings he didn’t acknowledge for years were in fact real, and weren’t sickness because the serum hadn’t fixed him. He couldn’t be fixed because there was no cure for the way he fucking loved Bucky Barnes in every damn era of his life. He loved him when he was charming and flirty, and even now when some days he almost jumped at the sound of Bucky’s voice due to the rareness of hearing it. Yeah. Cause that was logical to say.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t meant to be so weird. Just, my mind.” he laughed dryly, as if that explained even a fraction of what was going on.

Bucky nodded with an expression that read: I’m agreeing with you despite not having a clue at what the hell you just said.

There was a long pause where Steve downed the water is in his cup and then had a very sudden revelation.

“No, I’m- I’m sorry that explained nothing.” He laughed, “I- I’ve been avoiding you.” Steve couldn’t get drunk, but damn he felt drunk. Maybe it was the way Bucky’s hair fell in his face, his blue eyes ever so slightly peering through the dark strands. Maybe it was his hands which he messed with in his lap waiting for Steve to answer; playing with them as if waiting for the answer was the most important thing he’d ever hear.

Oh God. How the hell did he miss everything?

He remembered all of the times he’d relished Bucky’s touch, enjoyed it for longer than he should. Every double date where he watched Bucky “as a cue for what to do” but it was truly an excuse just to watch him. To watch him be exactly who he was. The charming smirk, the smooth way he walked, the way he would flirt like it was second nature. Steve had been in love through all of it.

And he just now knew it.

When he called Peter, he realized where his feelings had been, and when they came about. But it wasn’t until right this very moment, that Steve knew, like, knew knew how deep they truly were. They were embedded in everything.

Every night when he woke up with nightmares about Bucky and needed to punch in order to feel release finally made sense. Every feeling he had when Bucky would clean up his wounds made sense. That jump in his heartbeat when Bucky grasped his hand in the dark that he hadn’t even allowed himself to realize until now made sense.

“Y-you’ve been avoiding me.” Bucky said, like he had been preparing for the worst and the worst was confirmed.

“Why?”

“I- I can’t explain it.” He spoke, suddenly shy. Like having to explain it made it even more real than it already was.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t explain it!” It came out angrier than he meant to. He wasn’t upset with Bucky. He was never upset with Bucky. He was mad at himself.

Bucky’s face turned shocked. He had never been yelled at by Steve. His initial reaction when someone yelled was to retreat. Obey their command and be at their mercy. But something in Bucky shifted, and he found himself angry at Steve’s outburst. It was out of nowhere. What his therapist had said was wrong. He had a complete opposite reaction to Bucky’s gentle questioning. What was his issue?

“You can’t explain it?” Bucky said, voice steady, but rising.

Steve was calmer now, but not about to apologize for the outburst. “I can’t.”

“You’re afraid of me, Steve.” He said it like a truth. His truth. Steve’s truth. Suddenly Bucky’s anger revealed itself as a secondary emotion. He was hurt. After all this time, all Steve’s work, he still didn’t trust him.

“I’m not afraid of you, Bucky.” Steve spoke, voice teetering on the edge of caution, as if he spoke any differently, the words he was holding back so desperately would spill out.

“Yes you are. Of course you are. I can’t fault you for that Steve.”

He couldn’t be mad at Steve. Not when he was eternally more mad at himself. No surprise Steve was afraid of him. No surprise he wouldn’t admit it. Showing weaknesses to the Winter Soldier? One way ticket to getting yourself killed.

“I, am not, afraid of you.”

“Then what the hell is this, Steve? Is this about what I said the other day to you? My guilt about wanting what you had? The glory? The goodness? The things the serum didn’t give me that it gave you?”

“Yes Bucky it’s about the serum!”

“Why?!”

“Because it didn’t cure me!”

Silence. Bucky broke it.

“What?”

“It- it didn’t cure me. I’m- we thought it was a disease but it’s not.”

Bucky’s head turned to the side, moderate confusion present on his features as he attempted to process what the hell Steve was talking about.

“What disease?”

“Being… gay. Or bi or whatever the kid said. I’m still not sure about all of the terms and things.”

“You’re- you’re gay?”

“I’m in love with you, Bucky.” He said plainly, like it was the simplest and most undeniable thing in the world.

“I- I think I have been for a long time. Before I knew what it was.”

“Steve,” Bucky’s face fell, a pang of sickness entering his gut.

“You, you don’t want to love me.”

“I can’t help it,” he spoke breathlessly. “I just do.”

“I’m not worth it, Steve.”

“You are worth it.”

He shook his head as if he couldn’t allow himself to believe it. As if he had to protect Steve from the hell of loving him.

“I’m not good for you.”

“You’re… everything, Buck.”

“You can’t love me.”

“I do. Do you… not feel the same?”

His mind was all over the place, just trying to make Bucky see reason. He couldn’t read between the lines of Bucky’s words.

“I- I can’t love you, I don’t even remember how. You don’t want that.”

“I want you. I want all of you.”

Bucky shook his head, refusing to meet Steve’s eyes. He didn’t know what else to say. It was a grossly unfinished conversation, but he didn’t know where to go from there. He turned down around and walked slowly down the hallway. Steve watched him go, heart sinking into his stomach. He had come on too strong. It was selfish of him to reveal his feelings like that. No wonder Bucky didn’t love him back.

Steve sat on the couch and buried his face in his hands.

What the hell had he done?

Chapter Text

Everyone knew, but no one asked. Every person in the tower felt the tension.

They saw it in the way Bucky and Steve looked at each other, but Bucky would always look away first. The way they would never be in the same room for too long. It was there was some unspoken tension in the air whenever they were near each other and it infected the whole space.

Steve wasn’t sleeping. Nat noticed the circles under his eyes first, and then Tony. On the occasions when Sam and Steve would have morning runs together, Sam noticed his exhaustion. How- although still faster than his own- his speed was slower. Even Wanda noticed it too, the Steve that was a role model and almost father figure seemed to be slowly turning inward; from his posture to his short sentences, it was clear something was deeply wrong.

Bucky had learned to control his face due to Hydra, so it was harder for people to read him as they did Steve. Still, his already hard features were hardened further, his already furrowed brow furrowed stronger, and his eyes held a sadness that was even larger than the sadness Steve had seen the day he comforted Bucky in the shower. Everyone could tell he wasn’t okay either.

He missed Steve desperately, but he couldn’t talk to him first. He had broken his heart, but there was no other way the conversation could’ve gone. Bucky didn’t know how to love. He couldn’t love Steve if he didn’t even remember what love meant. Still, the guilt ate him alive every time he saw Steve. His perfect features perpetually melancholy. It made him sick to think about.

It lasted for a few weeks, this awkward, out of rhythm situation; and the longer it lasted, the more skeptical Tony became. Peter had already been grooming him to spy, and he wondered, just wondered, if maybe, Peter was onto something when he suggested that there was something between Bucky and Steve. Why else would they be awkwardly avoiding each other? A few months ago, Tony would not have cared less, but unfortunately, Peter had rubbed off on him.

Nighttime was quieter now. Steve didn’t check in on Bucky before he went to bed, despite how badly he wanted to. He figured he’d ruined everything. Bucky didn’t want to see him. But Bucky’s memory wasn’t improving anymore due to their lack of memory jogging sessions. Steve hated the idea that he was at fault for Bucky not being able to remember things, but talking to him would just make him feel worse.

Steve would spend his nights lying on his back staring up at the ceiling, willing himself to fall asleep. He didn’t go to the gym anymore at the risk of seeing Bucky awake on the way down.

Steve’s words still comforted Bucky enough to get him to fall asleep. However, his nightmares had gotten worse. It was as if his own belief that he was unloveable combined with the human-less way that Hydra treated him, had exacerbated his nightmares tenfold. However, he made it his mission to not scream when they happened. He didn’t want to wake Steve. Steve knew though. He knew Bucky’s nightmares wouldn’t disappear so quickly, but he didn’t hear him scream, so he stayed put. His presence would be the least comforting thing for Bucky. Little did he know, despite everything, Bucky was willing Steve to come and comfort him every single night. But he couldn’t ask that of him. Not after he rejected him. Not after what he said was true. That he’d be bad for him. No. It was selfish of him to want Steve to comfort him after all of that.

He was quieter in therapy too, and due to her extensive credentials, it wasn’t lost on Dr. Wolfe.

“James?”

“Hm?” He nodded.

“You’ve been quiet.”

His head tilted to the side, brows furrowing.

“Our last three sessions, I’ve noticed, you’ve become increasingly reclusive.”

“Yeah, Doc?”

“Yeah, James. Can you tell me why?”

“There’s no reason, maybe I just don’t have anything to say.”

“I think when you get quiet, it’s when you have the most things to say. You’re just afraid of saying them.”

She was good at her job.

“Gonna coax it out of me?”

“No. But like I’ve said, I can’t help you, if you don’t open up.”

“How do I know this won’t be the one to make you think I’m incurable?”

“Because there’s nothing you could say that would make me think that. I’ve grown to know you, you know. And I have to reiterate it, I am not afraid of you.”

Bucky straightened. It was what Steve had said the night he… well. That.

“Why did my words just then make you react like that?”

“It’s nothing.”

She raised a brow, “James,” she spoke in that sweet but accusing tone; leaving him no room for denial.

“Steve said it to me the other day.”

“And why did hearing it again make you react like that?”

“Cause of what he said after.”

“What did he say after?”

He was silent. He wasn’t sure he could admit the words or even form them in his own mouth. Dr. Wolfe was patient, she sat there and waited, knowing he was trying his best.

“He- he said he loved me.”

Dr. Wolfe couldn’t hide her expression at that. Now that was unexpected.

“Wow. That’s heavy. What did you say?”

“I said that he shouldn’t.” He stated sadly, almost apologetically.

“And why shouldn’t he?”

“I’m not good for him.”

“Who are you to judge what’s good for him? He chooses to spend time with you, cares about you-“

“But he shouldn’t.”

“But he does anyway. Steve can make his own decisions, he’s a grown man, the same way you are.”

Bucky sat silently for a few moments, just letting the words settle over him. His eyes stared intently at the floor as if it somehow held the answers.

“I felt the same way. back when we were kids. Always thought he was handsome. Even before the serum. Didn’t matter to me. He was always Stevie.”

That was the first time he’d ever admitted it. The first time he’d ever openly stated that he also had feelings for Steve at some point.

“And since then, have those feelings changed?”

“I don’t know. I just remember liking him, wanting him. I don’t remember how I did it. If you asked me to now, I wouldn’t know.”

She hummed and thought deeply for a moment before asking him something.

“What did you like about him that made you have feelings for him?”

“He was brave. Never backed down. He was stubborn. Always so, so stubborn. But it was endearing. I’d clean up his cuts and bruises and… I’d stare too long. I figured he’d think I was weird. Weird for looking at him like that. Queers… they didn’t like ‘em then. I never used that word on myself, I didn’t wanna think of myself as that word.”

“Do you still admire those things about him?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” she wanted to say it. She knew the answer was right in front of him and he just didn’t know how to reach it; but he had to figure it out.

“I think we can come back to this topic next session, there’s a lot to unpack and a lot to discuss. I’ll see you next week.”

Chapter Text

Bucky thought over Dr. Wolfe’s words for the rest of the week. Wondered why she asked him if he still admired those traits about Steve that he did once upon a time. He couldn’t figure it out. And he didn’t know why he had to talk about it again next session. He wasn’t good for Steve, and he didn’t know what love was anymore. Simple as that.

Steve settled into the new silence over the course of those weeks, but it didn’t get any more comfortable. Eventually, Tony had to step in. Their mission leader and planner was not on his game, and was uncharacteristically and constantly tired.

After a very poor pre-mission briefing, Tony finally pulled Steve aside. He asked him to meet him in the lab, and set the widows to block anyone from seeing them from the outside.

“What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You aren’t on your game, Rogers. We’ve got missions to deal with, actual situations that require steady focus and as much as I hate to admit it, you do that best. But you’re not doing that. What the hell is the issue?”

“There’s no issue, Tony! I’m just tired.”

“Yeah, no shit. You’ve had dark circles under your eyes for weeks. That grandpa age is finally catching up to your face.”

“You’re telling me you sleep well every night?”

“I sleep well at least a night. You look like you’re being tortured.”

“I’m fine.”

“Cut the bullshit. Whatever this is, you’ve gotta solve it. We’ve got a team. Even if you don’t wanna talk to me, you’ve gotta fix it. Or talk to Bucky even though you’re mad at him for whatever reason. Make up and talk about it.”

“Why would I be mad at him?”

“You’re avoiding him like he’s the plague. For like the last almost a month. Just solve it.”

“I can’t solve it, okay?”

“Steve.” He said stepping closer, “I know we’re never gonna see eye to eye on some things, but I’m not the worst person in the word to confide in. Especially if whatever shit you’ve got with Barnes is making you lose your focus. More than usual when it comes to him.”

“I- I can’t talk about this one.”

“Oh, c’mon Rogers, whatever it is can’t be that big of a deal.”

“Well, it is.” He said, getting mildly frustrated.

“Just spit it out, Rogers.”

“I can’t do that Tony.”

“Jesus. Are you in love with him or something?” Tony spoke incredulously, throwing his arms up, exasperated. He didn’t even remember that it was a possibility. Had forgotten for a moment that Peter had put him up to noticing these things.

Steve was silent. his mouth somewhere between a scoff and a plea to not tell anyone before even admitting it.

Tony caught on immediately.

“Holy shit. The kid was right.”

Steve’s head moved back, confusion coming over his face.

“What?”

“Well better to admit it now; I’ve been watching you and Barnes for a while because the kid told me you seemed to have something more than friendship goin’ on, and I guess he was right.” He laughed in a quiet sort of way.

Steve was pretty shocked at that.

“How did he figure that out?”

“I don’t know, something about a discussion you guys had about modern day, you wanting to know more and more about a term, yada yada yada.”

Steve immediately realized that Tony was referencing the conversation where Peter was explaining the sexualities to him. That same conversation that was the catalyst for him calling Peter to tell him his revelation on something the damn kid had already picked up on.

God.

Steve didn’t know what to say.

“You told him you liked him?” Tony asked, more sincere now.

“Loved, actually.”

Tony let out a low whistle, “Jeez. That’s heavy. Judging by the way you’re acting I’m guessing he doesn’t feel the same?”

“He said he can’t love me.”

“Oh, so he does.” Tony spoke easily.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, he loves you he just doesn’t know it.”

“If he loved me back, wouldn’t he have realized it when I told him how I felt?”

“Someone with his level of trauma? Hell no.” Tony laughed like this was all completely obvious. “The guy probably doesn’t even remember what love feels like. No way is he gonna say it back.”

“So you’re saying he does love me?”

“Yeah. He loves you. He just doesn’t know what the feeling is. He’ll come to his senses eventually.”

The way tony spoke was so undeniably confident, as if what he was saying was already set in stone, a prophecy he knew but had to wait to see it fulfilled.

“I mean, hey, I didn’t see it before really, but now that I think about it, all that staring you guys do? Jeez you’re lucky he’s a former brainwashed assassin or he would’ve picked up on that ages ago.”

A silence settled between them, Steve just processing everything. Tony felt that he had gotten everything he wanted to say out, but before Steve left he remembered one thing.

“Remember a while ago when I asked you what he was to you in the forties?”

“Yeah.”

“He wasn’t just your best friend then, was he.”

“No.”

“Do you ever think he knew? All those years ago?”

“I don’t know. That Bucky, he was… he breezed through life. Not sure the charmer of Brooklyn would’ve noticed his scrawny best friend had a crush on him.”

Tony hummed thoughtfully before giving Steve an encouraging pat on his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t sweat it too much. The way he looks at you too- he just doesn’t know it. Okay?”

Steve nodded wordlessly and watched Tony un-blur the windows. He walked out and headed back to his room. He sat down on his bed, back hunched, palms pressing into his closed eyes. The city was awkwardly quiet, like it was waiting for the resolve to come. Hopefully Tony was right, and it would come. Any day now.

Chapter Text

Bucky had a love hate relationship with missions. He still wasn’t cleared to go on any, so when the team would go out, he’d be left alone with only Jarvis to keep him company. It was good because he enjoyed his peace and quiet, not one for socializing or talking. But, being left alone meant being left alone with his mind. All of his torturous memories and nightmares would come and haunt him, and he had no escape. Being alone meant Jarvis had him on quarantine orders from Tony. By now, it was clear that Tony wasn’t mainly afraid of The Winter Soldier making a reappearance, but more so that something out in the world would trigger Bucky, and they’d all be back to square one in his healing process.

Still, Bucky tried to make do with the quiet to the best of his ability. He’d go to the tower’s extraordinarily large library and sprawl out with books he never got to read, binge endless TV with dumb plots that would’ve never been green lit in his day, and attempted to learn to cook. It didn’t always end well. But distracting himself from his thoughts with those activities was more peace than he knew for the majority of his lifetime. Still, he missed Steve. He missed the sound of his voice when he’d show him memories. He missed the softness of his features when he would look at him after he’d remembered something. He missed his laugh and his terrible jokes.

The more he thought of Steve, the more obvious Steve’s feelings for him were. He realized all the signs he’d missed, both current, and back in their day. Every lingering look when Bucky touched him, every just-too-wide smile, and the glimmer in his eyes that only existed around him. He felt extremely guilty. He wanted to please Steve, give him what he wanted, what he deserved, but that couldn’t be him. He knew he was Steve’s friend in the forties, but he didn’t remember how that care truly felt. There was no way he loved Steve like that, it wasn’t possible. If he didn’t remember it, there was nothing there. He watched it- the way he behaved, the care- out of body through his memories, but he just couldn’t access the feelings.

This particular mission would last about a week. Steve had told him that (extremely awkwardly). He was met by a nod and the world’s briefest smile. He had left with a bad feeling in his chest, but a mission was a mission.

Bucky stood by one of the large windows in the living area, white couch not far behind him. It was a wildly rainy day and the droplets pattered on the windows as Bucky stared out into the city. It was incredibly high up, but he could still see the traffic on the streets below. He decided to step out onto the balcony. He pushed open the nearby glass door panel, and stepped onto the balcony. Immediately, he felt the cool drops of water hit his hair and he tilted his face up toward the sky to feel it on his features. The water poured down on him, quickly managing to soak his Henley and wet his jeans.

He stayed out there for a long while, the water calming his mind as it fell over him. Eventually, he stepped back inside, shaking out his wet limbs and headed to change.

By the time he was in his room and had changed into grey warm sweatpants and dried off his upper body, he had no interest in doing anything other than sitting in bed. He hadn’t used his bed yet, but something about the quiet made him comfortable. So he did. He pulled his white fluffy blanket over his body and stared out the window at the downpour that didn’t look like it was stopping anytime soon. He wondered if Steve was okay, worrying about how the weather was affecting the mission before he realized Steve was somewhere else. Their mission was in Bolivia, and after Bucky made a quick check, seemed to be nice and sunny.

As bored as he was, he really didn’t want to get up and do anything. He was much too comfortable in his current situation. But suddenly, he got an idea. Something he hadn’t dared to do in so long. In the forties, it would’ve been natural, something easy and normal in his mind. When he was in Hydra however, what was once an expression of self-indulgence became a shameful act.

In an effort to remove his humanity, Hydra managed to put him in heat once a month. Like a dog. They monitored him at all times, either with a camera in his cell between days of missions, or being fully guarded. Between those, he was never without eyes on him. During his times in heat, his sexual desire was insatiable. He couldn’t help his need. Quite literally, it was embedded in him. He never even thought of anything when he relieved his urges, just focused on needing the release. He’d often hear the guards chuckling outside, hearing his sounds of both pleasure and anguish. Even through security cameras there would be small speakers where he’d hear jeering and disgusting words being hissed at him for desires they were controlling.

His mind raced at the memories. The shame. The humiliation. He hadn’t told his therapist about any of that. That part still felt like a wound he couldn’t even touch. He hadn’t told Steve about that either. But he was alone. No one was there to monitor him. Could he indulge in something without being shamed? He wanted to know.

He slid his hand down his pants and massaged himself in gentle, tentative strokes. He moaned gently at the feeling. He was still soft, not having been hard since Hydra. His sexual desires had lessened since then, and he hadn’t had an urge in a long time. Even now, he didn’t have an urge. He was just curious.

As he continued to masturbate, his guard slowly came down. His shoulders relaxed, and his strokes became more natural. He hadn’t had a sexual thought in years, and he wondered if he could cum without fantasizing about anything.

It continued to feel good, his moans gentle, but happy. He was genuinely enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t in a long, long time. Then, slow, and ever so quiet, someone crept into his mind. Blond hair soft, blue eyes warm, muscles strong- he didn’t even register who it was; but he felt himself getting hard. He saw lips now, plump and pink. He imagined his own tongue running over them and let out a soft gasp at the thought. He saw the body under him, gazing up at him with kindness and patience, wordlessly telling him to go at his own pace. So he did.

He continued, and pictured his hips rolling against the supple ones beneath him, another moan escaped his mouth. His back arched as he continued indulging in his vision, eyes closing as he stroked himself faster. 

His moans were stronger now, more frequent, deeper even. He’d figured out a rhythm: stroking himself a couple of times before playing softly with his tip as if to tease the precum that was already coming out. He was enjoying himself so much, very nearly at his peak, when suddenly his entire fantasy fit together like a puzzle. The hair, eyes, lips, body, patience, it belonged to someone. Someone he knew.

He chased the high for a few more strokes, breath getting ragged as his climax was approaching. He bucked his hips, one, two, three times with fast strokes, and moaned so comfortably it was as if he’d done it a thousand times:

“Steve.”

He came all over his hand, some spilling onto his stomach. He gasped and collapsed down with a light thud. It took him a second to realize whose name he moaned, but once he did, his breathing slowed. The thought of Steve brought him comfort and gentility, even in the state they were in right now. His mind was racked with questions of why wasn’t he more shocked that he had moaned Steve’s name? Why wasn’t he horrified that he allowed himself to have a sexual thought of his best friend? But even though his guilt told him it should feel wrong, it didn’t. It had come so naturally to him, the pleasure that came across his whole body. It was as if his body had been waiting for someone to provide him that pleasure, that oasis, and someone had finally given it.

He felt guilty that he didn’t feel guilty. The logical part of his brain knew it was wrong, but oh, it felt so right.

Still, what was right in front of him, wildly obvious, what Dr. Wolfe was waiting on him to see, didn’t register to Bucky. He couldn’t explain why the thought of Steve got him going. He didn’t even have the energy to understand what he had just done. Instead, he closed his eyes and actually, peacefully drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up, it was due to another nightmare. After the enjoyable release he had before he drifted off, a nightmare was the last thing he needed. As he looked outside the window, he saw it was pitch black but still raining. He checked the time and saw it was nearing 2 AM. He wondered how long he had been out for considering it was still somewhat light when he last noticed the sky.

He tried to catch his breath, but his chest heaved uncontrollably. This was the worst part of everyone being away for missions. He couldn’t hear soft breathing, or see doors cracked open and lights still on to know he wasn’t alone. Because with everyone on missions, he was alone.

The fact that even his bed didn’t help alleviate his nightmares didn’t comfort him either. It seemed no matter what he did, he’d never escape the fear that crawled in and tormented his nights.

He was having serious difficulty calming down, the image of a woman he killed flashing in his mind. He needed a way to relax.

The first solution that popped in his mind was out of the question. There was no way he could call Steve. It was the same time in Bolivia, and with the way they’d been recently? No way did he have the right to call him.

He suddenly remembered what he had done earlier. The clarity only hit him now, and the guilt slapped his chest which if was real, would leave a bright red mark.

Oh God. He had masturbated to the thought of his friend.

And liked it.

He felt sick to his stomach. But even within the sickly feeling of his friend giving him sexual gratification, the thought of his friend was the only thing calming him down.

He had to call him.

He reached for his phone, caution thrown to the wind, and called him.

It rang once before he picked up.

“Bucky?” Steve said on the other line, voice laced with worry and sleep.

“Hi,” he spoke through staggered breaths.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, “Yeah.” He spoke more assuredly after a beat.

Steve was silent for a moment before speaking again with a light crack in his voice.

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No. I just- I needed to hear your voice.”

Steve almost felt his heart sing at the words.  He knew everything wouldn’t suddenly go back to normal, but the fact that Bucky had called him while vulnerable made him feel like he hadn’t ruined everything.

“Well I’m glad you called.”

“I’m glad you answered.”

And at the risk of sounding almost too affectionate, Steve added, “I’ll always answer when you call.”

Bucky released a large breath, shoulders releasing and face softening.

“Thanks, Steve.”

“You’re welcome. Do you want me to stay on?”

“That’s okay. Just needed to hear you.”

“Okay. I’m here if you need me again, alright?”

“Mmhm. Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

Chapter Text

Steve and the others came back a few days later, and Bucky was deeply relieved to see him. Even as he was battered and bruised, he was there. He looked like he used to back in the forties, except now he didn’t need the help of anyone to clean his wounds. Bucky missed cleaning his wounds. He missed the protectiveness of it. The way he knew Steve respected him for it. Bucky was always more cool and collected while Steve had the fiery spirit, but he knew Steve appreciated that about him. Knew it gave him relief to have a balance, even if he never admitted it.

Maybe even that was the love Steve was talking about- and Bucky never knew it.

Ever since the day Steve confessed, he figured Bucky didn’t want to see him or hear from him so he never came to him first. If Bucky wanted to see him, he’d come. But he’d forgotten this was Bucky he was talking about. The same man who only recently was comfortable ordering food by himself. He should’ve known better than to expect Bucky to initiate reconnecting, yet somehow, he did.

Steve held onto the night when Bucky called him like a lifeline, like a stuffed animal he held close to his body to absorb the warmth. It had been five days since the call, and he had gotten back to the tower that very night. He wanted desperately to talk to Bucky, but didn’t want to scare him off. Bucky had made the first move in reconciling, maybe he’d make another if Steve was patient enough.

As Steve cleaned off his wounds in his room, little yelps escaped his throat. Even with the serum and his quick healing, the pain that came in the healing of said wounds didn’t come easy. As he patched gauze on a particularly bad gash on his knee which had somehow penetrated through the fabric of his suit (he made a note to ask Tony for a suit upgrade later), he heard faint pacing outside his door.

“Nat?” He called, figuring it was her because she was also pretty injured and he had taken a good amount of things from the first aid kit for himself.

“No, um, it’s Bucky.”

Steve’s ears perked up, “Come in.” He spoke almost too quickly.

“Hey,” Bucky said quietly, half hidden in the doorway before he hesitantly stepped inside, unreadable look on his face.

“Hey,” Steve answered, more breathy than he meant to.

“Damn, what happened to you?” He said jokingly, despite ache of worry settling in him as he saw all of Steve’s injuries.

“Aircraft sliced a hole through my suit. Tried to pull it off a ledge with a kid inside it.

“Did you get the kid?”

“Yeah I did- fuck” he hissed as he wiped some rubbing alcohol on the gash.

Bucky immediately stepped over, his old instincts kicking in as he knelt to the floor and took the rubbing alcohol napkin out of Steve’s hands.

“Damn. Avenger, and you still don’t know how to properly clean a wound.”

“Never learned. You always did it for me while I was prattling on about righteousness with a bloody nose while you told me to hold still.”

“Well I think I should finally teach you.”

He dabbed the outside of the gash with the rubbing alcohol napkin before deeming the wound clean enough. He put some cream on it and let it dry slightly before putting a cotton ball and a bandaid over it. It didn’t occur to him to be surprised that he remembered how to clean and fix a wound, despite Hydra never taking proper care of his. It came to him easily, like it was a part of him that was just engraved in his body.

“You can’t disinfect it so hard, or the injury will get exacerbated.”

Steve watched him eye the injury with such care and precision and cursed himself for falling in love with him a little bit more as he did. He also just loved watching Bucky kneel below him. Not in… that way- well not not in that way- but in the way that there was a tender reverence that the one who was always larger and stronger just patiently sat at his friend’s feet and fixed him up. He may have thrown him over his shoulder, dragged him away with his level of strength, but he took care of his wounds as seriously as a nurse would a soldier. He respected Steve’s fight. That, he never doubted. Even now when he was bigger than Bucky, that feeling carried over.

“All done.” Bucky said, sitting back on his knees placidly as he studied his work. He gave an approving hum and stood up slowly to go as if that was all he’d wanted to do when he came in Steve’s room. But before he could go, he decided- against his better judgement- to speak.

“How did the mission go?”

“It went well,” Steve smiled, relieved that Bucky didn’t exit immediately.

“Good, good. Went smoothly.”

“As smoothly as it could’ve gone. My face has seen better days, though,” he laughed weakly, motioning up to the dirt on his face and bruises on his cheeks. There was also a little dried blood on his hairline.

“…Want me to clean it?”

“Thought you said you were teaching me to do it myself.”

“You’re not a master yet, Rogers” he teased, dryly, sitting down on the bed next to him and reaching into the first aid kit on the floor for more supplies.

It was strange how one panicked phone call had allowed themselves to fall back into their usual rhythm. Still, they both felt an underlying sense of awkwardness that neither dared to share.

Steve sat quietly, letting Bucky patch him up. Bucky’s hands were gentle and steady as they had always been. The callouses hadn’t changed that. Even the addition of the metal hand provided a nice cooling sensation when it touched his face- although Bucky tried to avoid that.

He’d mutter a barely coherent “Sorry” when the metal made contact with Steve’s face, but he was completely unbothered.

“It’s okay.”

It took him about fifteen minutes to clean and patch all of Steve’s wounds. It was calming for both of them, a sweet release from the weeks and weeks of tension. A small glimpse into past years when everything was simpler. When even the Great Depression couldn’t dim their lights.

“Finished.” Bucky said, having taped down the very last bandaid on Steve’s forehead.

“Might have you do it every time. Doubt I’ll ever be as steady as you.”

“Probably not.” He smiled, a genuine smile.

“Thanks, Bucky.”

“Anytime, Steve.”

That felt final. Bucky walked out of the room and left Steve alone. Steve let out a sigh and stared ahead at an invisible point on the white wall. It had felt just like it did in the forties. Every touch was soft and reverent just the way he remembered. It was nostalgic and delicious and he wished the feeling came in an ice cream flavor he could savor and swallow. Tony had told him that Bucky would come to his senses. God he hoped it was soon.

Chapter Text

“You initiated the interaction? I’m proud of you, James.” Dr. Wolfe had said when Bucky told her about the interaction.

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. It was nice to hear someone say they were proud of him. Even if that someone was paid to listen to his problems.

“So let’s reiterate, you asked to come in, helped clean his wound, asked about the mission, and then cleaned the rest of his wounds.”

“All of the above.”

“So are you two having more organic interactions now since then?”

“Honestly, it’s pretty close to the way it was before. But still, I can tell he’s holding back a little.”

“Why do you think he’s holding back?”

“Because I outright hurt him. Why would he wanna be as open?”

She nodded.

“I want him to be happy. I didn’t want to hurt him. But there was no other way.”

“Other way to what?”

“Protect him. He had to know I wasn’t good enough for him. Steve he… he likes fixing things. He wanted to fix America and so he became a symbol of what America should stand for. He tries to fix me, he’s gonna end up heartbroken when it doesn’t work.”

“Who says you’re broken?”

“I do.”

“Do you think Steve’s love for you is conditional on him wanting to fix you?”

“Maybe. What I do know is I can’t be enough for him.”

“What did we say on deciding what Steve can handle when he’s perfectly capable of deciding on his own?”

“Some things he just doesn’t get. He’s too stubborn to ever admit I’m not fixable. He- he matters to me. A lot. So much. You can’t let him waste away taking care of me and hoping I’ll be fixed.”

Dr. Wolfe knew exactly what he meant. Once again, the answer was right in front of him. He just didn’t have the words for it. “He matters to me” was his way of saying his “I love you.” He just didn’t know that. She couldn’t spoil it for him yet, though. It would be so much more meaningful when he realized it on his own.

“Let’s change the subject a little bit. How did you feel when you were cleaning his wounds? You mentioned that it was something you used to do with him.”

“I felt relieved. Like I had a purpose in his life again, even for fifteen minutes. Steve always respected how I took care of him. Stubborn as he was. It made me feel appreciated. It was nice touching him, too. Felt like back in the forties. It was comfortable. Felt real. It was nice feeling protective over him. That control thing we’ve been working on. Liked taking care of him ‘stead of hurting him.”

“You felt care for him.”

“Yeah.”

“You said to me earlier, you didn’t remember what care felt like. Maybe you cleaning his wounds helped you remember that a bit.”

“I guess. Maybe.”

Yes. He meant yes. But he wasn’t good at admitting his successes. Baby steps.

When he returned home, he saw Steve on the couch watching an old thirties film.

“Hey.”

Upon hearing Bucky’s voice he turned around immediately.

“Hey!”

“Can I watch with you?”.

He had to fight or the absolute beam that threatened to take over his face, instead settling for a gentle smile and nod, patting the couch next to him.

Bucky sat down to his right and stared ahead at the screen. They both just watched the film for a while. It was some thirties romance in black and white, nostalgic and familiar.

Steve wanted to tell Bucky how sorry he was for making him uncomfortable. That he didn’t want to ruin their friendship that mattered so much to him. That he wished he could take it back- well not that part. He couldn’t do that. He felt it too deeply to retract it. If he did, he felt like it would eat away at his soul until it devoured him whole. He had to settle for living with the fact that Bucky knew, and didn’t feel the same. He had to settle for friendship and make the best out of it.

“Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I um-“

He wanted to say “I care about you. I’m slowly starting to realize that better.” But what came out was “Do you wanna order some takeout?”

“Yeah, sure. Chinese?”

“Perfect.”

Chapter Text

And so to their little rhythm was back in full swing. Their nightly memory jogging sessions were back, and due to his new revelation, Bucky was much more comfortable with them. Memories came back easier too, now that he realized he did in fact feel the care for Steve. He still hadn’t realized the elephant in the room, but he needed his own pace.

He was back to his intent staring. Only this time, he noticed even more about Steve. After the time he masturbated to the thought of him, every time he saw him, he saw the features that made him feel so comfortable. His hair that he constantly ran his hand through, his eyes that seemed to soften whenever they met his own, his hands that were large but careful; every part of him provided Bucky with a sense of comfort. Even in his sexual expression, he wasn’t just “horny.” He wanted to feel supported, treated with care, loved-

Oh. There it was. The feeling he couldn’t place. The elephant in the room.

It actually was love.

L. O. V. E.

Four letters. The feeling he had been searching to feel for months. And on a random Thursday, it had punched him square in the jaw. And it didn’t even hurt.

He thought over what to do with this newfound information. It should’ve felt amazing, but he felt an existential sense of dread. The way he had insinuated to Steve that he didn’t feel the same way except he just hadn’t known. And even if he were to confess, he still wasn’t good enough for Steve. No amount of love for him would change that fact.

But it was torturous as the days went on. Watching him like he didn’t feel the same. Watching him like he didn’t break his heart when he didn’t know how he felt. How he’d have to break it all over again because he couldn’t have him.

God he wanted him.

Maybe he always did.

Days were full of uncertainty, and nights were full of nightmares softened by thoughts of Steve.

He hid his feelings, even from Dr. Wolfe. He felt like he didn’t know how to admit it. And if he couldn’t admit it to his therapist, how on earth could he admit it to Steve? Still, day by day, he found the urge to state his feelings grow stronger. But how would he even tell him? He wasn’t good at that sort of thing. And once he told him, how was he supposed to make Steve understand stand that he still couldn’t have him? It was a vicious cycle that grew more and more difficult to toe the line of with every breath he took.

The feelings festered for weeks, and Bucky tried not to make it awkward. Somehow, he was better at it than Steve was when he was trying to hide his feelings. He didn’t wear his expressions on his sleeve like Steve did, and he was accustomed to hiding any and all feelings he’d ever had, so it wasn’t too difficult. But it ate away at him. It ate away at him during therapy, and it ate away at him when he looked at Steve and saw every era of him and realized that he, too, had feelings for him back in their day. He had just always been too oblivious to notice his own feelings or Steve. Therapy was helpful to process that, but he still didn’t admit his feelings.

He pushed it down further and further, trying to get comfortable with dreams of him and gentle fantasies that made his body warm and comfortable. But it was getting increasingly difficult. Until one foggy and rainy night weeks later, he just couldn’t hide it anymore.

He felt wildly guilty that he couldn’t, but his mind was clouded. He couldn’t see anything but Steve.

Bucky had spent the day in the library, catching up on books he’d missed. He was knee deep in the early parts of The Great Gatsby when a quote struck his brain: “It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life… It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.”

He knew in that moment, he had to tell him. That was how Steve made him feel. Even if him “at his best” he wasn’t enough, he had to tell him.

He walked out of the library, hair tousled from the way he was sitting, and walked to Steve’s room. He knocked on the door but there was no answer. He walked to the living room instead, and was met with Steve; relaxing leisurely with the TV playing lightly in the background. His hair was messy in a way that still looked put together. His eyes looked gentle and soft, but not tired. He was wearing a short sleeved grey shirt and grey sweatpants that were a slight shade darker than the shirt. He didn’t hear Bucky come in, so Bucky just stood and admired him for a moment. Admired him before everything changed.

“Hey.” He spoke, officially deciding that it was time.

“Hey.” Steve said while turning to look at Bucky. He had on his classic red Henley which always hugged him in the right places. Black sweatpants donned his legs, and despite the casually cool outfit, he looked incredibly awkward in his demeanor.

“Y’alright?”

“Yeah. I just- could I talk to you for a moment?”

“Of course.” He spoke like he was trying to reassure someone who didn’t know if he could talk to him for a moment. “Always.”

He nudged his head toward the spot next to him on the couch. Bucky slowly sat down.

“Everything alright?” He spoke empathetically.

“Yeah, I just- I  want to tell you something and I don’t know how.”

“You can tell me anything. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I just know you’re not gonna like some of it.”

“Tell me anyway.”

He took a deep breath, shoulders coming up and chest expanding. This was his last chance. His last chance to back out, but he couldn’t take it.

“What you said, when you… you know. I uh- I feel it too. I’ve always felt it, I just didn’t know what it was, and I didn’t know what I was feeling was it.”

He didn’t want to say the word. He knew it  but his mouth couldn’t form it.

“You-“ Steve stuttered, almost unable to believe it.

“You- you feel the same?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Steve didn’t smile. Not yet. Bucky said he would say something Steve wouldn’t like. He had to wait, hold off on the explosive joy that was protruding out of his chest.

“What’s the other thing?”

“That you still can’t have me.”

His heart sank.

“Why can’t I have you?”

“Because you don’t deserve to have to deal with me. I’m- I’m not fixable the way you want me to be.”

Steve’s heart sank even lower.

“I don’t want to fix you.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to love me if you can’t. And that’s just going to hurt you.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in deep emotion, he reached out t touch Bucky’s knee.

“I’ve never wanted to fix you.”

Bucky’s face mirrored Steve’s, but with an undertone of sadness.

"You don’t?”

“You don’t need fixing. You’re not broken.”

“Yeah, Steve. Yeah I am. You shouldn’t have to handle that.”

“I think you should let me decide what I can and can’t handle.”

“But I-“

Steve waited patiently.

“I don’t know how to let you love me.”

He finally said the word. Out loud. And it was terrifying.

Steve’s features softened, he took Bucky’s hand in his own with the most gentle grasp possible. Bucky stared down at their hands.

“Let me teach you.”

He looked at Bucky, devotion and deep care within his eyes which were now more pupil than blue. He waited for silent confirmation for what he wanted to do, and when Bucky looked up from their intertwined hands his gaze was impossibly soft. That was confirmation.

Steve leaned forward and cupped Bucky’s cheek, leaning in for a tender, tentative kiss.

It was the most gentle kiss either of them ever had. Bucky had kissed a lot of people, but the timidity of Steve’s kiss, like he was careful not to break something so important, a soft delicate thing rather than a hardened soldier made him feel irrevocably warm.

They both eased into the kiss, not letting it get out of control. Bucky’s lips were soft against Steve’s, and he made careful intention to keep that softness unchanged.

Bucky felt Steve’s taste on his lips, it was a little sweet- perhaps something he’d drank. Steve couldn’t place Bucky’s taste, he was too busy just enjoying the feeling of his mouth.

Bucky moaned ever so gently into the kiss, never having dared to imagine just how wonderful it would be.

“I don’t think,” Steve paused between kisses, “you know how long I’ve waited for this. Longer than I was even aware of.”

Bucky didn’t respond, just kissed him back with a little more intensity. Steve breathed into it, fighting off a moan.

“You’re everything, Steve.”

Steve paused the kiss. It was a deep and genuine statement, a kind he didn’t know Bucky would ever even have the courage to say. He hadn’t said I love you. It was too soon for him to say it to Steve, even if he felt it. Too much. Steve knew that. But he knew that was Bucky’s way of telling him that.

“I love you too, Bucky.”

Eventually, their adrenaline wore off and they had to pull away. They stared at each other breathlessly, not even daring to break the perfect and comfortable silence in between them. Eventually, it was Steve who broke the silence first.

“I never knew it could… be like that.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“I want to have you, Buck. I want that every day, every night, I want to be able to just look at you and have that just be.”

His breath hitched for a minute, but he was so in love, the fear didn’t outweigh his response.

“Me too.”

Steve opened his arms and Bucky slid into his side. He slowly allowed himself to move his head onto Steve’s chest and feel his racing heartbeat.”

“You always this anxious to kiss someone, Rogers?” He teased, meeting Steve’s eyes.

Steve looked down at him bashfully, “Yeah. But even more with you.”

“Punk.”

“Ass.”

“Hey, no swearing. You have to put a dollar in the jar.”

“Oh shush.”

Bucky laughed, a loud, real laugh. A laugh like seventy years of torture was finally lifting off of his shoulders. He’d never outrun all the trauma, that he knew, but for a moment, it felt like maybe, just maybe, he could manage it.

Chapter Text

It had been about two weeks since Bucky and Steve had become… well whatever they were. They didn’t say anything to anyone, but they didn’t have to. It was pretty obvious, and of course, Tony had already informed Peter who was ecstatic over the phone.

Still, Bucky hadn’t told Steve about his sexual action. He felt it was too soon. He might scare Steve off if he confessed something he still felt a bit of guilt about.

The two had begun sharing Steve’s room which was more lived-in and felt homey to Bucky. Steve had told him the night Bucky confessed that he didn’t want him sleeping on the floor anymore; and too tired and comfortable to argue, Bucky reluctantly agreed. So they would sleep together at night, Steve on the right side of the bed, Bucky on the left. He made sure his metal arm never touched Steve that way, and he always slept with a t-shirt to cover his scars. He may have been in love, but he wasn’t secure by any means.

When Bucky finally told his therapist that he was in love with Steve she responded: “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to figure that out?” And since then, they talked a great deal about their relationship.

It was a crisp autumn evening with Bucky and Steve lying next to each other in bed watching leaves fall off of tall trees below their high and large window. Steve ran his fingers up and down Bucky’s flesh arm gently sending goosebumps across the skin.

“Loved fall.” Steve said calmly.

“Yeah?”

“Liked watching the leaves fall, being able to wear long pants but no coat. Air always felt crisp. And remember when your mom made that cider every fall?”

“The one thing she knew how to cook.” Bucky laughed lightly, not wanting to disturb the peacepeace of the conversation.

Steve pressed a light kiss that Bucky’s shoulder, “But she made it well.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“Hey,” he spoke, stroking the right side of Bucky’s face, “Look at me.”

Bucky twisted his head over his shoulder to meet Steve’s eyes who gave him a laugh.

“No, turn your body and let me hold you.”

Bucky gave him an untraceable look, but shifted only slightly.

“What? Am I cold?” Steve joked.

“No, no, just the,” he gestured to the arm that was still under him, “arm.”

“Doesn’t bother me. Doesn’t scare me. Turn and let me hold you.”

Reluctantly after a moment, he obliged and turned. He didn’t place his metal arm over Steve’s waist like Steve did his; he kept it at his side tensely as if he was cuddling at attention.

“Buck,” Steve spoke with a more sensitive tone, “Do you not like people touching your arm?”

“I just don’t like the arm. It should bother you that I’ve got a metal arm where the human one should be.”

“It’s yours. That makes it plenty human.” Steve spoke, taking the metal hand off Bucky’s hip and holding it in his own. He brought the arm to his lips and kissed the inside of his forearm. Bucky couldn’t feel the sensation of the kiss, but the fact that Steve was willing to kiss it was enough.

“Kiss me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

He leaned in and entrapped Bucky’s lips in an unusually passionate kiss. They hadn’t kissed like that yet and it was a new experience for both of them. Soon, Steve wound up on top of Bucky, running his hands down his arms, to his chest-

“Wait hold on,” Bucky said just as Steve’s hands slid to the underside of his shoulders.

Steve paused immediately and stared down at him with worry.

“Are you okay? Was that too much?”

“Scars. The ones on my shoulder.”

“You don’t like people touching them?”

“They’re not pretty.”

Steve scoffed at that. He couldn’t care less what they looked like. He wanted to worship Bucky’s body exactly as it was.

Steve had seen Bucky’s scars before when he found him in the shower, but his mind was too racked to worry about being self conscious. Now in bed with Steve who was all soft skin and muscles, he was fully aware of the scars on his skin.

“Would you let me touch them?”

“You don’t want to see them.”

“I do.”

Bucky looked away, “I don’t want to freak you out.”

“You won’t freak me out. Promise.”

Bucky nodded and sat up in the bed.

“Stand up for me,” Steve ordered gently, getting up first to guide Bucky up.

Bucky took his outstretched hand with his right one and turned around. Ever so slowly, he took off his shirt with a shuddering sigh. Steve saw more and more of the scars on his shoulder as he removed the shirt. Not only did they trail from his shoulder to the area of his back nearest to it, but scattered scars traced along his back sporadically. Their looks didn’t terrify him, but the thought of all of their stories did.

He carefully traced his fingers along the scars, making note of which ones made Bucky shudder at the touch of.

“Sorry. Sensitive?”

“Yeah.”

His head tilted as he studied the scars, noticing every color, every curve, every level of healing, everything he could possibly know to know Bucky’s body better.

“Beautiful.” Steve said softly, leaning in to press a kiss to the middle of Bucky’s back with a particularly long- but well healed- scar.

Bucky exhaled with a mild shudder causing Steve to immediately stop.

“Did that hurt?”

He looked over his shoulder, “No. Just… no one’s ever touched there before.”

Steve didn’t respond, just went back to peppering gentle kisses across the plane of his back. Bucky moaned softly, wordlessly urging Steve to continue- even as hesitant as he was. So Steve continued, grasping Bucky’s waist and kissing the right and then left sides of his back.

Bucky had never known comfort like this before. It was intimate, careful, and gentle. He felt entirely secure with Steve holding and kissing him.

Steve slowly moved his lips to Bucky’s shoulder, taking his sweet time kissing the scars around the metal.

Bucky was a little more antsy about this particular spot, though. He’d tried to rip off the arm numerous times, never showing the arm or that area of his body any mercy; and here was Steve, showing great reverence and borderline admiration of the things he hated. It was almost enough to make him confess his sexual action. Almost.

“You okay with this?”

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly.

Steve continued his trail of kisses all over Bucky’s back, bending his knees slightly when he had to kiss lower, making sure every scar- healed well or not- was appreciated and taken care of.

“Mmhm,” Bucky half sighed, half moaned as he let his head fall back to where Steve’s lips were making their way up his spine.

“Do you,” Steve asked cautiously, “Wanna take this further?”

Bucky suddenly froze, and Steve pulled back immediately.

“I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested it so soon. It’s whatever pace you want, Buck.”

“No, no it’s not that,” Bucky said, turning to face him. His lips were wet and parted as he stared at the other man.

“I- um. I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,” Steve said, mirroring Bucky’s wariness.

“Can you, uh, sit down?”

Steve did as he was told quickly. He looked up at Bucky with what could only be described as “pleading” eyes while he waited for Bucky to speak.

Bucky sat down, needing the grounding of a soft bed beneath him to release the impending worry. He as terrified Steve would think he was awful, gross, weird from having done that already. The thought of giving himself pleasure without it being forced upon him sent shivers down his spine.

“Before I told you, I don’t remember how long it was before I told you, I-“ he stopped, voice breaking.

Steve reached out and. Took his metal hand, urging him to continue.

“I… thought of you. In ways I didn’t know if I was allowed to. But it wasn’t harsh or dramatic, it was soft and delicate and- I’m sorry.”

Steve tried to piece together what Bucky was saying from the not-so-clear way he was putting it.

“You thought of me… when you touched yourself?”

Bucky dropped his head in shame.

“Yeah. I’m- I’m sorry Steve. I shouldn’t have done it, it was just you were-“

“Bucky,” Steve said softly, taking him out of his shame cycle, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

Bucky looked at him, half surprised, half still a step away from an apology.

“Why?”

“Because there’s nothing wrong with it. Everybody does it you know.”

“Yeah but I- I haven’t since…” he trailed off.

Steve’s face shifted to concern, preparing for an impending horror story (which unfortunately he was going to get).

“Since what, Bucky?”

“Hydra. They- once a month I’d get this thing. They’d uh, put me in… heat.”

Steve felt mortified but he tried to keep his face in the same expression to not freak Bucky out.

“And when they did… I couldn’t stop myself. And I wouldn’t even think about anything I just- I’d just do it. And I’d hear them,” he said bitterly, teeth one stage away from being clenched with a strong grind.

“I’d hear them say things. They’d make fun of me. They’d… they’d see me. And I couldn’t do anything.”

Steve gulped to push down the absolute rage that filled his stomach. He felt entirely grateful that he’d taken down Hydra when he did, but the guilt that settled through him? The knowledge that he couldn’t prevented all of this if he hadn’t lost Bucky on the train? It felt like an animal gnawing at his skin, trying to eat its way to his heart.

“Bucky, I’m- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable. I’m mad. I can’t believe they did that to you, and that I wasn’t there. God. If I could go back in time and save you sooner I’d be there already.”

Bucky looked at him with a mix of sadness and appreciation.

“Bucky I’m so sorry. I promise you, I’ll never make fun of you for exploring yourself. And I’ll never be mad. Okay?” he spoke in his usual “protective dad” tone.

"Okay.” Bucky nodded.

Steve reached for Bucky’s other hand and pressed a lingering kiss to his knuckles. He sat up and looked Bucky straight in the face and kissed him gently on the lips. His hands slid up to cup Bucky’s face and the two melted easily into the kiss like it was the most natural thing in the word.

“Love you, Buck.”

Bucky didn’t respond in words yet, even though both of them knew he felt it. The words still felt foreign on his tongue so he settled for a kiss to Steve’s shoulder- his way of saying: I love you back.

Chapter Text

When the evening had fallen into a crisp and cool night, Steve had fallen asleep to the sound of leaves falling outside. The super soldier hearing was definitely something. Bucky however, was still awake but tightly held by one of Steve’s strong arms as he snored lightly beside him. Bucky watched the full moon from the window and willed himself to go to sleep. As he breathed into Steve’s strong touch, he slowly fell asleep.

It wasn’t long before a nightmare filtered in what could’ve been a blissful sleep. It was eerily specific this time.

“Mission report.”

Tortured silence.

“Mission report now,” Alexander spoke with an ice cold edge in his tone.

The soldier stared ahead, mind dazed, weak, exhausted.

The sound of a harsh slap across his soft cheek scorched the air, and only then did the soldier’s mind awaken.

“The man on the bridge… who was he?”

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment.”

I knew him.” He regretted saying it as soon as it came out, but it was as if he couldn’t stop himself. He had to release the feeling, or at least say it outward that there was something there. “He said my name was… but I knew him.” He held onto the face, temporarily relieving himself of his reality, until he heard “wipe him.”

“Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos, tomorrow morning, were gonna give it a push. But, you don’t do your part, I cant do mine. And Hydra can’t give the world the freedom it deserves.”

In a final act of what could’ve been desperation if his mind was anywhere sane, he spoke one last time.

“But I knew him.”

After a moment, Alexander stood up giving a silent hum, “Prep him.”

“But, he’s been out of Cryo Freeze too long.”

“Then wipe him and start over.”

The Winter Soldier knew better than to protest. It would be useless. Still as he heard his own screams of anguish he wished that maybe he could hold onto something as his memory was wiped. The machine whirred, and he thought repeatedly of the mysterious blonde man with blue eyes, and held onto his face. By the time The Winter Soldier was wiped clean, he had no memory of anything, except the extraordinarily faint outline of a blond-haired and blue-eyed face. It was blurry beyond measured, but it was there. It was the only thing that was there.

“Your mission: eliminate Captain America.”

“готов подчиниться.”

Bucky awoke with a start, sitting up, back hunched and his hand clutched to his beating heart. He almost screamed, but quickly registered that he didn’t want to wake Steve. However, Steve had heard him talking in his sleep.

“Buck?” He spoke groggily, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. As soon as he saw Bucky’s face, all exhaustion left.

“Buck, what’s wrong?”

“They-“ he couldn’t quite catch his breath. “They asked me to kill you. They knew I knew you. I told them. I was so stupid.” Tears began to form as he stared ahead, still refusing to meet Steve’s eyes.

“I’m here, Buck. They didn’t take me. I’m right here.”

Bucky let out a loud sob, head dropping as he stared at the blanked half covering him.

“Hey, hey,” Steve soothed, wrapping Bucky in a soft hug.

Bucky didn’t hug back, deciding he wasn’t worthy of one. He just continued sobbing, tears falling into his lap as Steve buried his face in Bucky’s neck.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

The tears continued to fall, and Bucky still didn’t let himself be properly comforted. His shoulders tensed as if he was silently telling Steve he didn’t deserve his comfort.

“Lean into me,” Steve said, somehow reading his mind.

Bucky didn’t move. His body frozen in shame.

“Bucky, let me hold you.”

Steve waited patiently for Bucky to let him. It took him a moment. A long, long moment. But eventually, the soldier cracked. He leaned into Steve’s side and sniffled while choking down a sob. His shoulders relaxed and he sighed into Steve. Steve smiled ever so lightly, having waited for this moment. He wrapped his arms tighter around Bucky as if to contain all his pain and anguish in one spot and force it to release into the earth and never haunt him again.

Eventually, Bucky quieted, full body releasing the tension, and his breaths became deeper and softer. Steve also relaxed knowing Bucky was too.

“Better?”

“Mmhm.”

Steve traced soft, comforting circles on Bucky’s flesh arm, smiling contentedly when the other man sighed at the touch.

“I’m not gonna go anywhere. You know that right?”

Bucky sniffled slightly, “I’m trying.”

“And I’ll be patient till you will.”

While he looked more relaxed, Bucky still was on edge with words he wanted to say.

“I want to say something.”

“Anything.”

“I’m fighting the urge to give you an out right now.”

Steve knew Bucky wouldn’t be free of his tortured mind in a day. He knew allowing himself to accept the love he deserved wouldn’t come as fast as he wanted; but still, his chest burned with sadness at Bucky’s words.

“Well even if you gave me one I wouldn’t take it.”

“No?”

“Not a damn chance.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m in it. I’m in it for the long haul, I’m in it when you fight me about what you deserve, I’m in it when we fight. Meant what I said. I’m with you till the end of the line.”

Bucky didn’t respond. He didn’t really have the words, and he wasn’t sure he could even accept what Steve had just said. So instead, he let the warm feeling spread across his chest and lull him to sleep. Steve held him until his breath became even, kissed the top of his head, and laid down with him in his arms.

Chapter Text

A few weeks later into their comfortable relationship, something in Steve shifted. It wasn’t a change in how he felt about Bucky, it was a change in how Bucky made him feel. Suddenly, the sight of Bucky rolling up his sleeves made Steve feel warm. The casual flex of his metal arm made him sweat. The way he’d lick his fingers clean when finishing food made his heart beat faster. Steve wasn’t an idiot. He knew that this feeling was being turned on.

It wasn’t like Steve was a non-sexual being. He had masturbated before, but he was not nearly as well versed in sexual matters as Bucky was in the forties. While Bucky told him of his escapades (which were only a few- he was a gentleman after all), Steve hadn’t even made a girl blush. Up until this point in his life, Steve Rogers was in fact, a virgin.

Although a virgin, it didn’t take a scientist to understand what he was feeling. But, he’d never felt that particular way before. Out of the blue, it was like everything Bucky did turned him on.

The night he asked Bucky if he wanted to take things further, he was turned on, of course. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have suggested it. But this was not comparable. This was an insatiable feeling he needed to solve. But Bucky wasn’t ready for that. He needed to take it slow. That kind of humiliation he experienced wasn’t the kind that could go away with just really good sex.  It needed to be healed with patience and kindness and nurture.

Bucky however, was growing more and more antsy by the day (which Steve hadn’t even a clue of). When Steve used his hands to fix something, Bucky’s body jolted. Every time he wore one of his tight button up shirts nearly bursting at his pecks, Bucky had to fight to keep his composure.

But of course, in typical Steve and Bucky fashion, neither one shared their feelings. It wasn’t like the night Steve suggested taking their kissing further, this was unabashed and pure desire. And both of them felt weird about bringing it up. Natasha, however who was an excellent observer due to her years of training could smell the desire from a mile away. She knew Steve well, and knew Bucky on a level others didn’t; and much like everything else with the two of them, she knew there was something they were itching to say to each other that they were internally fighting against. So during a sparing session with Steve, she decided to test out her theory.

“You have sex with Barnes yet?”

Steve’s face shot up so quick that Natasha was able to flip him and send him pummeling to the ground with a loud thump.

“Huh?”

“You want to have sex with him.”

“I- what? How-“

“Not blind, Rogers” she spoke as she offered a hand and helped pull him up.

Steve was woefully stunned into silence. His jaw was dropped slightly, and his eyes were wide like a deer caught in headlights.

Natasha laughed and patted his hand, “Okay. Are you waiting for his conformation, or your own?”

“I-“

“His, okay. Can I give you some advice?”

He nodded.

“Just go for it. Just do it. I get that you know he’s traumatized and that you wanna be patient, but if the okay is more for you than it is for him, you’re scared of hurting him, while he’s scared you’re afraid to touch him. Show him you’re not afraid. Even if you are. He may have seemed breakable before, but he’s healing and you know it. You’ve waited a long time for this, just enjoy it dammit.”

Oh. Okay. He guessed that was the confirmation he was waiting for.

Still at a loss for words he nodded, and with a casual pat to his chest, Natasha left.

Steve stood there and watched her go, mentally running through all the ways he could initiate something with Bucky tonight. Every option was conceded after being deemed too forward, not forward enough, intimidating, or not caring. It seemed he could find no balance, and despite being a little reckless, Steve usually had a plan.

Luckily, by the time night fell upon them, Steve’s brain was too exhausted from all the options which meant his mouth would start working faster than his brain.

As Steve sat next to Bucky on his bed, a book held in his metal hand as his eyes scanned the page, the words just fell out of his mouth.

“Bucky do you wanna have sex tonight?”

Fuck. That was not one of the options he had run through.

Bucky stared at him in surprise, mouth slightly parted. He just looked at him for a moment that Steve deemed too long before he responded.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that-“

“Yes.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up.

“You- you want to?”

“Yes.”

He wanted Bucky to say yes. But shit. His bark was louder than his bite and suddenly he’d forgotten any and all steps of intercourse that he’d known- even as a virgin. Steve wasn’t uneducated (mainly thanks to Bucky).

“So…” he began.

“So…” Bucky continued, a little bit of his old self showing as he smirked coolly, leaning a bit on his elbow and turning to face Steve.

Steve looked like a deer caught in headlights, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulped nervously.

“Jesus, punk, c’mere.” He laughed and leaned in to cup Steve’s cheek and pull him for a sweet kiss.”

Steve was surprised by Bucky’s initiation but he didn’t question it. He was almost glad he didn’t have to do the heavy lifting. Bucky was always more well-versed in these kinds of affairs.

The kiss grew more passionate as the seconds wore on, their tongues intertwining and softly grazing each other. Their lips maneuvering around and getting more and more heated.

“Fuck,” Steve said breathlessly, mind growing more incapable with each sensual kiss.

“What do you want me to do?” Bucky said, mirroring Steve’s tone; hungry to please.

“I want you, to sit pretty, and let me make love to you.” The words came out confidently, surprising him.

Bucky paused the kiss, uncertainty lacing his features as if suddenly something broke him out of the trance he was in.

“But- but what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, Buck, I’m taking care of you.”

Bucky was stilled, confusion on his face as he tried to process Steve’s words.

“But I need to please you. I have to.”

“Have to?”

Bucky wasn’t used to getting nice things without having to do something in return. Hydra had taught him that, and Steve realized that quickly.

“Buck, you don’t have to do anything. You just sitting here looking at me like that is making me wild. Let me take care of you. Please.”

Still uncertain, nervous, and anxious, but trusting Steve, Bucky nodded.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Okay.” Bucky spoke quietly.

With that confirmation, Steve smiled and slid down near the edge of the bed. Bucky’s legs were already slightly open, and he had moved into his back. Steve gently knelt in between Bucjy’s legs and looked down at him.

“You can tell me to stop. At any time.”

Bucky nodded, still with that uncertain look in his eyes.

“I mean it.” Steve spoke slightly more seriously.

Bucky nodded more seriously this time.

With that, Steve ever so slowly began to undo Bucky’s belt, taking his time to make sure Bucky knew he was gong at a gentle pace. He then tossed the belt off the bed and began to unzip Bucky’s pants. Bucky’s gasped softly at the feel of Steve’s hands unzipping his pants over his bulge, and Steve smiled down at him. Next, Steve slowly slid off Bucky’s pants down his legs and caressing the skin as he went. Bucky inhaled deeply at the sensation, looking almost uncomfortable at it. Steve noticed his reaction and quickly paused.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, just, feels good.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded.

“Do you need me to slow it down?”

“No, I just- it’s… so good.”

Steve laughed, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Bucky looked to the side, almost ashamed.

“I’m- im scared of how good it feels.”

Steve paused, sitting up straight and looking at Bucky. Instead of being as incredulous as he felt, he opted for what he felt Bucky would need in this situation.

“How can I help you? And I don’t want you to tell me I should decide, I want you to tell me what you want.”

Bucky gulped and thought for a moment. His brain was telling him he shouldn’t accept all this pleasure, that he wasn’t deserving of it. But Steve’s eyes told a different story. The bore into Bucky’s as if saying “Hydra took so much from you, don’t let them take your pleasure away.” And so against his negative thoughts, he internally nodded and his eyes moved back to Steve’s.

“I want you to keep going.”

Steve’s face morphed into a wide smile, that couldn’t seem prouder if he tried.

“Okay.”

With that, he continued pulling Bucky’s pants down, eyes widening as Bucky’s large bulge grew in size the more Steve worked his way down. When they were finally off, Steve stared at his boxers, ready for the next step. He wordlessly began massaging the bulge through Bucky’s boxers, making the other man let out a deeply pleasured moan.

“How’s that?”

“G-good.” Bucky said, his eyes fixated on Steve he continued to palm the bulge that was quickly wetting the boxers with precum.”

Ever so tentatively, Steve began to slide the boxers down Bucky’s legs, leaving a trail of kisses in the absence causing Bucky to let out a shuddering breath. Steve continued kissing his way down until the boxers were all the way off and tossed off the bed.

He crawled forward, repositioning himself between Bucky’s legs in a more comfortable way, and was now face to face with Bucky’s soaked member. He never dared to imagine it, but if he had, it was even larger than he expected. It was thick and long and looked like it was in desperate need of attention which Steve was happy to provide. Steve leaned down at the upright member in front of him, opened his mouth, and sank down. Immediately, a moan escaped Bucky’s mouth as his back arched from the bed. 

Steve ran his tongue around the rim of his tip making Bucky throw his head back in ecstasy. Steve continued sinking his mouth further down his length, delighting in the sounds escaping his mouth.

“Mmhm yeah, just like that.”

Steve continued going up and down in his medium paced rhythm which seemed to be pleasing Bucky. However as more breathy gasps escaped Bucky’s mouth, Steve decided to suck harder to elicit more of the delicious sounds.

Bucky bit his lip to stifle a moan, but Steve wanted to hear it. He was hungry for it.

“Don’t hold back, let me hear you.”

Bucky immediately released a deep moan, straight from his chest, and Steve swore he felt his own dick get harder.

Steve had to pause for air as he was getting more aroused by the second. He leaned off of Bucky’s length and panted as he licked his lips.

“I’ve been,” he spoke in between aroused breaths, “Waiting to taste you from the moment I fell in love with you. And dammit, I didn’t even know it.”

Bucky laughed lightly, also panting as Steve wasted no time getting back into devouring his partner. The super soldier stamina did wonders for his endurance, and he was positive if he didn’t already have precum in his pants just from getting Bucky off, he could go all night. However he could see that Bucky wasn’t going to last much longer.

Despite the super soldier serum, Bucky’s body still held his sexual trauma, and he’d come faster than Steve knew he’d want to. But he didn’t mind. What mattered was giving Bucky the pleasure he deserved. They could build up the length of their sessions later. (That and for the very first time they were having any form of sexual interaction, Steve was also very close despite the serum.)

Teetering on the edge, breaths getting more ragged and moans coming from deeper in his body, Bucky placed a hand on Steve’s chest with a pleading look in his eyes to wordlessly stop him.

Steve immediately did and stared down at Bucky with anticipation and slight worry.

“T-take me inside you.”

Steve was not expecting that.

Not that he didn’t want to. Holy fuck, he wanted to. This was his initial idea for the night but now he was face to face with it. But dammit he was getting harder by the minute just looking at Bucky’s kiss-swollen lips and messy hair. If Bucky wanted to come inside him, Steve knew with a little work, he could try and come at the same time.

Without a second thought, Steve nods and slips off his own pants oh an excitement normally only seen by puppies when their owner comes home.

Bucky is immediately met with the sight of his throbbing cock- massive, hard, and dripping. He almost came from the sheer sight.

Steve, although not well-versed; knew he had to take the initiative to make Bucky more comfortable.

“Lift your hips for me.” He spoke gently, but with a confidence that eased Bucky.

Bucky did as Steve requested, lifting his hips. Steve put two fingers inside his mouths, setting them with saliva. Bucky’s cock twitched at the sight.

Steve gently slid the now wet fingers inside Bucky’s ass which caused an almost pained moan out of Bucky’s mouth. However, Steve saw the absolute pleasure within his eyes which let him know he wasn’t in pain. Slowly, he slid them out and gently replaced them with his cock.

“Oh shit,” Bucky breathed, the amount of pleasure flooding his senses almost unimaginable to a soldier whose closest thing to intimacy was being laughed at through cell walls.

Bucky heard Ssteve moan deeply when he hit his G spot. Quickly, they fell back into their rhythm, but this time, Bucky also made a point of stroking Steve’s cock. He wanted to come at the same time.

It didn’t take very long. Their months of pent up pining, underlying sexual desire had finally caught up with them.

“Shit Steve I’m gonna-“ his words were cut off by an unbelievable amount of pleasure coursing through him; Steve was quick to follow as Bucky gave him one, two, three strong strokes sending him through a wave of pleasure that caused his whole body to shudder.

“Oh fuck,” Steve near shouted, sheen of sweat coating his body as Bucky stroked him through his orgasm. Bucky also rode himself through his own orgasm, only pulling out of Steve once every last drop of his cum was out.

The two collapsed, Steve practically crushing Bucky as he lay on top of the other man, panting with a level super soldiers usually did not.

After they had both finally caught their breath, Steve opened his mouth to speak first.

“That. Was amazing.”

He looked down for Bucky to respond, but his face dropped when he saw Bucky’s face turned away, and a light sniffle come from hind

“Hey, hey,” Steve said immediately, coming off of him and nestling by his side ,”What happened? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Bucky sister his gaze but he shook his head with another sniffle, a single tear rolling off his face and into the bedsheet.

“no. No. I just- I didn’t feel like I was allowed to have that. And you gave me it. And u don’t know how to repay you for that.”

Steve sighed with a level of sadness he’d never expected his face to carry.

“you don’t have to repay me for anything. Ever. I’m here for you, I’m here with you,8 love you. And that’s all I need.”

Bucky laughed slightly, brushing a tear away.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve responded with a nod and Gentle smile.”

“Damn we gotta get cleaned up,” Bucky laughed, seeing the cum that was all over his stomach and Steve’s.l

“Nah, I’ll get us cleaned up. You just sit here and relax.”

He pressed a kiss to his forehead and quietly entered the bathroom. A minute later, he came back out with a warm damp towel and started dabbing himself clean. He then knelt between Bucky’s legs on the bed? And wiped him down ever so gently. Bucky breathed a sigh of relief at the gentle sensation.

“You okay?“ Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky responded? Making eye contact with Steve’s kind eyes.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Of course I do. And I always will.” He leaned for word and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s sternum after he wiped his own cum off of it.

After they had successfully cleaned up, Steve collapsed at Bucky’s side with a comfortable sigh.

After a beat, he felt an urge to be closer. A feeling that he wanted to elongate their intimacy a little longer.

“Can I… feel you?”

It was a weirdly worded request that made Bucky’s eyes furrow in minor confusion.

“Feel me?”

“Yeah, just… feel you.”

Not really knowing what that entailed, but not doubting how good he was sure it would feel, he nodded and let Steve reach forward.

Steve caressed his arms first, taking his time with the flesh one, grazing his fingers gently across the skin leaving little goosebumps in its wake.

He moved to Bucky’s back, just feeling and admiring the rippling muscles and ridges that were along it. He hummed in content, watching the way the other man’s shoulders released and his back relaxed.

“I like touching you.” Steve said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I like being touched.” Bucky said, actually whispering. He’d never said something like that before. Every touch he’d ever known in the past seventy years was one of punishment, even the touches he gave to himself. He had forgotten what it felt like to feel gentle hands on him, taking their time appreciating him, and not flinching at scars or proofs of his tortured past.

Steve matched his tone, “You do?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, making honest eye contact with Steve.

Steve continued feeling Bucky, going down to his ass and upper thigh, caressing gently without any semblance of sexual means. He just wanted to touch. Feel. Appreciate him in ways he knew he’d never felt.

Bucky hummed in approval, reaching out lazily for Steve’s other hand and holding it near his face. As Steve traced back up Bucky’s side, over his ribs and the small area of his chest that was visible from where Bucky lay on his stomach, he outlined small circles on it, smiling as he felt the scarred skin relax in relief. Bucky gently brought Steve’s hand in his metal one to his lips for a gentle, now sleepy kiss, and held his hand there for a moment; just enjoying the feel of soft skin against kiss-swollen lips.

“I like when you hold my hand with your metal one.”

Bucky was almost surprised at that, giving a  “hm” with his slightly furrowed brow.

“It’s cold. We both run hot. It’s nice.”

Bucky smiled, lips curving upward all red and still wet. He grasped Steve’s hand tighter.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Chapter Text

“Oh my God not again.” Tony said, rubbing a hand down his face in the living room.

“Third time today now?” Natasha said in mild disbelief as she drank a glass of water.

“Zero awareness for two people with heightened senses.”

“They’re enjoying each others’ company!” Thor boomed from the couch with a fistful of popcorn in his mouth, “Good for them.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “At least do it where no one can hear you dammit.”

Steve shuddered over Bucky, coming with a loud groan and collapsing on top of him. Bucky arched into Steve and came a second later with a soft sigh and fell back onto his pillow.

“Thank goodness for our stamina,” Steve laughed once they had come down from their high.

“Thank goodness.” Bucky said, smiling at him.

“You know, we haven’t been on a date yet.”

“Huh?” Bucky said, smiling at the absolute non sequitur of a statement.

“We haven’t been on a proper date. Like the ones we’d do in the forties. Food and dancing. Or the cinema.”

“We haven’t done that because people would see us, Steve.”

“And?”

“I’m the former Winter Soldier and you’re Captain America.”

“Okay?”

Steve had a penchant for breaking the rules. He had always been one to rebel, but Bucky knew this wasn’t logical; and it wasn’t smart.

“Steve. You know we can’t do public things. People will talk.”

“So what if they do?”

“You’re Captain America. They trust you, they need someone they trust.”

“They can trust you.”

“But they don’t know that. And I don’t even trust me. How on earth would the outside world do that?”

“I’m very persuasive.” Steve smirked.

Bucky laughed, “You never did know when to quit.”

“Never will.” He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s lips, earning a small smile from the other man.

“Well I wish you the best of luck.”

“Don’t need it.”

They were quickly interrupted by Tony’s voice at the door.

“I have a multi-billion dollar sound proof room down the hallway. Have some decency and use it! And Cap, emergency press conference. Ten minutes. That damn reporter from the Times is coming.”

Steve groaned, his mind halfway on Bucky’s lips even as he stared in annoyance at the ceiling.

“Really? No warning?”

“I promise I genuinely tried to ward them off, but they said- and I quote- “we haven’t heard from the avengers since the sokovia accords, are they even still together?” Which, clearly, we are.”

“A dysfunctional couple still fighting damn divorce allegations.”

“And for some reason you’re the only one allowed to handle the press.”

“You think that might have something to do with the time you you told Pepper- into the mic I might add- while she was standing off to the side that her breasts looked particularly good that day?”

“Press doesn’t appreciate honesty, but I don’t do lies.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I’ll be there in ten.”

With that, Tony’s footsteps walked away and Steve sighed deeply, pushing the bedsheet off of him.

“Guess the moment’s over,” Bucky smiled lightly.

“Shouldn’t take long, I’ll be back soon. Answer their questions quickly, ward off the particularly asshole journalists and be back before you know it.”

“Keep dreaming, handsome.” He smirked as Steve leaned down to kiss his lips.

“And I might have an idea,” Steve said, looking away and pondering.

Bucky quickly caught on, “Steve please don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not. I’m going to be very calculated,” he said with another kiss.

He stood up, quickly getting dressed into a clean shirt, and some well-fitting jeans. He could feel Bucky’s eyes on his ass and turned around, zipping them up.

“Like what you see?”

“That’s America’s ass.”

“Thirty minutes max, and it’s all yours.”

“Always frustratingly optimistic.”

“Gotta be. Got somebody to come back to,” he said with a wink, slipping out the door.

He walked down the hallway to the conference room which was already abuzz and immediately even more when Steve walked in. Cameras flashed, reporters shouted, and Pepper stood on the side, apologetic look on her face. Steve shook his head dismissively with a wave of his hand, letting her know it was okay and he was well equipped to handle this.

He stepped over to the single chair behind the press table and sat down confidently.

“Alright, hit me.”

Immediately, there was clamoring, and hand raising, and Steve- almost teacher like- looked for the one with the quietest hand.

Dammit.

That reporter from the Times.

He pointed to her, stifling a sigh.

“Yes, you.”

She stood up, poised, polished, every bit the seasoned reporter whom Steve knew would ask overly personal questions, disguised as “good journalism” but laced with condescension and a deep desire for gossip.

“Trisha Maddox, The Times. Any comment on your previous argument with Tony Stark over the Sokovia Accords?”

He sighed internally, already prepping his very PR-trained answer.

“Tony and I may not always see eye to eye on things, but I think we can both agree we should’ve gone about our disagreement better, and I can assure you, you don’t need to lose faith in our team. The avengers are stronger than ever, and I promise you have nothing to worry about.”

Immediately, there was more clamoring, but Trisha wasn’t done.

“Another question, Mr. Rogers. You were recently seen out and about with the former Winter Soldier. He is a known dangerous individual. Are you not afraid of potential harm that could do to the avengers image, or even the safety of people?”

He clenched his jaw. Who had seen him and Bucky at Sunset Boulevard? He knew people would be afraid. He understood that. But worrying about the image? Saying he is a “known dangerous man”? Steve wasn’t a fan of that.

“If you’re asking about Bucky Barnes, yes I went out with him to see a show. That was part of my efforts to help him assimilate back into society after being completely brainwashed by HYDRA. Giving him a sense of normalcy was essential to his recovery, which he has done. He’s not dangerous. The Winter Soldier was, but Bucky Barnes is not that.”

“So you’re saying he isn’t dangerous?”

“That is what I am saying.“

“Is it not reckless to have the Winter Soldier on your team?”

“For the record, Bucky has not gone on any missions yet while we continue to help him heal and recover. We are not being reckless, we are cautious, but there is still no need to be worried.”

“It’s interesting that Captain America would decide to be close with such a dangerous individual, care to comment on that?”

That was it.

“I find it very amusing that you, a reporter for the Times are judging who I consider close because as I recall, your magazine made Adolf Hitler, a man who went against everything I and Bucky fought for, person of the year, correct?”

“I-“

“And, Bucky was the only Howling Commando to lay down his life for our country, which is what landed him into Hydra’s hands in the first place. Yet I don’t hear any condemnation of Hydra, or understanding that what the Winter Soldier did is separate from James Buchanan Barnes. Yes, you.”

He quickly pointed at another reporter, a sweet looking young man with glasses who stood up nervously.

“Michael Wesley, The Sun. You clearly care about Bucky, and it’s shown at the Smithsonian that you two had a close friendship. Do you think that friendship has translated into the now and is partially why you find yourself eager to defend him?” He quickly added, “Although he is worth defending,” as to not be the subject of Steve’s scarily calm wrath.

“Absolutely. I know Bucky well, and I can attest to his character. The Winter Soldier, and James Barnes are very different people.  Yes, you.”

Another reporter stood up, an older man, balding with glasses and an inquisitive gaze.

“Ray Clark, New York Daily. Adding onto the last question, there’s been a lot of speculation since the pictures of you and Mr. Barnes have resurfaced of things regarding your relationship going back as far as the nineteen forties. Do you have any comment on that?”

“Could you be more specific?” He was hoping for a chance in this press conference to make them public. He knew Bucky was skeptical. But someone had to be the optimist, and Steve liked making the active choice to believe in the good.

“Photos of you and Mr. Barnes in baseball caps taken a few months ago have recently began trending. The secrecy of your disguises which- forgive me for my bluntness Captain- are meager, has been making people wonder if whether you were just keeping your identities under wraps, or something else under wraps entirely.”

He hadn’t thought about that. At that moment, he was truly focusing on keeping their identities hidden, but this was the perfect chance.

“When you say ‘something else’, elaborate.”

“We understand that the times may have been largely different back in your day, that that comfortability on this subject may feel taboo for you- even if there is truth- but the people want to know…” he struggled getting it out, clearly feeling a bit guilty for prying so hard, but his curiosity was fighting against that.

“The people want to know what?”

“If your feelings for Mr. Barnes are more than friendly.”

“If you’re asking if Mr. Barnes and I are romantically involved, then yes.”

The entire room gasped, and then silenced in shock; only for a moment before the clamoring began anew and even louder.

“That’s all for now, thank you.”

With that, he stood up, leaving the reporters itching with questions, throwing a bemused Pepper a nod and small smirk as he exited the door. She followed close behind him and then the two veered off.

As Steve walked down another hallway he heard Tony’s booming voice upon Pepper entering his frame of view.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? ROGERS CAN DO THAT BUT I CANT?”

“Tony we had no idea he’d do any of that.”

Steve laughed quietly to himself. Tony had been watching the press conference live, growing more and more shocked at Steve’s audacity.

“He dissed an entire reporters opinion in front of everyone in the room, on a live press conference!”

“You’re talking like you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“I would! That’s why I’m mad,” he said, pouting.

Pepper smiled at his antics, stepping closer and cupping his face, and giving him a kiss.

“It’s his first offense. You’ve always been too blunt with the press, baby.”

Tony sighed, “Whatever. Can’t be too mad at people who just discovered their love is legal.”

“That’s right,” Pepper smiled, leaning in to kiss him again.

Steve smiled widely, heading to Bucky’s and his room.

As soon as he got there, he opened the door and smirked.

“You and I, dinner, this Friday. Seven o’clock sharp, that fancy place on 47th.”

“What did you do.”

“Not important,” he said as he walked to the edge of the bed and leaned forward to kiss Bucky sweetly (with an undertone of smugness), “What’s important is that we’re going on a real date.”

“I feel like I need to be worried about whatever it is that you did.”

“Nope. I don’t want you to worry about a thing.”

Chapter Text

“This is actually ridiculous,” Bucky muttered quietly to himself as he buttoned a crisp crimson button up in front of the bedroom mirror. His hair was freshly washed and put in a half-up half-down to the best of his ability. The shirt almost bound his chest once fully buttoned, but damn it looked good. He rolled up his cuffs to his wrists and turned to the sides to study himself. His muscles were basically protruding out of the shirt, but it was one of the first times he had put on an outfit that felt good. It wasn’t classic 40s dress wear, but it was proper, clean, ironed, and a color he knew Steve loved on him. It felt almost homey.

Steve had insisted on meeting him in the living room instead of getting dressed together. It felt absurd and over the top, but Bucky went along with it. He wasn’t sure why Steve wanted to go all out, but if there was one thing everyone at the avengers tower knew, it was that Steve had a plan.

Bucky zipped up his dress pants, took one last look in the mirror and tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear before nodding to himself and turning to the door.

Before opening it, he hesitated. Some part of him was nervous about the word date. It felt so official. Like he and Steve had a word for what they were and what they were doing. It scared him. But he pressed on and opened the door, walking down the hallway to the living room.

When he reached, he saw Steve turned toward the large windows, shaking out his hands and fixing the creases (that weren’t there) in his blue button-up. It took him a moment to get out of his head before he saw Bucky’s reflection in the widows, snapping his head around to look at him.

“Woah.”

Bucky smiled, laughing lightly and bowing slightly with his arms out a little; “The shirt works, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Steve said walking toward him and cupping his face with a strong kiss.

“Head out?”

“Yep.” Steve gave Bucky his arm, to which Bucky rolled his eyes and took it.

“You were never this suave in the 40s.”

“I learned from the best.” He winked at Bucky who rolled his eyes lovingly and hipped him a little.

The two laughed as they made their way down the elevator and into the waiting car.

“A car? You really went all out, huh Rogers.”

“Wanted to make sure no one bothered us,” he shrugged with a casual smile.

“Lovesick.”

“You like it.”

“Piss off.”

Steve laughed and opened the car door with a gesture for Bucky to get inside. Bucky just smiled and rolled his eyes as he went in; Steve immediately behind him.

The ride was spent in comfortable silence, their specialty. Bucky slowly inched his hand toward Steve’s and Steve gave no reaction when Bucky’s finally touched his own; only a small smile while staring ahead.

When they reached their destination, Steve exited first and offered his hand which Bucky took.

“Nice place.”

Steve smirked and let out a breathy chuckle as he led Bucky inside.

Once inside, the hostess— extraordinarily bewildered at two super soldiers seemingly on a date— led them to their table in the back by a window. She handed them two menus and left with a quick nod. Steve and Bucky turned to each other and laughed.

“We’re gonna have to get used to that I’m assuming,” Bucky said.

Steve sighed meeting his gaze, “Unfortunately. But you’re here. Worth it.” He spoke, reaching for Bucky’s hand and caressing his knuckles.

Bucky smirked and scoffed, not responding, but letting Steve hold on.

“Too many options,” he mused quietly after perusing a second. “Back in our day it was boiled potatoes or starve.”

“Now days they have something called an air fryer.”

“Air fryer?”

“Not in restaurants, but you can buy one for home.”

“Why doesn’t Tony have one?”

“He never cooks. He always does takeout.”

“Maybe we get a little house and an air fryer.”

Steve paused a second too long for comfort. Bucky realized what he had said. Was it too soon? Despite them already having had sex?

“Or- or not. I mean, I was just-“

“I’d love that.” Steve said brushing his lips against Bucky’s knuckles.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I would.”

A chirpy young waitress with brown hair made her way over to them, freezing only slightly when she saw the two of them.

“Hi, I’m Madelyn and I’ll be your waitress tonight, can I start you guys off with anything?”

“Just two waters would be great,” Steve said.

“Okay perfect, I’ll give you guys a few more moments with the menu while I bring those out for you.”

The two nodded their thanks and turned back to each other.

“At least she was more subtle.”

Bucky laughed, twiddling his thumbs under the table now that the waitress had gone. A song started to play, something jazzy that reminded both of them of simpler times.

“Care for a dance, Sarge?” Steve said, standing and offering his hand to Bucky.

“Oh don’t call me that,” Bucky smirked, reaching for Steve’s outstretched hand with a roll of his eyes as he fell comfortably into his strong chest.

“Still as terrible as you were the day you last danced.”

“Well I’m taller now so I’m leading you.”

“The better dancer should lead.”

“Someone’s mad I beat you by one inch.”

“Someone still has two left feet,” Bucky smirked as he spun Steve in and dipped him slightly.

“Damn. I love you.”

It slipped out easily. He’d said it before. It felt so unbelievably natural that what happened next barely fazed him and only did so because of how completely and utterly earnestly it came out.

“I love you too, Rogers.”

Steve swore he felt his feet plant themselves into the floor where he stood. He had to stop his brain from short-circuiting as he stared at the man before him. So tortured, so hurt, and leaving himself bare for Steve by saying three words.

He very nearly responded, but he knew the beauty of the moment shouldn’t be touched, it should just be experienced. So he just stood there in Bucky’s arms, leaned forward, and kissed him. Neither of them cared about the onlookers, too enraptured in the ideas of air fryers in their own house to worry.

Chapter Text

It had been a few glorious months, and Steve had developed a new habit. Every time he and Bucky would hold hands, he’d unconsciously kiss the very bare ring finger on either hand of his. Genuinely, it was completely unconscious. So unconscious that it wasn’t till a snowy day in December when Steve found himself staring in a jewelry shop  and he raised Bucky’s metal hand to his mouth, as his eyes found a gorgeous diamond, he registered his new habit.

Bucky, ever the observer, noticed before Steve did. He’d smile and squeeze his hand back and go back to whatever they were doing. But the more he did it, the more Bucky realized it was the same place every time, the oh so bare area of his ring finger. It hadn’t even felt bare until Steve’s lips removed as quickly as they arrived from it.

Now, standing outside of a jewelry shop mid-December, Steve had an epiphany. He wanted to marry James Barnes.