Chapter Text
“So, they both won? But I thought the whole point was that only one person won?” Bucky glanced up at Steve over the top of the novel in his hands. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins was Steve’s newest recommendation and he was enjoying it, despite how gory it was but Bucky didn’t mind too much.
“Yeah, that’s the point, Buck, it was a rebellion against the Capitol, against the people in charge,” Steve told him, leaning away from the computer in front of him and sitting back in the creaky chair.
“So they’re in love? Or Peeta thinks they are?” Bucky looked back down at the page, a small frown on his face.
“Well, people think different things. They used love to become popular, it was a tragic story that they were lovers but both got put in the games, they convinced people they were in love but I don’t think they were.”
“I feel like you could carry on, don’t let me stop you by all means.”
Steve rolled his eyes, turning the chair to face Bucky, who was settled in a chair similar to Steve’s, legs spread, book curled in his gloved hands. He had cut his hair short when the weather started getting too warm, the July heat unforgiving in the city. He still wore dark jeans, heavy boots, a random t-shirt that he had probably borrowed from Steve layered over a dark, long-sleeved top. It annoyed Steve to no end that even if Steve’s ugly thrifted t-shirts, Bucky still looked hot.
They had been dating for a few months now, Steve didn’t know if boyfriends was the right term; Bucky liked the term ‘partner’, which was more than fine with Steve. It had been nice, they seen each other through the seasons, they had spent Bucky’s birthday together, it wasn’t much but they saw a movie, ate at a 50s diner Bucky liked, had sex in Steve’s apartment and woke up together the next day, happy and full of love. Now, pushing into summer and things were still going really well.
Bucky was unlike any guy he had dated before. He was attentive, charming, he listened to what Steve had to say. He didn’t treat him like he was made of glass, that was the best bit. They would play fight in Steve’s apartment and it wouldn’t stop until one of them had the other pinned on his back, breathing heavily and grinning at each other. It usually ended in something much better than play fighting but Steve didn’t like to kiss and tell.
There were some things that Steve wanted to ask about but he just never found the right time. Bucky sometimes told him that he was visiting family and that he would be away for a few days and come back exhausted a few days later. Sometimes he would jolt awake at night when he slept at Steve’s and just sit panting in the dark, shaking ever so slightly. Steve caught him once, waking up but Bucky just pressed a kiss to his temple and told him he just wasn’t feeling too well.
Steve had also never seen Bucky without his shirt off, which was bizarre because they had had sex, but he had just kept his shirt on, and it ws dark anyway so Steve couldn’t really see much anyway.
He didn’t want to pry. Bucky had seen Steve at his worst, after a rainy week and the pressure got to Steve’s chest and he would spend a week in bed struggling to breathe. Steve wanted Bucky to see all of him, but he wanted it to be a two-way street. He was patient, Bucky had admitted that he hadn’t really dated men before so Steve went easy on him, letting them move at Bucky’s pace.
But he really wanted to know where he disappeared to, why he woke in the middle of the night, why he covered himself. He wanted to know all of it, because admittedly he was falling hard and fast for Bucky and his easy smile and flirty charm.
Steve looked over at Bucky, who had gone back to reading. It was a Friday evening, the streets were busy with people meeting friends, with kids playing, with life, but the library was quiet. The youth group had ended not too long ago, Sam lingering to chat to the pair. Sam and Bucky got on surprisingly well, despite how much they bickered with each other. They didn’t agree on anything except that Steve was a danger to himself sometimes. Sam left them with a wave, disappearing into the warm air.
“You wanna order from that Thai place tonight? I don’t know if I can be bothered to cook,” Steve told him, leaning back in his chair, sliding his boot covered feet forward and tapping the tips of his boots against Buckys. He glanced up, catching Bucky’s eye and smiling when his partner smiled back.
“The place that does the mango rice?” Bucky asked, knocking their boots together again, closing the book in his hands with a soft slap of pages.
“Yeah, I want their crab cakes, or maybe the beef noodles,” Steve stood up as he spoke, starting to tidy up the desk. It was getting close to closing now, he had finished all his stock checks and returns a while ago.
“The beef noodles are always good,” Bucky commented, pushing his book in the backpack that was shoved under the desk. He had taken it out yesterday on Steve’s card, he still hadn’t gotten a card himself. His reasoning was why would he need one if he had Steve?
“I kinda wanna try something new but- just pass me that folder please, yeah the beef dishes are always so good,” Steve took the folder that was passed to him, quickly slipping it in one of the desk drawers.
“I’m gonna go grab your jacket, let you finish up before we head out,” Bucky pressed a kiss to his temple as he left the front desk, heading down a corridor and out of sight. Steve quickly finished shutting everything down for the night, collecting his things and hefting his backpack up on to his left shoulder.
He heard Bucky’s boots before he felt his presence behind him, taking the backpack off his shoulder with one hand and handing him his jacket.
“It’s too hot to wear a jacket, Buck, gimme the bag,” Steve reached for it, frowning when Bucky moved it out of his reach, “gimme the bag, Barnes.”
“Come and get it, Rogers,” Bucky grinned, shaking the bag slightly where it hung suspended from his fingers.
They tussled for a bit, laughing breathlessly as they fought, Steve pink-cheeked when he finally got the bag off him.
“Asshole,” he tugged him down by his shirt collar, kissing him gently.
“You love it really, Rogers,” Bucky grinned, ducking for another kiss.
“Let’s get out of here.” Steve did love it, but Bucky didn’t need to know that just yet.
They closed up quickly, the heat of the day slowly giving way to a breeze that was close enough to chilly that Steve was thankful for the jacket. Bucky slipped his hand into Steve’s as they started walking to the bus stop, idly chatting about what book he should be reading next (Bucky thought Catching Fire but Steve thought Interview with a Vampire). They turned on to the main street, the sun just starting to disappear behind the buildings. It was peaceful; warm and quiet in a way that made Steve feel like he was on cloud 9.
They quickly crossed the street, sidestepping a group of teenagers before turning a corner. They had been chatting quietly, heads ducked down towards each other and didn’t see the group of four men until they bumped into each other.
Steve stumbled back, being shoved by one of the men. He was only kept up by Bucky who was still holding his hand. He glared up at the group, eyes falling to one of the men, a man he recognised.
“Aren’t you the little asshole I beat the shit out of at Christmas? You come back for another beating?” The man was taller than Steve, taller than Bucky as well.
Steve was about to reply when Bucky squeezed his hand, starting to walk and tug him along, “let’s just go, he’s not worth your time, Steve,” Bucky told him quietly, tugging him slightly harder. One of the men stepped in front of Bucky, shoving him backwards.
“You bring your boyfriend to get his ass beat as well? How nice,” the man grinned, cracking his knuckles. A silence fell over them, Steve and the man glaring at each other before he spoke.
“Yeah, Buck, an asshole like this isn’t worth my time,” Steve felt Bucky tense beside him before the fist connected with Steve’s jaw. There was a rush of movement, Steve hit the floor, his hand now slipping from Bucky’s grasp. He tried to get up but felt a boot connect with his stomach, the wind rushing out of him, it happened a few more times. He tried to kick back but the boot suddenly disappeared.
Steve quickly regained his sense, scrabbling to his feet and raising his fists. But the group of four men were already on the floor, in various states of consciousness. Steve glanced around, but zeroed in on Bucky, stood amongst the fallen bodies, chest heavily, fists clenched.
He looked zoned out, but Steve called out his name and that seemed to snap him out of whatever it was that made him distant. He rushed over, taking Steve’s face in his hands like he did the first time he saw Steve beat up.
“God, Steve, why the fuck did you rile him up?” Bucky frowned, wiping some of the blood off his face. His nose had started bleeding, a bruise covering his jaw where he was punched.
“Because he was an asshole, how did you manage to take down four of them?” Steve asked, wincing slightly. He looked down over Bucky, freezing when he saw a rip in Bucky’s left sleeve, showing a sliver of gleaming metal. Steve reached up, stroking his hand over Bucky’s forearm, frowning as he thumbed the ripped fabric.
Bucky flinched and jerked his hands away, covering the rip. He looked up from his sleeve, meeting Steve’s gaze. He looked guilty, scared, like he wanted to run away.
“I.. I didn’t know you had a pros-”
“I have to go. I’m sorry, Steve.”
Steve blinked and he was gone, making his way down the street, moving faster than Steve had seen him move before. He called out but Bucky ignored him, or maybe he didn’t hear him. He didn’t turn round, just turned the corner and disappeared from his sight.
Groans from the men started to sound from behind. Steve grabbed his backpack from the floor, the adrenaline slowly wearing down from the fight. Steve saw the bus pull up, running to catch it. He made his way back to his apartment, his mind racing as he closed the door, letting his backpack drop the floor in the quiet apartment.
He pulled his phone out, bringing up Bucky’s number and calling. It rang but he didn’t answer. He sighed and rang again, but it just rang out again.
He quickly sent him a text, “Bucky, please call me, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
-
It was two weeks before Steve heard anything again.
The library had been closed for a week for some renovations, they were redoing the children area and painting the walls. Some water had leaked in during winter and peeled the paint in the back, near the archives section.
Steve had spent the week trying not to worry about Bucky. He had had radio silence since the fight. His bruise had faded, his nose still ached on occasion, so did his ribs but he had grown used to it.
He had sent a few texts, some more desperate than others. The hot weather and the radio silence made Steve irritable, stomping around his apartment on days when he wasn’t at work, finding himself scowling more often than not. He thought Bucky would have called him by now, or at the very least, text him.
The library opened up again after a week of renovations. Steve was glad to finally have a proper reason to leave his apartment instead of just wallowing in self pity. He was eager to see his coworkers, happy to see someone after a week with no Bucky. He easily slipped back into his routine, organising the shelves, sorting through new shipments, changing displays. It was refreshing to have something to do at last. He was still anxious, would Bucky still come in? Steve had sent him a short “the library is open tomorrow x” text the night before but there was still no reply.
Five o’clock came and went and soon it was closing time and Steve went home disappointed.
The same thing happened for the next few days. Steve would be anxious throughout the day, spending his time watching the clock and pacing nervously in different sections of the library. But, each day he went home disappointed and disheartened by the lack of Bucky. Doris had asked him if he was alright, if he wanted to head off early but Steve always shrugged it off, telling her that he was just feeling under the weather.
Steve woke up on Friday feeling less than optimistic. He dressed slowly, the heat keeping him from wearing anything too heavy. Ripped jeans and some random band t-shirt that he rolled the sleeves up. He left his apartment, barely making the bus in time, he had to run just to catch it.
Work was slow, seeing Sam and the youth group did lift his spirits slightly. He brushed off any questions about how he was feeling and ignored the ones about Bucky. Sam just told him that he wouldn’t pry and that he hoped everything would work out okay.
Doris had already left for the day when Steve started to close up, promising a loaf of banana bread for him on Monday morning. He was just closing down the front computer when he heard the door open. He glanced up, freezing when he saw Bucky standing in the doorway.
Neither of them spoke for a few moments, Steve trying to get words out but Bucky beat him to it.
“I have some explaining to do,” Bucky spoke, his voice quiet in the empty library. He looked small, hands clenched at his side, shoulders hunched.
“Let me finish closing up and we can go back to my apartment, okay?” Steve asked, relief flooding his chest when Bucky nodded. Steve sped through the close, grabbing his bag. He locked up, leading Bucky to the bus stop. They didn’t speak, just let a comfortable silence settle over them as they made their way back. They clambered on the bus, sitting shoulder to shoulder. Steve could feel the warmth through Bucky’s jacket, their thighs pressing together. Bucky looked tired, dark purple bags under his eyes, an invisible weight pressing down on his shoulders. Steve glanced at him, catching Bucky’s eye, and looking away, embarrassed to get caught staring.
They made it back to Steve’s apartment. He flicked the lights on, gesturing for Bucky to take a seat on the sofa. He set his bag down, making them a cup of coffee each, one sugar in Bucky’s, oat milk in Steve’s. He handed Bucky the cup, sitting down next to him, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Are you okay?” Steve asked before Bucky could even speak, gazing at the man in front of him. He gripped his cup tightly, the hot ceramic keeping him grounded. The soft evening light spilling through the windows and illuminating Bucky’s face. Steve’s heart ached, he had missed him so much. It was taking so much effort not to reach across and kiss him.
“I was just gonna ask you that,” Bucky’s mouth twitched, his eyes finally leaving the cup in his hands and meeting Steve’s, “you get away from those goons okay?”
“Yeah, thanks to you, Buck, had a busted lip for a few days but it was okay,” Steve already felt better from just hearing his voice, just being in his presence made breathing a little easier.
“God, I’m sorry I bolted, Steve, I just..” Bucky’s eyes fell back in his lap, “I want to explain everything, about why I haven’t been so truthful, okay? It’s a lot to take in.”
“I want to know, I’m not ever gonna judge your past, I don’t want you to just disappear again.”
Bucky moved his cup on to the table, shrugging his jacket off slowly, setting it to the side. He had on his usual dark red henley, still had his usual leather gloves on. Steve watched Bucky stop for a few moments before slowly peeling his gloves off, the sun glinting off the metal. Steve set his cup down next to Bucky’s, his breath stuck in his chest as Bucky slowly pulled his shirt off, the red fabric pooling in his lap.
The silver metal shone, the intricate plates sliding over each other when Bucky moved, clenching his fist and unclenching slowly. The pink flesh looked raw where it melded into the metal. The scarring ran across his chest, raised skin casting shadows.
Bucky didn’t look at Steve, keeping his eyes in his lap as he started to explain, “I was born in 1917 in Brooklyn. I fought in World War two, but I got captured and.. Well, experimented on is the easiest way to explain it. I was made into a weapon, I had a serum injected into me, it made me faster and stronger, made me live longer. For seventy years, I killed for them, for HYDRA. They were a Nazi science division. I did everything they asked of me, they kept me sedated most of the time or frozen in a cryogenic state. I was their greatest creation. I was everything they needed me to be, a murderer, an assassin, god, a monster. That’s what I was.”
Bucky took a few deep breaths, almost flinching when Steve reached over and took his hands in his own. Steve squeezed his hands, encouraging him without saying anything.
“When I fought in the war, I was part of a special team, the Howling Commandos, we were pretty highly respected and one day, I was in New York for a.. A job that HYDRA had me on. I was on the roof, waiting for the target and I just looked down through the glass and saw myself printed on the walls of the exhibit. It was the Howling Commandos staring right back at me. I was credited for being the only member to give his life during service. Something snapped in me, it was like I had been drowning and finally, I had a breath of air. I dropped everything, I ran away from everything. HYDRA tried to find me but I had a knack for disappearing. I was free.”
Bucky squeezed his hands, laughing suddenly, tears streaming down his cheeks. A burst of wet laughter rang out and Steve dragged him closer, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing. Steve felt Bucky’s arms slip around him, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder.
“So you coming to the library and reading history books was because you missed most of the twentieth century?” Steve asked quietly, overwhelmed by the story Bucky had just told him.
“Yeah, pretty much, I wasn’t allowed any real connection with the outside world, no TV, no radio, no newspapers, nothing. They kept me locked away when they weren’t using me.”
Steve pulled Bucky closer to his chest, feeling his own tears slide down his cheeks. He hid them in Bucky’s hair, sniffling quietly in the quiet room.
They stayed wrapped in each other for what felt like an hour, Steve keeping quiet as Bucky cried, soaking Steve’s shirt. They slowly pulled apart, Bucky keeping his head down. Steve reached out, cupping his cheeks with his hands.
“You’re not a monster, Bucky, it wasn’t your fault. What you did, you did because those monsters made you do it. You are a good man who had terrible things done to him. You’re a good man, Buck.”
Bucky’s lower lip trembled, more tears slipping down his cheeks, wetting Steve’s fingers.
“I don’t feel like one.”
“You didn’t have a choice,” Steve told him quietly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
They stayed curled on the sofa with each other the rest of the night, Bucky’s head pillowed on Steve’s chest as he spoke about his experiences. Steve reassured him, admittedly it was a lot to take in, but Steve knew Bucky was a good man.
They eventually ordered food after Steve heard Bucky’s stomach rumbling. They moved to Steve’s bedroom to eat, not caring about crumbs as they sat in Steve’s bed, the sun going down over them.
“I missed you, y’know, I really missed you,” Steve admitted after the sun had gone down, stroking a hand through Bucky’s hair. He kept his voice quiet, kissing Bucky’s temple after he finished speaking.
“I missed you too, I was going crazy for those two weeks but I just needed time to get my shit together and admit everything to you.”
“Just promise me you won’t disappear on me again, okay?”
“I reckon I can promise that,” Bucky answered, looking up at Steve, his handsome face showing that crooked smile that Steve loved.
“Good, because I really need you to finish the Twilight series so we can have a good, long talk about it.”