Chapter Text
1939
Light rippled through the curtains, it was his usual wake up call but there seemed to be something on him preventing him from the ability to get up, there was also that half asleep feeling you get. Someone with Blonde hair was groaning, holding on tight to him. Wrapped around him, and funny enough it was Steve
Because for three years Steve had always been around, sure he had been around for longer. Far longer, something happened when Bucky turned seventeen, a slight shift in the earth's access possibly. Something that for all the wrong reasons had made him want to reach out and touch, then never stop touching. Pull and pull until all that was Steve and all that was him had combined into a sort of pit complete with them intertwined. Like something from a si-if short story he would read.
Steve was certainly in his bed, where he wasn't supposed to be. Steve's own bed was at the other end of the room, in front of the of course they lived together but Steve's bed was across the way, where the curtains were currently flowing due to the open window and the movement of wind. The widow was open.
Neither of them needed to be Stoned to death, not with Steve's mother having died a few months before, they had too much on their plate.
And when Buck moved he felt it, that ache in his legs. Familiar and yet an alarm sounded that he was lost in enemy territory. This was not normal, this was not right. If he was going to inherit any of his Parents small, very small fortune (well, enough for them to purchase a car without too much debt) then he couldn't be going around with his Best friend, not like this. What the hell was Bucky doing, he had pummeled a kid for insinuating his precious Stevie was queer. It would be wrong to further such ideas.
He was going to hell for sure, Bucky screwed his eyes shut. Flip over, nothing bad will happen from flipping over. Steve was apparently conscious enough to wrap his arms around Bucky's torso, he had succeeded in spooning him. Bucky's head was facing the wall, there was no escape unless he planned on embarrassingly sliding down and out that way. Stevie would probably grab onto him and never let go. Or whine, or do something cute and he would be stuck.
What the hell were they doing? The window was open for God sakes, any kid or retired grandma with binoculars could look in and see them in bed together, naked and using simple context clues figure out what they were doing the night before.
What had they been doing? He remembered getting drunk, partially down at the Bar Steve liked, the same place Buck had got his tattoo. Yeah Stevie always liked going there, they had a few rounds. Then it was either fail at trying to get laid or back to their place, guess it had been a mix of the two.
Bucky tried to sit up. "This never has to happen again, just please let me have this." Steve said broken. Voice hoarse, oh please tell me the neighbors didn't hear us, Bucky thought throwing his arm over his eyes to block the light that illuminated his best friends golden outline.
"What day is it? You know I'm probably late for work. Did you turn off the alarm?"
"Last night I did, yeah. Always wakes us up too early and I wanted to sleep in."
"I'll ask what day it is and then I'll see weather or not to be mad at you or not."
"It's Sunday." "Good work Rogers, that means I'm off and you're not going to get yelled at."
Steve's hand went to his bicep, and squeezed. Bucky let out a breath, "I'm trying to pretend last night didn't happen. Could you not?"
"What's wrong with last night?" Innocent eyes, red lips. Was all Bucky saw. Nothing is wrong. He found himself wanting to say. Yeah he could just stay in his dumb little twin sized bed with Steve this morning, he could get up and make them Breakfast, they could do this for years, decades even.
Or he could wound up being shot like he knew he would, for these tendicies, these ideas.
They could die together like they were born together and all would be well with the world. "Knowing you Stevie you only slept with me because you get off on Breaking the law." It had the cadence of a joke, but sounded self depriving and blameful. How dare you taunt me with running your fingers through your hair. How dare you make those beautiful paintings of me, draw hearts where my fucking irises should be. How dare you pull down my collar and know how I like it because I've told you every time when I did it with a girl.
How dare you place your claws deep in the skin of my life and now I have no way of taking them out without hurting you.
"Cat's out of the bag, I'm in love with you Buck." Steve looked up at him with a boyish grin, the statement wasn't completely truthful It was the same way he would get talking about some dumb comic he liked.
All Bucky wanted to do was punch him. "This will not happen again."
"OK. Buck if that's what you want."
"You swear?"
"I swear."
Bucky proceeded to reach up and ruffle Steve's hair as if there had been no awkwarness between them, as if just the night before they hadn't shared something immensely intimate. Bucky got up and walked over to close the window, then went out for a smoke, Lord knew he needed it.
1944
You'd think two men who used to be two little boys going around and playing all sorts of tricks in order to con people out of a few bucks would be used to the charade, the hiding of it all. They had their act down perfectly. Which places did people never go? How can we sneak into each others rooms?
Everything was down to a perfect cadence. Stolen kisses during morning in some alley. Knowing glances when they were busy fighting. I'll protect you just stay in my line of sight, was often whispered between the lovers. Bucky would swear, whispering in his lovers ear while feeling his Stevie up. Nights when they had a nice place to stay, like that one long weekend in London where they hand enough time. Maybe then things would veer off into that direction. The direction they swore they would never go back to, that was five years ago. This was war. Time and place went out the window. All that mattered was how much time they had available.
Peggy Carter, as much as Bucky respected her, was a liability. Always lingering around Steve. Seemingly piling on her contraband lipstick in preparation to meet Steve. Always popping up in what was the middle of nowhere.
"She's on to us," Bucky brought up one night. They were walking through some forest in Germany, the rest of the Commandos were behind them and all having their own conversations. Bucky made sure he checked three times just to know they weren't listing to him and Steve.
"She doesn't know, she thinks I'm interested in her." Steve answered, and Bucky shook his head. As if that would make Bucky any less upset about her, "Well, are you?"
Steve readied his shield as they came around the corner assuming a Hydra agent might have been there, "She's not my type."
Well am I? "I just worry about you Stevie, you're gonna get a lot of girls hanging around if you keep this up." Before Steve could answer the fight started back up.
A week later after another successful mission they were back in with warm meals and warm beds. Bucky had been waiting all night for Steve to stop socializing, get off his ass and come over to see him so they could make some excuse and get the hell out of there.
Steve was with Peggy, of course he was so all Bucky found himself doing was nursing a beer. One turned into three, until enough time had passed that he was completely drunk. He felt a warm, solid hand on his bicep. "Kept me waiting Stevie." He trailed off.
The other man proceeded to do nothing but push him off in one direction, stating that his friend had too much and I'm getting him out of here. Bucky subconsciously smiled, he knew what that meant.
"Let me guess you're going to say my hearts not in it because I'm drunk." Steve covered his mouth so he couldn't let out and colorful tidbits like that and they found a quiet and concealed place. Where they proceeded to kiss each other's faces off.
Steve had him up against the wall for most of it, with his massive hands that he would probably break a girl with. And he was kissing him rough. Bucky knew that meant that for the past week they had been out every moment Steve's eyes lingered on his he had been wanting to do this, craving it.
His legs were getting wobbly for some reason, usually he had more strength in these situations. Steve was still wearing his uniform. More like a beautiful costume that got Bucky going in all the right places.
It was heaven, perfect and a godsend. They hadn't locked the closet door. Steve's fault because he had rushed this, they could have gone back to either of their given rooms, no just had to have his pants down in public. Bastard.
"Well I was saying just last week that we should swap all the guards to the other base. It doesn't make sense having our best men as a decoy." Peggy Carter.
It was too late before they could consider leaving each others grasp. Hell not only were they in a closet alone, and faces red. Their hands were all over each other. It felt just a split second after she was done talking to whoever she was talking to, the door was opened.
He'd never forget that look on her face, pure shock. Maybe a bit of terror mixed in there too. He had never once seen that face on Peggy, he was aware his face probably looked the same.
To both of their surprise she closed the door. Made an excuse to whoever she was with and turned around.
"Steve." He must have been shaking because Steve steadied him.
"Yeah? You OK Buck?" It wasn't just that they had encountered the worst moment of their lives. It was the trust they now had in her, anytime she wanted to she could let the world know they gave the wrong man the serum, forgot to make sure if he was a sissy first.
"Did you bring me to the closet that is the entrance for the super secret base?"
Steve's head plummeted into his neck. Bucky hitched his breath. "Yeah, messed up didn't I?"
"I still wanna sleep with you."
A laugh.
2016
Natasha had gotten in the night before, she was dressed casually and her hair had been dyed since Bucky had seen her last. Their meetings had been few and far between, the last time The Asset saw Natasha they had been fighting on oppisate sides of a war. She had a way about her, like how when she landed with in the stolen Quin-jet on Wakanda soil she exited not wearing any protective gear. He could see why Steve believed in Natasha, why they were so close.
The gun that was lying on the floor in his suite was hers, had her name on the left hand side and was created for her, to her standards presumably designed by Tony or the other scientist Bucky didn't hear about much.
It was breakfast in the Suite, they had not left in two days, they had not gone outside. Bucky had been on his best behavior in case anyone would decide The Asset needed to come into play once again. That his tools forged by Hydra would be better suited for the Avengers, or his old friend who he briefly remembered.
Either way this woman, who Steve had called in, who was trained as a Widow, had all the pieces of empathy crushed up in her soul the same way they had done to Bucky, cut from the same cloth was staring at him asking him what he wanted to drink.
The asset should have known this was a trick, the man whom he was fond of for undisclosed reasons, the man who he called Steve and not his fully given name Steven had not put to use the asset, so it must be this woman who would do such things. Did this Widow or ex-widow know that the asset primarily drank milk to keep his bones healthy in between all the freezing, to keep him alive, to keep him strong.
She was standing across from him at in the kitchen on one side of the island, Bucky, as the man called Steve called him was seated on one of the plush pleather stools. She wasn't staring at him but not looking away, as if telling him she knew what he was, but wasn't scared of him the way people only a few weeks back had been.
"Tea? Juice?" The woman called Natasha, whose true name was Natalia was asking him. He did not know how to respond, "Do you want something stronger Barnes? I can make you something,"
The asset knew that she was trained to behave any way her opponent wanted, she was being kind and collective, was this true? Or could she change at the drop of the hat, she was giving him so many options but what would happen if he got one wrong.
Those eyes he tried hard not to look away from her, her eyes seemed to be searching him even as she looked around the room, he tried to search her back a part of him only saw what he was lacking with as well, here lies a person who has more in common with me than anybody. Who was cut from the same thread, she has all the tools to destroy me and can if she wants to. Steve called her in, I enjoy his company, I should try hard to enjoy hers. These thoughts ran through the assets mind.
Natasha, the black widow, who had killed men her entire life and could surely kill him because he was not fully himself and had stopped training for two weeks, could if she wanted to do anything to him.
His brain was a mess of memories he wasn't certain were all his, some seemed very old and it appeared to him that he must have lived many lifetimes.
"Milk, if you have it," He finally answered, the words were spoken slowly and sounded weak on his parched lips. She delivered as fast as she could, turning back to the fridge and pulling out a clear white - glass container, only the finest and proceeded to pour it into one of the glass cups that were kept in a nearby cupboard.
Only a day in to staying with them and she knew where everything was, Bucky wondered if she had taken a tally of all of the things that were lying about the night before instead of sleeping, it would explain the bags under her eyes that she failed to hide. He questioned why as he drink, because they should have taught her well how to conceal herself with makeup.
Steve finally reentered the room, and that was good because maybe then the three of them would have something good to talk about, or Natasha and him could effectively interview him if that's what the goal was, Bucky sat in piece and drank his milk.
"So how's Sam?" She said making an alcoholic drink for herself, something that looked a lot like a white Russian but that she also added a few other ingredients to.
Sam was the third character in The Assets new life, the man had fought alongside him and Steve. Overall he seemed like a good man and reminded Bucky of men in his foggy memories, they were good men despite this. Sam was good, he hadn't betrayed Steve. All of them were good people at least they seemed even if they were holding him here in this secret country.
He drank his milk. Steve spoke up next to him, "Adjusting well he had to take a separate flight out from the others, he wanted to meet up with his family,"
"Ah," Natasha started, taking a sip of her drink, "Didn't know he had a family? Wouldn't it be good for him to step outside of the spotlight,"
The conversation continued and though Bucky was trying to pay attention he got extremely tired, if he didn't know better he would have thought that his drink had been spiked but Natasha was a friend of Steve's and seem like she wouldn't have done that to him.
"He will be reporting back to us in a few days," Steve left it at that.
It was then the world went black for Bucky as his head hit the kitchen counter.
The days that followed were much of a dream, He would get up and spend some time with Steve (who he assumed and widely regarded as his new handler,) then Natasha would make him breakfast and he would pass out, wake back up around dinnertime and work out some more then.
The routine was easy for him to follow, The Asset had always been good at following his orders, he was good at not asking questions. This scheduled afforded him some interesting dreams.
He would collapse at the kitchen island, which in hindsight he should have known better about eating Natasha's delicious food. And then when he woke he would be in his guest bed, sometimes even in Steve's room, however on those occasions it was clear nobody had been sharing a bed with him, The Asset should know. He would know if Steve had touched him, the warmth would be unbearable.
He dreamed about all sorts of things, his childhood or somebody's childhood, licking the paint off of toys and later throwing up. His hands (or sombodys hands) tieing the shoes of a girl much younger than him. There was nights of cotton candy, and parties.
Then there were darker things, all things that had happen at some point in his life and it started to make him question how one person could be alive for so long, he must be many different people all tied together with one string.
The man Steve appeared in most of these dreams or imaginations The Asset had. Appearing vastly different, a scrawny little kid, then a scrawny teenager and then what must have been the real Steve, taking down enemy troops in something that Bucky assumed was war.
It was a week into this routine that the man named Sam arrived, on another stolen Quin-jet, which made three of them parked illegally in Wakanda underneath the penthouse suite where the four of them would now call home for many years. Bucky had fought alongside the man and therefore he could not be that bad of a man, though the way he looked at Steve sometimes when they were having movie night Sam would look a bit too long at Steve, it made something in The Asset wasn't too happy about his Steve getting stared at. How uncomfortable a feeling.
To be so close to someone, feeling their body heat and all the flesh under their skin and not wanting to pull it off of them, not wanting to fight but rather drift under. To touch skin lovingly that he could only faintly remember. The asset was too scared to touch what could have ruined things, Natalia was easier, she held his hand sometimes when he woke up after her concoctions and he would feel lost, but she was a hard pill to swallow and with grading dark eyes made him second think her, the pain that rested behind them was very much the same of the same pain he saw behind his own eyes these days once looking in the mirror.
"Who am I?"
"You're my best friend Buck," Steve was busy in the kitchen making tea, when did Steve start drinking tea? Who knew (oh yes - a precaution for some reason after he was thawed, something like that? The asset couldn't remember).
Buck? Should he say Stevie back? The only memory of him using that word to call Steve was a bad one— not a bad memory so much but rather a confusing one, an embarrassing one, but there must be other times they had called each other these nicknames, The asset stood awkwardly. Stevie was still his— even if it was difficult to call him Stevie, even if neither of them knew why the hell they were still alive or that the universe had been kind enough to save them for each other, to make them timeless.
The best friend answer wasn't the one Buck— or The Asset was looking for, he wanted the truth. He wanted Steve to tell him he was a monster and for Natalia, Natasha? She seemed to be called both by Sam and Steve? The Asset was unsure. He wanted Nat to tell him if she was drugging him, she was an assassin, he wanted her to kill him if that was what it took for all these bad thoughts running through his head. Old memories cutting through his mind, some disgusting, some he was unable to think of. By far the best ones were the ones with Steve in them, the ones that he tried so hard to think of, holding a skinny boy that must have been a young Captain America to his chest and doing other things. Kissing behind cinemas in the bad parts of town and running from the cops when they would steal beer. Hiding said beer in his childhood bedroom where his sisters used to sneak into his bed— goddammit he had sisters, he had a life, he had a best friend who is still his best friend.
"Who am I really Steve?"
"You're my best friend Bucky, you're James Buchanan Barnes, you're a good man." This didn't comfort him, there was only distance, distance put there by Bucky, yet he had wanted to reach out, how would that work? Would Steve swat him away, there had been girls in the past, who was to say Steve didn't share a bed with Natasha the same way he did with 'Buck'. Who knew the amount of rooms in this suite? There was many things he didn't understand. He was still getting tired halfway through the day, so deadly tired, The Asset was starting to feel that way at the moment.
"Whoa-" Steve grabbed him before he fell forward and he knew then, there would be nobody experimenting on him for he hadn't drunk anything Nat could have given him and it must be a side effect, The Asset was paranoid. And all he wanted to do was sleep, rest in this strong mans arms and never leave.
"He has something in his system, I know this tech Steve. You have to let me get it out of his system!"
The voice was so loud it was hard for The Asset not to hear it, it was the first thing he heard upon waking and hard to block out, he could briefly remember going to bed sometime around midday, Steve went to lay down with him but was obviously not beside him now, Sam had been out testing some more of Shuri's gear, once he blinked, The Asset could hear another voice, clear as day. Did they know they would wake him?
"He's recovering fine." Steve started, but Nat cut him off, "There is people here that can help him, you know that,"
The words were still a blur in his mind, faintly he could here his parents arguing over something his father bought for him or one of his sisters. He sat up in bed, Steve's bed and rubbed his hand over his face, maybe he was dying but he would be dying knowing what love was for the first time in years, even if that love wasn't returned even if he had no right of understanding what that love meant.
He could hear a door slam, with his alerted hearing the footsteps were Steve's, he followed the other sounds in the suite and heard Natasha walk across the way and open up a window, The Asset was fully recharged and follow the sound of where he heard Natasha go.
She was sitting with her body on the windowsill smoking a cigarette outside so the smell wouldn't get picked up. She looked up at him, no sign of tears and why would there be? Why did he expect them?
"Ah, the boy is up." She took a drag and blew it out slow, he watched her. He had not had a cig since Bucharest he would be lying if he said one didn't sound nice.
"Wheres Steve?"
She looked out the window breathing in the smoke, "Dunno, took off and needed to blow off some steam."
"Oh."
"Do you smoke?"
A simple nod was all that The Asset would supply, she handed him a skinny cigarette and passed him the lighter, she trusted him with a lighter? Foolish widow.
"They are cheap, and shit Clint made me quit a long time ago, and Steve doesn't like me smoking either."
So they sat in silence and shared a smoke, "Your hair is getting long, would you mind if I cut it for you?"
"No."
He could ask if she was slowly poisoning his food, and if that was the reason he was falling asleep so often and getting so out of it, part of him feared he was dying, maybe this was the universes call, maybe she was using her master assassin skills and killing him slow like a Black Widow and her pray. They sat in silence for a good hour, and then the doorbell went off.
Sam sauntered in carrying one of Shuri's new prototypes she let him take back, upon looking at the two one sitting on the window sill and The Asset in front of the window, on the floor. Five ciggeret butts in a makeshift cardboard ashtray and the smell of cigarette smoke.
"Well I was going to tell you all about my day, but it seems you two kids got into your own trouble, you're a bad influence Natasha." Sam said, setting down his wing-suit prototype on the kitchen table they rarely used, the thing had place settings for ten.
"I am no such thing, Steve pissed me off."
The Asset pushed the conversation to the background and watched on the road below him as Steve pulled up on a motorcycle, The Asset found his eyes track the man as he walked into the building and listened intently do his footsteps coming up the stairs and twisting the key. Natasha had gone to her room, and Same was messing around on the Couch, The Asset hadn't movies. He was staring at the ashtray and cigarette butts Natasha left out, wondering if he, a grown man yet trapped as a machine would be scolded for smoking in this beautiful house.
There was faint memory of his mother scolding him for burning a mark into the wall of their apartment with a cigarette. But Steve walked over to him and sat down in front of him, and looked down at his indiscretions.
"You okay Buck?"
"Hmm?" He could not hear in that moment there was nothing but an endless loud noise.
1944
"You okay?" They were laying in bed, one bed, Steve's bed, he always had the nicer place to rest his head, with him being an honorary Captain and taking down Hydra with his bare hands. Anywhere they stayed, even military spots were equipped with the nicest rooms for the best of the best. Bucky was facing away from his lover, and while there was no reason to be facing away there was a feeling he could not overcome. It was an odd feeling he got when he believed that something terrible was about to happen, he got it a few years back when he thought his little Stevie wouldn't make the jump, and survive Red Skull.
Tomorrow they were set to take down Hydra's main base and Red Skull, if Steve thought he was worried about that he wasn't, they had no hiccups when it came to Hydra, things ran smoothly if not a little too well and they usually got out of take downs without a scratch, especially not a scratch on Steve.
"Just fine Stevie, why?"
"Do you know that you've been tossing and turning all night?"
"Yeah well got a lot on my mind."
It could be, and it was the fact that fucking Peggy Carter had walked in on them getting it on. Now while she had seemed to be supportive and if not anything other than purely embarrassed, who wouldn't be walking in on a scene like that? Now she knew, now somebody knew for certain and the macho look felt like a facade now. Bucky felt the pressure to hang around more girls, to look away from Peggy any chance there was.
"You won't talk to me about it?" Steve was always so clingy, holding onto Bucky now when he really didn't want his touch, he was already too warm with a pile of muscle weighing him down. It was worth it though and he would envy any others who got this privilege.
"You'll laugh at me."
Steve made a show to laugh at the audacity, "No I won't."
"I'm scared."
"What for tomorrow? You know I will always have you back, Buck."
"No not for tomorrow, for the rest of our lives."
2016
The Asset did not get scolded for the smoking, well maybe in a roundabout way. Everything had been fine they stayed up late playing a card game and then went to bed, this time in Buckys room but it felt less homey than Steve's.
Everything was normal until Steve took a deep breath and The Asset knew from many years what a disappointed sigh meant, "Buck we need to talk."
"What?"
"I think you need to stay here, in Wakanda with the people here, I think they can help you. Natasha, Sam and I are homesick and I think that it would be best if we gave it some space. I want you to know that you are my best friend and I do love you but, well you see Buck, I think you need some space to be a person again."
The rest of it the Asset tuned out, The Asset had failed another handler, The Asset should abort the mission, he would never be saved, he would never be cured.