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“He’s gonna be so mad.”
“One day will really fuck him up, Rogers.”
“You turn 100 exactly once.”
“Most people not at all.”
“Exactly!”
“He’ll be around for 200.”
“You can’t enjoy 200, Nat,” Steve lamented, as if that were common knowledge. He could nearly hear her rolling her eyes over the phone line.
“T’Challa said one day out and back in would fuck him up,” Natasha repeated, her voice stern but affectionate.
“I know that. Of course I know that. It’s unreasonable," Steve grumbled, watching his feet as he paced the lab floor.
“So unreasonable that you called me in the middle of the night to bitch about it," Natasha pointed out. Steve frowned.
“Wait, what timezone are you in?”
“Is it your birthday or his?”
“I thought you would be more sympathetic to this," Steve admitted. He didn't truly know what he wanted out of this phone call, though some small petulant voice within him may have had delusions of enlisting the assassin in some kind of thawing scheme. "How old are you, anyway?”
“A lady never tells and a gentleman never asks.”
“Don’t you ever feel like celebrating your accomplishments?” He asked. "Like living another year is something to be proud of?"
“I celebrate me every day, Rogers, in ways I need not go into detail over a burner,” she sighed happily. Steve winced.
“No need,” he agreed. He put his hand up to the glass tank, as he had a hundred times before and would a hundred times more, at least, until they needed him again. I already do, he thought more than once, but the needs of the many blah blah blah and also Bucky specifically asked not to be unfrozen until T’Challa’s people could figure out his brain. Under his breath, at the time, Steve had said 'we shared a twin bed and even I don’t understand your brain.' Bucky cuffed him and snorted, and Steve thought in that moment nothing could possibly be wrong in that beautiful head. But experience had taught him not to listen to his stupid, stupid heart when it came to this particular version of Bucky and still he couldn’t help himself. Sometimes the most he could manage was to turn down the volume. “What are you up to today?”
“I’m meeting Sam in New York at a proper human wake-up time. Hint.” Steve froze at the idea and homesickness hit him immediately.
“What for?”
“No reason.”
“How are you meeting Sam? Sam was with me all yesterday and he didn’t say anything. Why are you meeting him in New York?” There was an odd adrenaline that came with being left out. He couldn’t hear a damn thing in Natasha’s voice suddenly and knew she had put on her poker tone, something he couldn’t accomplish even if he tried.
“Business is business, Rogers. Ross and Stark are in D.C. and coffee is in New York.”
“How come it’s not my business?”
“It could be your business," she said coolly. "Or have you already set up your shrine for the day?”
“For your information,” Steve groused, purposefully turning away from the little flowers and things he’d brought in from the jungle to adorn Bucky’s chamber on his birthday. “it is not a shrine. He’s not some kind of religious figure.”
“Is that right?” Natasha asked slyly.
“Cool it, Nat.”
“Oh, did we move on to cryo puns? Not very chill on Mr. Snowmisers’s birthday.”
“I’m gonna hang up on you,” Steve threatened.
“You called me, I don’t give a shit if you hang up,” Natasha yawned. “Get on the plane with Sam. We can have coffee. Somewhere Barnes would have wanted you to be.” The words hung heavy in a silence that followed. Steve looked in at Bucky, already one hundred years old in some parts of the world and suspended as a perfectly ageless young man in this aquarium. He'd laugh if he could see himself, and if he felt like laughing again. Steve wasn't sure when that would be. Soon, he had to hope, had to believe. He could still hear the laugh in his mind, a Victrola loop of sunshine in peels. It couldn't be that far off if he could still hear it. Bucky didn't look back at him, birthday or no. His heart twisted. "Steve?"
“Okay. But I want to be back for dinner.”
“I have a great bottle of cab the two of you can split, you can hide it in your carry-on,’ she said without affect. Steve chuckled in spite of himself. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Sounds good,” Steve said, and she hung up without goodbye, as always. It did sound good. He slipped the flip phone in his pocket and took a lap around the lab, keeping his eyes on Bucky. The soft hum and beeps of scattered technology had become familiar; he knew them all now. Sometimes he (fully recognized without admitting to anyone who would worry) imagined an expression change on Bucky’s face, some ghosting response on his features, as Steve spoke to him. Of course he knew it wasn’t real. Just some Mona Lisa trick of the eye. But his heart leapt nonetheless, even at the specter. “I’m sorry you have to miss this,” he said, for what was maybe the third or fourth time this week. “I know neither of us ever even remotely planned on 100 but I’m sure it would have been an important milestone for you. Just like in those crazy books you were always reading as a kid. I looked up everything I could find on those new planets,” Steve said, jumping in conversation, remembering news he meant to share. “Seven of ‘em. Might be water and everything. The rate we’re living,” he said with a sad smile, “we could probably make it.”
He met Sam on the helipad of the research center a couple of hours later, surprised to find Clint, Scott, and Wanda all waiting on a bench at the glass doors. Clint got up slowly, stretching like a languid cat. Steve was instantly suspicious.
“Heard we’re going for coffee," Clint said, noting the question on Steve's face. "I'm coming, if you don't mind," he added. Steve worried his lip but nodded. To fit the whole team in T'Challa's jet was not a problem but it did feel risky for all of them to fly at once, for reasons he couldn't quite articulate but what surely amounted to a President-Vice President-Air Force 1 situation.
“We’re going to visit Natasha," Wanda corrected. Clint shrugged.
“Tomato tomato, as long as there's coffee,” he said, running a hand through his hair leaving it in a frazzled wake. Sam folded his arms.
“I thought you liked the Wakandan blend," he said.
“I do," Clint conceded, "but I miss Dunkin Donuts.”
“Are we getting donuts?” Scott asked excitedly, pulling out a very unnecessary passport. “I heard it was a field trip.”
“Word gets around, apparently,” Sam said over his shoulder to Steve. “Everybody in. Pee before we leave, we’re not pulling over.”
When they'd landed and crammed into Nat's waiting station wagon, the music was too loud for Steve to ask any of the important questions. But buildings he knew came into sight and vanished, people moved quickly about the sidewalks with briefcases, backpacks, all bustle and bundle on their way, and Steve smiled. Wakanda had a different vibe; all cities do. New York's hadn't so much changed since he was a kid as it strengthened. They wanted for nothing in T'Challa's care but it was clear that his team was stir-crazy. Clint pointed out every coffee shop they passed, shouting over Natasha's Hamilton soundtrack. Steve couldn't remember any colonial cabinet battles like this from what he read as a boy but he sure as hell would never forget them now. They pulled over by a park, quiet for the time of day, and Nat took a box of Dunkin catering coffee out of the trunk with a bag of sugar packets and creamers. She went into the park without explaining and everyone followed. Under a tree she sat down and poured everyone a cup, and they sat in a lop-sided circle, sipping and catching up. Natasha couldn't say too much about her new projects, as usual, and Scott had a lot to say about things he'd learned on various podcasts while exploring Wakanda with the security escort they made him take everywhere. Sam asked, in a roundabout way, about Tony and Natasha laughed long and loud as she told, in hilarious detail, just what he and his over-eager Spider protege had been up to in the past months. They poured second cups and relaxed into the afternoon, observing children and joggers and enjoying each others company. Steve sighed heavy and sad as he wondered what Bucky would make of this trip, how much if anything of this neighborhood he would remember, which nights together, which mornings, which coffee. Clint broke the silence.
"We gonna do the thing?" He asked. Steve frowned.
"What thing?" He looked from Natasha to Sam. Natasha took out her phone.
"We're going to make a birthday card for Barnes," she said as if it were obvious. "That's why we all got together to have this picnic."
"I don't know if you can call it a picnic if there's no food," Scott said, though he instantly backed off when Natasha shot him a withering glance. "Not that this isn't fun! I'm having a lot of fun." Steve was flabbergasted.
"You don't have to do that, Nat, that's--- that'd be weird, you guys don't know him," he said reluctantly.
"It's important to you," Wanda said, a soft hand on his shoulder. "We fought with him and for him. I feel he is our friend," she said, and Clint nodded.
"I talk to him in the tank sometimes," he admitted. Sam looked at him questioningly and he shrugged. "Good listener."
"Anyway," Natasha stopped him, "we'll just record everything and it'll be like he's here," she said casually. "You know. Didn't miss his 100th birthday, after all." Steve swallowed hard. It was difficult to quell the odd rush of emotion: realizing Bucky could be accepted, even loved by the friends around him warmed every bit of Steve's heart. It felt wrong to be given such a gift when it wasn't his birthday. "We'll do yours first, old man," Natasha smiled, holding up her phone. "Start whenever you want to. Say hi to future Barnes."
Steve stuttered and smoothed his hair, blinking awkwardly. Natasha hit record.
"Do I--- where do I look?" Steve asked meekly and straightened, setting his jaw against the moment. "Buck, it's your 100th birthday. I'm uh," he dropped the formality almost instantly, as he felt himself really addressing his friend. "I'm sorry you're not here with us. I wanted to thaw you for a day, just because, and that idea was shot down by literally everyone in a lab coat within a twenty mile radius of your tank." Sam snorted off-camera. "So Nat invited us to New York. For coffee. Which you'll probably find highly suspicious and also a waste of gasoline. But it's really nice to be here together," he said, smiling at the ground. "We grew up not too far from here. 90 or so years ago, some change, who's counting," he said with a sly smile. "I loved going to your house on your birthday because your ma would make something ridiculous and there would be fifty people there stomping around and yelling about something," Steve laughed softy, conjuring it there. "And everybody would kiss you on the head and tell you something they were proud of you for. Almost always boxing, but sometimes school stuff. One time your ma said she was proud of you for taking care of me, her other son. I'm gonna go to my grave returning the favor," he said with a sigh.
"Yeah, in nine-hundred years when the sun explodes and your serum finally chills," the recording caught Sam's voice as well as the sound of someone hitting him in the shoulder.
"Anyway, uh. Here's to you, Buck, I can't wait to have you back," Steve said, raising his coffee cup.
"Very nice, Rogers."
Cut.
"James Barnes, I'm Clint Barton. Nice to see you." Clint waved at the camera and jostled his coffee. "I think you're cool. No ice pun intended. You're a great marksman and it'll be nice to have a range buddy when we can figure out the defrost. Happy birthday. I'm not your mom, but I'm proud of you for killing all those world leaders."
"Clint."
"What? He's a great shot!"
Cut.
“Okay, I just go? Neat. Happy birthday, Bucky! We’re not friends but I assume you’ll let me call you Bucky eventually. You can call me Scotty if you want. Nobody ever has but it feels fair if I get your nickname. Or we could pick new ones. Ah,” Scott thought about it for a second, trailing off. “You guys could be Mario and Luigi,” he said, turning his head off-camera.
“What?” Steve’s voice replied in the background. “What’s that?”
“They’re these plumber brothers from Brooklyn. They have a video game. So like, you could be the Mario brothers. And Clint is Yoshi because he eats everything and has good aim. And Sam is Toad.”
“The fuck I am.”
“Is that a frog?” Steve’s voice came from out of frame again, followed by Clint’s laugh.
“It’s a mushroom! Anyway I think you’re going to love video games. Especially Mario Kart since you seem to be the sabotaging type, no offense, I just get that vibe. Anyway,” Scott coughed awkwardly. “Maybe edit that out. Edit that last bit out, that’s fine. Anyway,” he started again, “happy birthday, here’s to many happy and healthy more, whenever we can thaw you out and cut out the bad bits, you seem great and I hope when you watch this we are already friends.” Scott smiled and took a sip of coffee before looking at Steve off camera. “That was okay, right?”
Cut.
Sam sat placidly still. He stared straight at the camera and said nothing. He took a slow sip of coffee without breaking eye contact. It was Bucky’s personal Pinter play.
“It’s your birthday,” he said. “You’re very old. You’ll be older when you get this, and blessedly, one day you’ll die. I’ll probably already be dead and waiting for you.” He continued to stare into the camera. Steve coughed out of frame.
“Uh, is that---”
“Yup, who’s next?”
Cut.
Wanda sweetly adjusted her hair and smiled, nodding at whoever held the phone. “Hi, James. We came to this park to celebrate your birthday for you with Steve. This time next year, you’ll be here in this place we saved,” she said, patting the ground next to her. “The weather is fair and Natasha brought us some coffee to share, and Steve is here. See you soon!” She waved as the camera turned sharply away, cutting out just after it caught a look on Steve’s face that hadn't been there before.
The camera switched to selfie modie and Natasha smirked, fluffing her hair as she looked at herself.
“I think every time with you will be the last and you always surprise me, Barnes. I have no doubt you’ll watch this at 200 from the moon. For your birthday, I got you the gift of a happy boyfriend.” The focus swung around and caught Steve chewing on a stirring stick. “I’m sure you’re tired of him pining away at you in your ice box and here he is, being social.” Natasha’s face was visible for a second and she winked at the camera. “You’re welcome,” she said, before filming Steve again. He waved. “So what do you think, Rogers? Good distraction? You like your Bucky Barnes Centennial Celebration gift?” Natasha asked, a smile in her voice from behind her phone. Steve balked.
“This isn't about me.” Color dusted his cheeks, and he would, every year upon watching the home movie, blame the cold of March. Sam nudged him with his shoulder.
“Not everything that loves you is on ice, just saying.”
“I guess I needed a reminder,” Steve smiled.
“You know, they used to have a statue of you in a park,” Scott said, looking around. Steve blanched.
“What?”
“It’s in a mall now, don’t worry,” he said, hoping to calm him. It had the opposite effect.
“They put me in a mall?”
“Nothing gold can stay, Ponyboy.”
“We should bust me out,” Steve grumbled, finishing his coffee.
“I don’t want to assume I have the most experience taking weird things from places I don’t belong but I’m gonna just go ahead and say that’s not the first thing we should do,” Scott offered, “mostly because I was promised donuts. But after that we can totally move your statue.”
“I liked it better when you were just glad to be here,” Sam said pointedly, leaning back onto the hard ground.
“He’s very glad to be here. It’s exhausting,” Wanda said with a tired smile, folding her paper cup in on itself. A golden retriever bounded past with a stick in its mouth, triumphant.
“Bucky would love this,” Steve said with a happy smile. “This is perfect.”
“Do you think that lady would let me play with her dog?” Clint asked, looking to Natasha.
“I’ll throw a stick for you, man,” Sam offered and Scott laughed. Clint grinned.
“Don’t make me promises you won’t keep, Wilson.”
“Happy birthday, Barnes,” Natasha said into the camera as a parting note, with some affection as in the background Clint crumpled an empty sugar packet and flicked it, Wanda batting it effortlessly away just before it could hit Nat and the camera. “We miss you but honestly, you didn’t miss a thing.”
“Very nice, Natasha. Grandpa’s gonna love it,” Sam cooed, and the focus abruptly went skyward before ending. The screen paused on wispy white clouds, silvery out of focus.
Cut.
Bucky knew it by heart now, having watched it every birthday since, and cuddled further into Steve on the couch in its glow.
“It’s nice to have video evidence of the one time Sam Wilson was right,” he mumbled into undershirt cotton. “Grandpa does love it.”
“Good. You are loved right back,” Steve said, tilting Bucky’s chin to kiss him on the forehead. “And for the record, you don’t look a day over 99.”