Archive of Our Own ^beta

day four–hundred–sixty–eight

The rumble of the motor was loud, almost deafening, in Steve's ears, the noise disturbing the quiet that lasted for miles upon miles and miles. The cold wind was biting at his already flushed cheeks and rustled his short hair, the jacket clinging to his shoulders and torso from the force of the wind was flapping behind him as he drove.

His hands – bare despite the chill of an upcoming winter hanging in the air – tightened their grip around the throttle as he made a turn, his feet shifting where they were pressed against the footrest. A little smile tugged at his lips as he slowed just slightly in the turn, leaning into it, and the smile grew wider when he sped up again the moment he was on yet another straight-away.

The motorcycle rumbled loudly as it carried him down the dirt road, the back wheel leaving behind a cloud of dust and dirt where it spun against the road. Steve's smile turned into a grin, his heart hammered in his chest at the adrenaline spiking through his body, and he felt alive.

He'd missed this, he realized as he drove. God, had he missed this.

Over the years of the motorcycle just collecting dust in his shed and doing nothing else, Steve had forgotten just how good it felt to drive it. He had forgotten how good the rush of it felt, how good the wind biting at his cheeks and rustling his hair and the sound of the motor rumbling loudly in his ears was.

He had forgotten, had let grief and mourning for his mother and guilt for, well, everything take this feeling away from him; this feeling of being alive. But now, after months of trying and failing and breaking down because of his continued failure, he was back on it and driving it.

Just down the dirt road surrounding his farm, sure, but he was doing it and it was definite progress and he was proud of himself. Honestly and truly proud that he got this far.

Only problem was, he discovered as he took another turn and his palms started to feel clammy, he didn't have Daisy by his side.

Steve had come a long way from how he used to be; unable to get out of bed or go outside, angry at the world and the universe and himself, deeply depressed with an inability to see the good in anything, suicidal, losing himself little by little.

He had come a long way, but one thing he still wasn't able to do was to go very far for very long without his service dog to keep him grounded and protecting him, in case he couldn't protect or carry himself. Being without Daisy made him feel anxious to the point where it became hard to focus on anything but his pounding heart, pounding with something that wasn't adrenaline, and his palms started to sweat despite the cool weather.

So, after making one last turn to the dirt road that led directly up to the farm house, Steve drove the motorcycle back and did his damnedest to focus on the rumble of the motor and the wind biting at his cheeks rather than the rapid pounding of his heart and the anxiety and uneasiness making his stomach tighten.

Daisy was still laying flat on her stomach on the porch when Steve made it back to the farm house, nudging the kickstand out and climbing off the bike. She rose to her feet the moment she saw him, and she was trotting over to him after stretching briefly, obviously sensing his sudden anxiety.

Steve crouched down and took her head in his hands, smiling softly as she pressed her snout to his face and whined at him. It took him a minute, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to Daisy's, before he managed to calm down and got his heartbeat and breathing under control again.

“I'm okay,” he told both her and himself in a whisper, running a hand down along Daisy's back.

Daisy made a soft noise in response and shifted closer to him. Steve smiled fondly and offered her a few grateful head scratched that she didn't hesitate to lean into with a pleased huff. He then stood and stretched, a relaxed smile back on his lips and his eyes roaming over the peaceful farm.

In the distance, he could hear the chickens cluck away, Redwing the rooster honking at something (probably Atticus, because when wasn't it him?), and the cows mooing further down the field. But otherwise, it was quiet and Steve took a moment just to enjoy the peace, to breathe in the fresh and clear air.

Every once in a while, it didn't feel real. This – the quiet and the peace he had managed to experience daily for years now. Sometimes he could still hear the distant horrors of war, ringing in his ears and haunting his mind. It was especially bad after a nightmare that woke him up too early and kept him awake until staying in bed to calm down was no longer an option.

Sometimes he could still hear his men yelling over the loud sound of gunfire. Sometimes he could still hear their desperate cries and screams for help while debris crushed them. Sometimes he couldn't believe he made it out alive even though he sometimes wished he hadn't.

Steve still felt guilty as all hell about everything, but he was working on not blaming himself so much anymore. Sometimes he could push it aside and sometimes he couldn't.

Now, in that moment as he listened to the quiet of his farm and breathed in the fresh air, he could push aside all the thoughts of how undeserving of this he was and his relaxed smile stayed put on his lips.

Rolling his shoulders a couple of times, he turned back to look at the motorcycle parked out front. He stared at it in silence for about a minute, before the relaxed smile slowly turned itself into a grin, and he looked down at Daisy. She had sat down to his right and was looking back at him patiently, a little tilt of her head and her ears perked with interest.

“How hard do you think it'd be to get Bucky to come take a ride with me?” he asked her.

Daisy tilted her head further to the right in response.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a nod. “Probably not that hard. Guy loves me too much to say no to me.”

Daisy huffed softly at him, almost like she was laughing at him even though she didn't understand. Steve grinned at her briefly then patted his thigh to get her to follow him, and he started walking toward the field of growing crops.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see Atticus running around between the cows munching away on the overgrown grass on the field. None of the cows seemed bothered by him as he jumped around and nudged against them when he passed, and Steve couldn't help but smile a little, stopping to watch Atticus run around for just a second.

Atticus was a large and fully grown anatolian shepherd, but he had never fully grown out of being as playful as he had been when he had been just a pup. It was both endearing and highly entertaining, and Steve loved him. He couldn't have asked for a better farm dog.

Steve found Bucky crouched down in the small but colorful patch of flowers and plants that grew nearby the crops. It was a small, separated area that Steve had fenced in for him when Bucky had started showing interest for growing his own things.

It had started out with the flower seeds Sam had helped him pick out at the market. Steve hadn't been able to get out of bed that day, so Sam had come over to give a helping hand and had dragged Bucky with him to town, and Steve had dragged himself out of bed around dinner time to find Bucky carefully putting the packets away.

It had started out with just flowers and a handful of plants, but it soon grew to vegetables as well and Bucky loved doing it.

Bucky often presented Steve with a handful of flowers accompanied by a charming and irresistible grin, and Steve smiled and kissed him and put the flowers in a vase in the living room for proud display each and every single time.

(Atticus liked the flowers too. Only, instead of picking them and giving them to anyone, he just ate them.

Bucky had yelled at him for it more times than Steve could keep track of by now.)

Steve stopped a good distance away from Bucky, Daisy sitting down by his side. He watched as his boyfriend handled the growing plants with so much care, you wouldn't think he was ever an assassin for an evil organization.

Bucky had the sleeves of his (Steve's, still) shirt rolled up to above his elbows, and Steve had to squint as the sunlight reflected against the metal of his left arm.

Bucky was still uncomfortable with his arm – still referred to it as the arm on bad days – but he was getting better with it. He wore tee shirts every once in a while now, and sometimes they were even his own. He still preferred to raid Steve's closet and wear the clothes that hang there, but he had started to wear his own clothes more and more now.

Steve kept giving him an unimpressed look every time he caught Bucky wearing clothes from his closet, but he couldn't deny that he liked seeing him in them. It was nice, good, and domestic, and Steve's heart warmed every time.

He suspected Bucky knew how much he liked it, too. The guy was one observant fucker, after all. Steve couldn't hide anything from him, no matter how hard he tried to.

In the present, Steve allowed himself to watch Bucky with a fond smile on his lips for only a minute more, ignoring the itch to sketch him with the way he was illuminated by the sunlight and surrounded by flowers and plants, before he shook himself out of his adoring daze and walked over toward him.

“Hey, Buck!” he called out as he neared, Daisy trotting after him.

Bucky lifted his gaze from the flowers and plants and a smile immediately formed on his lips when his eyes landed on Steve. Steve smiled back without hesitating. It had been over a year since Bucky had broken into his barn and Steve had taken him in, and Steve loved him more and more as the days ticked by. Seeing him smile still made his eyes turn into hearts and his heart warm.

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky said, standing and turning toward him. He reached out for Steve, grabbing his hand and pulling him close, and Steve met him halfway for a kiss; just a soft press of lips before they pulled apart again.

“How 're your flowers doing?” Steve asked, lifting a hand to tug a string of Bucky's hair that had escaped the bun behind his ear and out of the way.

“Good,” Bucky answered, then frowned at him, his eyes flickering upward for a second. “Your hair's all messed up. What have you been doing?”

Steve broke into a grin and said, “Been driving. Wanna come with for a ride?”

“Where to?”

“Just around the farm, nowhere far,” Steve said with a half shrug.

Bucky blinked, then gave him a look, a brow quirking. “Are you seriously asking me to take a drive around the farm, Steve? What are you asking for? Road head?”

“No, Buck.” Steve shook his head. “I don't mean in the truck.”

Bucky looked at him for a long and calculating moment, before he seemed to get what Steve was saying. His eyes widened the tiniest bit, and his voice was lowered to an almost whisper when he asked, “The motorcycle?”

Steve nodded, couldn't help the bit of pride that showed in the smile that formed on his lips.

Bucky smiled at him, wide and toothy, and leaned in to kiss him. “Take me for a ride, ангел,” he whispered against his lips, and Steve kissed him.

Steve held onto Bucky's hand, Bucky lacing their fingers together automatically, for the short walk back to the front of the farm house. Only then did he let go and only so he could climb onto the bike, scooting up a little to make room behind him for Bucky.

Daisy jumped up onto the porch, stretched and yawned, and made herself comfortable on the same spot she had been sleeping on earlier. She rested her head on her paws and blinked a few times, before her eyes closed. She was asleep within a minute, snoring softly.

There was a sound of a fake camera shutter, and Steve turned his gaze to Bucky. Bucky had his phone raised and eyes down on the screen as his fingers moved over it, undoubtedly having just taken a picture of him. Steve could only smile as he looked at him, watching him type on his phone and probably uploading it to his instagram.

“Do I look hot?” Steve asked, a teasing grin playing over his lips. He leaned back a little, striking a pose.

Bucky looked at him. He blinked once, before he gave Steve a once over and a little responding grin grew on his pink lips. Stepping over toward him, he said, “Never looked hotter.”

“Oh, come on,” Steve said with a small huff. “Never?”

“Well, there was the time you decided to make breakfast in nothing but your underwear,” Bucky said. “That was pretty hot.”

“So this is a close second then, I'm guessing?”

“I mean, you could be naked. That'd make it hotter.”

“Actually, that would make it colder,” Steve said flatly.

Bucky gave him an unimpressed look, rolled his eyes, and closed the distance between them for a brief kiss. “Punk,” he mumbled against Steve's lips.

“Jerk,” Steve mumbled back and dove forward to kiss him again, deeply this time.

Bucky was the one to break away, ruffling Steve's hair with his right hand. “Alright, let's ride,” he said as he stood back up straight. “Where's my helmet?”

“Inside, if you want one,” Steve said, nodding toward the front door that still stood wide open.

“If I- Steve.” Bucky's voice turned stern a split second, and Steve quirked a brow at him. “Please tell me you did not ride your damn motorcycle without a goddamn helmet.”

Steve blinked at him, then looked away guiltily.

“Steve,” Bucky sighed, exasperated.

“Come on.” Steve looked back at him, shoulders sagging a little under Bucky's glare. “It's just around the farm.”

“And what would you do if you crashed, huh? Crack your dumb fucking skull open, that's what you'd do.”

“Well, you always say I'm thick skulled, so,” he trailed off with a shrug.

Bucky smacked the back of his head and Steve winced.

“You're wearing a helmet, end of discussion,” Bucky decided and stormed inside.

Steve opened his mouth to argue, the first words already forming on his lips. But then Bucky looked over his shoulder and send him a warning look, and the words died in Steve's throat. He closed his mouth with an audible clack, let out a heavy huff, and found himself pouting almost childishly.

Bucky returned only a couple of minutes later, a biker helmet in each hand. He didn't give Steve a chance to say a single word, before he shoved one of the onto Steve's head and firmly said, “Wear it, you punk.”

Steve just rolled his eyes and strapped the helmet on without arguing.

Bucky untied his bun, getting his hair loose with a quick shake of his head, and strapped his own helmet on, before he climbed onto the bike as well. He scooted up close behind him, pressing his hips firmly to Steve's backside. Steve tried not to blush at the contact, but he knew his cheeks would turn bright red no matter how much he tried not to think about it or will it down.

Bucky wrapped his arms tightly around Steve's waist, planting both palms on Steve's stomach, and pressed his chest firmly to Steve's back. After shifting around a little (Steve suspected the asshole was teasing him on purpose) and getting himself comfortable, Bucky knocked their helmets together, silently telling him he was ready to go.

Steve nudged the kickstand up, revved the engine, and drove off to the sound of Bucky's surprised laughter, a smile already growing on his lips.

The rumble of the motor wasn't as loud this time around, the helmet strapped to his head blocking out the deafening noise of it just a little. It was still loud enough to nearly drown out the sound of the small noises, gasps and chuckles, that escaped Bucky whenever Steve sped up or slowed down in a turn.

In every turn, Bucky tightened his arms around Steve's waist and his hands gripped his shirt tightly, and Steve smiled at the closeness of his boyfriend. He smiled when Bucky pressed closer and told him to speed up after they had taken a turn and made it to a straight-away, and Steve did without hesitating, the engine roaring loudly and the cloud of dust and dirt trailing behind them.

They drove and drove, probably longer than Steve had driven before. Bucky's closeness and occasional squeezes were grounding for him, as were his laughs and noises and complaints when Steve dipped the bike a little too far in a turn. It was grounding to have someone with him, a familiar hand over his pounding heart and a familiar weight pressed against his backside and a familiar voice telling him he was doing great.

Steve was sure he could drive forever like this; with Bucky plastered to him. But his mind thought otherwise. His hands started to feel clammy and his heart pounded too hard in his chest after a while. He tried to push through it but he knew, deep down, that he had to get back.

“Home, Stevie!” Bucky yelled over the roar of the engine, the hand pressed against Steve's chest caressing comfortingly.

Steve only nodded once, not trusting his own voice to work well enough to yell over the noise of the motorcycle. He revved the engine once, twice, three times and then turned them around and drove back toward the farm house.

He turned onto the road leading up to it, and that was when he saw a familiar car further down the road and heading in the same direction as they were. Anxiety forgotten momentarily, Steve let a grin curl at his lips, and he sped up to catch up with the car, pulling up along its left side.

It didn't take long before the driver turned his head and looked at them, surprise flickering across his face before turning into a wide smile. Steve lifted a hand to salute him in greeting, returning the smile. He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know that Bucky had raised a hand to flip the driver off.

“I'm not racing you, assholes!” Sam yelled over the noise after rolling down his window.

Steve revved the engine of the motorcycle in response, speeding up a little in a silent challenge.

“No fucking way!” Sam yelled and shook his head. “Forget it!”

“Chicken!” Bucky yelled back, and Sam flipped him off.

Steve laughed, revved the engine once more, and then drove off, purposely leaving a cloud of dust and dirt in front of Sam and undoubtedly dirtying up his car. He was going to pay for that, he was sure of that, but it was worth it because Bucky laughed loudly and Steve's heart warmed at the sound of it.

Atticus was waiting by the front of the house when they made it back there, tail wagging wildly and tongue lolling out of his mouth. Daisy was still on the porch, her head rising and her ears perking when the motorcycle came to a halt and Steve nudged the kickstand out, letting the weight of the bike rest on it. She didn't move from her spot though.

Steve pulled his helmet off and let out a heavy breath, sagging back against Bucky and letting his eyes fall shut for just a moment. Bucky's arms returned to around him only a moment after, Bucky's helmet carelessly tossed to the ground along with Steve's, and Steve felt soft and familiar lips, as well as familiar and rough stubble, brush against the side of his face.

“Proud of you,” Bucky whispered into his ear, squeezing him.

A soft smile spread across Steve's lips, and he turned his head enough to capture Bucky's lips in an appreciative kiss. The kiss was cut short, however, when Sam's car came to a parked halt beside them and Sam stuck his head out of the window, arm resting over the edge.

“You're cleaning my car yourself,” Sam said, pointing a finger at Steve. “Hope you're aware of that.”

Steve rolled his eyes and said, “Your car's just gonna get dirty again when you drive back, Sam. What's the point of cleaning it?”

“The point is that I like having my car look nice,” Sam said and opened the car door, stepping out. “I'm not an animal, unlike you.”

Bucky snorted, and Steve gave him a betrayed look and elbowed him. “Fine,” he murmured, climbing off the motorcycle with a quiet sigh. “I'll clean your damn car.”

“I'll hold you to that,” Sam said and stepped over. Atticus came running over, but Sam only offered him a quick head ruffle, before he placed a hand on Steve's shoulder and gave him a soft and proud smile. “I'm glad to see you riding the bike again.”

Steve returned the smile and met him halfway for a quick, tight, and friendly hug. “Glad to be on it again,” he said as they parted, Sam squeezing his shoulder once before letting go. “What's go you coming all the way out here? I thought you were busy at the VA this week.”

“What, a guy can't come see his best friend whenever he wants?” Sam asked, throwing an arm across Steve's shoulders with a grin, and Steve let himself be guided toward the house.

Steve cast a quick look over his shoulder and held out a hand in a silent invite when he saw Bucky climbing off the motorcycle and trailing after them. Bucky was over by his side in a second, tangling their fingers together, and Steve squeezed.

“Sure,” Steve said to Sam, wrapping his other arm around Sam's middle. “Usually he texts first, though.”

“I did text you,” Sam said.

Steve blinked, then remembered and winced. “Fuck. Sorry. I let my phone in the kitchen. Didn't want to accidentally drop it during the ride.”

“No worries, man,” Sam said and gave Steve's hair a quick ruffle before detaching himself and hopping onto the porch. “I would have come by no matter what, anyway.”

Daisy got to her feet and leaned into Sam's petting hand for a moment, before she trotted over to wiggle herself in between Steve and Bucky. Bucky huffed and Steve snorted but didn't let go of Bucky's hand despite the dog between them.

“So, why are you here?” Steve asked, following Sam inside and dragging Bucky with him. “Not that I'm not happy you are here. You're always welcome.”

“I better be,” Sam said, then lifted the bag that hang over his shoulder and gestured to Bucky. “This asshole bugged me into buying him books.”

“Books?” Steve asked in a mutter, a small frown on his lips as he looked from Sam to Bucky.

Bucky seemed to brighten in an instant. He let go of Steve's hand and went over to Sam, holding his hands out silently. Sam quirked a brow but dropped the bag into Bucky's waiting hands without a word, and Bucky didn't hesitate to stick a hand inside and rummage through it. After a few seconds passing in silence, he pulled out a book titled Auto Repair For Dummies, and Steve's face fell immediately.

He stared at Bucky, a deadpan look on his face when Bucky shot him an almost sheepish glance.

“What?” Bucky asked, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug.

“What did I tell you about fucking with my tractor?” Steve asked.

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned to him, tossing Sam his bag back. “I'm not fucking with it,” he said. “I'm improving it.”

A few months ago, Bucky had started showing an interest in technology and mechanics. Steve, just happy that Bucky was rediscovering parts of himself, had let him tinker with whatever he wanted to around the house; the dishwasher, the television, the computer, the countless alarm clocks, anything he wanted to.

But, Steve did have his boundaries.

“I can take you breaking a thousand alarm clocks,” Steve said, stepping closer to Bucky, “but my tractor is fucking expensive, Buck.”

“I fixed your damn tractor last time it broke down, calm your tits,” Bucky said with a roll of his eyes. “I know what I'm doing.”

“Then what am I giving you these books for?” Sam asked, and Steve shot him a glance. Sam was pulling book after book out of his bag and stacking them onto the kitchen island. There were at least a handful in the stack already and more seemed to come out.

There was a happy flutter around Steve's heart; happy because Bucky was making progress and diving head first into something he obviously liked. But, well, Steve did love his tractor and maybe he was a bit too protective of it, so he shot Bucky a disapproving look.

“Experts can still learn,” Bucky told Sam, and he lifted a hand to flick Steve's nose. Steve swatted at his hand with a huff.

“If you ruin my tractor, you're sleeping in the cow stall for a week,” Steve threatened, swatting Bucky's hand away again when it moved close to his face.

“You guys have the weirdest fights,” Sam commented in a mutter.

Steve didn't need to look at him to know he was grinning amusedly at them. He was too busy swatting away Bucky's hands anyway, Bucky laughing and snickering as he kept trying to poke him.

6:29 pm

Bucky buried his nose in the books immediately, throwing himself onto the couch in the living room and Atticus flopping down on top of him and falling asleep in seconds. He got completely swallowed up by what he was reading instantly, just like he did with most books, and Steve only allowed himself to watch him with a fond smile on his lips for a couple of minutes, before he dragged himself away and joined Sam in the kitchen.

Daisy laid down by their feet, head resting on her paws and her eyes watching them both closely in case either of them dropped anything.

Both Sam and Steve had the sleeves of their shirts rolled up to their elbows, hands busy with cleaning the fruit and vegetables Steve had gathered from the crops, and there was a pleasant silence hanging between them.

Steve was the one to break it, after he realized he could no longer keep the words to himself.

“I talked to Carla recently,” he said, apropos of nothing. He didn't look up from where he was cleaning a handful of the carrots Bucky had grown.

“And?” Sam prompted him to continue, glancing his way briefly.

Steve took in a deep breath and sighed. He shook his head, kept his gaze downward. “No improvement.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft. “Steve, I'm sorry.”

Steve lifted his shoulders in a quick shrug, swallowing thickly and ignoring the sorrow weighing down his heart. “I don't want her to give up hope, but...”

“But it doesn't look like there's any hope left,” Sam finished for him, and Steve nodded.

“Gabe deserves some peace,” he said, voice lowered. “She does too. But if I tell her she should reconsider pulling the plug, she'll hate me more than she already does.”

“She doesn't hate you,” Sam started to say, but Steve interrupted.

“She does. Or, she should. It's my fault Gabe is in this condition in the first place, so I get why.”

A tense silence hang in the air, and Steve pointedly didn't look up from where he was scrubbing the carrots in his hands. He was scrubbing maybe a bit too harshly, he absently noted but didn't do anything about.

He could feel Sam's eyes on him, giving him the same look he always did whenever this was brought up, and he tried not to shrink under it. But, like always, he failed.

“Let me ask you a question,” Sam started, taking half a step closer. “Do you think what happened to Riley was my fault?”

“What?” Steve lifted his head and locked eyes with Sam, his brows furrowed as he shook his head. “No, of course not.”

“Exactly,” Sam said and poked at him with a wet finger. “Then why the hell do you think what happened to Gabe and the rest of your men was your fault?”

“Because-”

“And don't tell me it's because you were their captain,” Sam interrupted with a warning look and a lifted finger. “You didn't see the bomb, it was not your fault. I don't know how many times I need to tell you that before you get it through your thick skull,” he poked at Steve's forehead a few times, Steve blinking each time, “or, hell, how many people need to tell you that.”

Steve looked at him for a moment, then slowly, a little smile pulled at his lips.

Sam narrowed his eyes at him and asked, “What?”

“Bucky calls me thick skulled too,” Steve told him.

Sam rolled his eyes and groaned. “Don't you dare start comparing me to that shithead,” he said, turning back to the tomatoes. “I mean, he's right but don't you dare.”

Steve let out a chuckle, and the guilt and sorrow that had darkened his mood was lifted just a little. But a little was enough to make it feel less impossible to handle, and he nudged Sam a little in a silent thank you. Sam smiled at him, nodding in response and nudging him back.

Steve was working on not blaming himself for everything that had happened and he was making progress, but it was still nice to hear Sam telling him what he constantly tried to tell himself; that it wasn't his fault. That he couldn't have saved his men no matter what.

He doubted he would ever not feel guilty about it – knowing he was still alive while everyone from his past wasn't – but if he could feel a little less guilty about everything, then his recovery seemed more possible.

They stood in silence for another few minutes, before Steve broke it again.

“Hey, wanna take a ride on the bike with me?” he asked, turning to Sam with a light smile.

“You sure you wanna trust me on your bike? Sam asked and lifted a brow at him, a teasing grin playing over his lips.

“I'm not asking you to drive it,” Steve said. “Come on, just a quick ride around the farm. I promise to drive safely and everything.”

“Man, you haven't driven anything safely in your entire life,” Sam said with a chuckle, and Steve shrugged. “You don't have to convince me, Steve. Of course I want to take a ride on that bike of yours with you. I've been waiting for years, actually.”

“Is that the only reason you've been putting up with me for this long?” Steve asked flatly and wiped his hands in the towel hanging over his shoulder, tossing it to Sam after.

“It's certainly not because of your personality, you little shit,” Sam said in the same flat tone, catching the towel and wiping his hands as well.

Steve gave him an unimpressed look, and Sam smiled sweetly at him. Steve shook his head with a huff and said, “Come on, you ass. Let's go tell Bucky and we can go fulfill your dream.”

Bucky was still laid out on the couch in the living room, head pillowed against the arm and a book open in his metal hand while his flesh and bone one was resting on top of Atticus' head, Atticus sound asleep on him. Steve smiled softly at them, his heart warming at the sight and his fingers itching to draw the scene.

Sam nudged him out of his thoughts though, and Steve cleared his throat to get Bucky's attention. It took a couple of seconds before Bucky lowered the book a little and looked over the top of it.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said with a smile and walked over toward him. “I'm gonna take Sam out on the bike, won't be gone for long.”

Bucky looked at Steve, then looked at Sam and narrowed his eyes into a glare. “No funny business,” he said, eyes snapping back to Steve.

Steve only rolled his eyes and bend down to kiss him. He meant for it to be just a short and sweet kiss, but Bucky grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back down when he tried to pull away, kissing him again. And Steve, too deeply in love with this man to do anything else, just leaned into it and returned it with no hesitation.

“Aw,” Sam cooed once they finally parted, Steve a little bit dazed and Bucky shooting Sam a glare. “He's jealous. How cute. Relax, Barnes. Steve's all yours.”

Steve blinked a few times and stepped back from Bucky before he could be further distracted. He turned to Sam, let a teasing grin form on his lips, and asked, “What, you saying I'm not your type, Sam?”

“Don't even start with that, you shit,” Sam warned, rolling his eyes. “We had this discussion years ago, I'm not having it again.”

“I'm just saying,” Steve said with a shrug. “A lot can happen in a few years.”

“Yeah, like you getting yourself a boyfriend,” Sam said. He paused for a beat, then added, “And me getting myself a date.”

In an instant, the teasing grin fell from Steve's lips and his eyes widened a little in surprise. “Seriously?” he asked, the teasing grin soon replaced by a beaming smile. “With who?”

“Who'd wanna date you?” Bucky asked in a mutter, the question directed at no one in particular since he had already raised his book and was reading again. His question was ignored, either way.

“Like I'm gonna tell you,” Sam said with a snort.

“I'm your best friend,” Steve said and walked over toward him, following him toward the front door and holding out a hand to silently tell Daisy to stay put. “I'm pretty sure it's in the best friend rulebook that you have to tell me, actually.”

Sam hummed, then shrugged and said, “Maybe after the actual date.”

“I'm holding you to that,” Steve said. “And I want every little detail.”

“Even if it goes terribly?” Sam asked. He had his back to him, so Steve couldn't see his face. But Steve knew him, had known him for years, and he didn't need to see his face to know he was nervous. Probably really, really nervous, and Steve didn't blame him.

Sam hadn't had a date in ages. Anyone would be nervous about throwing yourself back out there after years of actively avoiding it.

“Yes,” Steve said and grabbed Sam's shoulder, turning him around to give him a reassuring smile. “If it goes terrible, I'll be there with ice cream and a shoulder to cry on. And a set of fists if I need to beat them up for you.”

Sam looked at him for a moment, a soft smile on his lips. He then huffed and rolled his eyes. “Alright, let's stop talking about my potential love life and go ride that bike.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said, beaming as he saluted him.

day four–hundred–seventy–two

Steve carefully slid the pencil across the paper, making sure to put only just enough pressure on the tip of it to create a barely-there line that could be easily erased if needed be. Daisy was asleep to his right, her head pillowed on his feet that were planted flat on the mattress of the bed, and the bedroom was quiet aside from her soft snoring and the sound of the pencil pressing against the paper.

He let out a soft sigh as he sketched, the lines on the paper propped up against his thighs slowly taking form of none other than Peggy Carter. He hadn't seen her in a week, Peggy sick and Angie not letting her get out of bed, and his heart was heavy with how much he missed her and how much he worried. He tried not to think about it too much but his mind liked to take him places he didn't want to be no matter how much he fought it.

He shifted slightly where he sat leaning against the headboard of the bed, and Daisy made a noise of protest in her sleep when he wiggled his toes. He couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips when she rolled over onto her side and covered both his feet completely with her head.

Steve didn't know how long he had been sitting there, sketching and trying to keep his mind occupied, but it had to be at least a couple of hours. The sun had gone down outside, the farm quiet. Atticus was downstairs somewhere, probably playing with Bucky.

Or maybe not, as he found out only a second later.

“Hey, Stevie,” he heard a familiar voice say, and Steve tore his gaze away from the sketchbook in his lap.

Bucky was leaning against the door frame, a small and soft smile pulling at the corner of his pink lips. His hair (obviously freshly washed and looking extra soft) was put up in a bun, a few hairs having escaped the elastic and hanging loosely in a frame along his gorgeous face. He was wearing one of Steve's sweatshirts, Steve noticed as he took him in inch by inch, the shirt a little too big on him.

Steve's eyes wandered lower, and the fond look on his face immediately vanished when his eyes landed on the sweatpants Bucky was wearing.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” he blurted before he could stop himself, nose scrunching.

The sweatpants sat loosely on Bucky's legs, a little tighter on his thighs and disappearing into a pair of thick and warm socks, and the strings hang untangled over his crotch. The design on the pants was... Steve didn't know how to describe it. It was nothing short of atrocious, that was what it was.

Around the hips, thighs, knees, and ankles were bundles of flowers; roses, it looked like but Steve wasn't very good at identifying flowers, not like Bucky was. Between the flowers were white polka dots on a black background. The two designs mixed together was ugly, and Steve couldn't help but make a face at them while simultaneously trying not to laugh.

“Sweatpants,” Bucky said and looked down at them, spreading his legs a littler wider and grinning down at them. “You like 'em? Clint picked them out for me.”

Of course Clint did. Only Clint fucking Barton would pick something that ugly out and encourage Bucky to wear it.

“They're hideous,” Steve told him.

“I think they look great,” Bucky said and stepped further into the room.

Daisy lifted her head momentarily to look at Bucky, but she dropped it back down on top of Steve's feet with a soft harrumph only a second later, not interested in what was going on.

“Then you need to get your eyes checked,” Steve said.

“Oh, come on, Stevie,” Bucky said, stepping closer. “They're not that bad.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at him and gave him a calculating look. There was a teasing grin on Bucky's lips, a playful glint in his eyes. Ah, so that was what was happening here.

“Yes, they are,” Steve argued. He closed the sketchbook and placed it on the bedside table instead of on his lap, nudging Daisy away from his feet. She took the hint after a few more nudges and got up and off the bed, stretching briefly before she trotted out of the room with her tail wagging behind her.

“Well,” Bucky drawled and dropped his voice in a husky and lowered one, a dark look in his eyes. “If you despise them so much, why don't you come take them off, huh?”

Steve didn't hesitate to do exactly that, dragging Bucky with him back to the bed and swallowing up his chuckle with a kiss that was returned instantly and passionately.

9:18 pm

Steve kissed his way back up Bucky's torso, drawing a shaky and breathy moan when he captured his nipple between his lips for a brief moment. He nestled himself between Bucky's spread legs, kissed the scarred skin where it became metal, and moved all the way up to kiss him properly on the lips.

Bucky kissed him back for only a moment, before he pulled back to let out a breath, panting as he laid himself flat against the mattress. “Goddamn,” he breathed, moving his right hand up to Steve's cheek and running his fingers through his beard, thumb brushing against Steve's reddened and wet lips. “God-fucking-damn.”

“Good?” Steve asked, a smug look on his face as he kissed the caressing thumb.

“Like you even need to ask that,” Bucky said with a huff, bringing his hand around to the back of Steve's head and tangling his fingers in his hair. “Fucking hell, Stevie, the mouth on you.”

Steve just grinned at him and dove down to kiss him again, Bucky deepening it immediately. They kissed for only a few minutes, lips sliding and tongues touching and breaths and soft moans mingling, before Bucky nudged at him and Steve rolled off of him, throwing himself onto the other side of the bed with a heavy sigh.

Bucky sat up and stretched with a groan, and Steve took the opportunity to drink in the sight of him; naked and sweaty and the most gorgeous person Steve had ever laid eyes on. He couldn't resist and reached out and ran a hand along Bucky's back, touching the warm and sweaty skin.

Bucky turned to look at him for a minute, before he leaned over and down. Steve met him halfway for a kiss, this one chaste and sweet.

“I love you,” Steve whispered against his lips, reaching up to tug Bucky's hair behind his ear.

“Love you too,” Bucky whispered back, kissing him once, twice more before pulling away and getting out of bed.

Steve rolled over onto his stomach, a fond smile forming onto his lips as he shamelessly watched his boyfriend bend down and pick up-

“No,” he said firmly when Bucky picked up the sweatpants. His fond smile was gone in an instant. “You are not putting those back on, Buck.”

Bucky turned around and faced him, sweatpants clutched in his metal hand. Without breaking eye contact and without saying a single word, he stepped into the sweatpants and tugged them up. Steve glared at him, and Bucky grinned widely and unapologetically.

“You're an asshole,” Steve told him.

“Get used to it,” Bucky said and reached out to ruffle Steve's hair as he walked past him, heading out of the door.

Steve groaned after him and flopped back onto the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes.

When Bucky returned with a water bottle for them both in hand, he was still wearing the sweatpants. Steve made sure he only wore them for a couple of gulps of the water, before he got him out of them again.

Bucky didn't protest much.

day four–hundred–eighty–five

Steve had just finished milking the cows, buckets filled almost to the brim by his side and one of the cows getting gentle pets, when his phone buzzed with a new message in his pocket. He offered the cow a few more strokes of petting, before he grabbed the buckets of fresh milk and headed out of the fenced area.

After putting them down outside and closing the gate behind Daisy and himself, he dug his phone out of his pocket and checked the message.

> [04:58 PM] Natasha: Check the news! (　＾∇＾)

He read the message over and over again for about a minute, frowning down at it in confusion, before it finally clicked. And immediately, he forgot all about finishing his day of work on the farm. His heartbeat picked up as he pocketed his phone and rushed toward the house, Daisy following after him in a hurry.

A silent prayer to whoever would listen repeated itself in his head as he rushed forward, skipping the steps up to the porch and just leaping the short distance up. The door was already open when he got there – he'd left it open, in case Atticus, who was still running around on the field, wanted to go inside – and he had barely taken one step inside when he heard an unfamiliar male voice coming from the living room.

“– months of hard work by our agents and our entire organization, I can, with confidence and absolute certainty, say that Hydra has been eliminated,” it said, a chatter of camera shutters and distant voices in the background.

Another voice spoke after, this one female that he recognized as a news reporter, but Steve didn't listen to whatever she was saying. Instead, he stepped further inside the house and into the living room, his heart pounding in his chest.

He found Bucky sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward and wide eyes glued to the television screen. He was wearing those hideous sweatpants again, but Steve made no comment and just sat down next to him and turned his attention to the television.

On screen, a microphone from a news station located in Manhattan was pointed at a tall and muscular man with an eye patch covering his one eye. His name was Nick Fury according to the text below him, the same text telling him that Fury was the head of Shield.

Right. Natasha had mentioned him a few times.

Behind him, there were a couple of Shield agents (Steve recognized them; Hill and Morse. Natasha had introduced them a few years back) leading a furious looking old man in handcuffs out of the Shield building, neither of them handling him particularly nicely.

“Breaking News: The end of Hydra! Alexander Pierce has been arrested,” was written above Fury's head, and Steve forgot how to breathe.

“All of Hydra's facilities across the globe have been taken care of,” Fury was saying on screen, a glint in his visible eye that told Steve taken care of meant destroyed. “And that includes the ones we didn't know of to begin with, we were very thorough. We had,” he paused for a beat, “an anonymous source.”

Steve shot Bucky a glance, but his attention quickly returned to Fury.

“A former captive of Hydra,” Fury said. “They told us everything they could remember about their time under control of Hydra. Without their information and insight, we would still be fighting these snakes for many more years. We couldn't have done it without them, and now Hydra is dead and gone. For good. And-”

Steve tuned out the rest of whatever Fury was saying. He let it become background chatter and turned his attention toward Bucky instead.

The expression on Bucky's face was unreadable. His brows were low and pinched together, his jaw clenched, and his hands were curled into fists resting on his knees. The plates on the metal one were shifting slightly, whirring under the pressure, and there was a slightly tremor in his stiff posture.

“Buck,” Steve said softly, tempted to reach out and touch him but he bit back the urge.

“Pinch me,” Bucky whispered, his voice tight.

Steve reached over and pinched his thigh twice before pulling his hand back. “It's not a dream, Buck,” he said, a smile forming on his lips when he noticed the hard lines on Bucky's face starting to soften little by little. “It's real.”

Bucky blinked once, then twice, then fell back against the couch with a heavy breath leaving him. His eyes were glued to the screen where Pierce was roughly shoved into the back of a Shield car by Hill, his lips were slightly parted, and his shoulders sagged with what almost looked like relief – like a heavy weight had just been lifted from them, and Steve knew that it had.

“I'm free,” Bucky breathed after a minute. A little smile slowly curled at the corners of his lips, and he repeated himself. “I'm free.”

Steve's own smile widened, and he scooted closer to him, reaching out to put a hand on Bucky's. “Yeah, Buck,” he said, voice soft and smile happy. “It's over. You're free.”

A breathy laugh left Bucky in a rush and before Steve knew it, he had an armful of Bucky. Chuckling happily, he wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly, Bucky squeezing him back. They hugged for minutes and minutes while the news switched over to the next story, neither of them caring.

When Bucky pulled away, it was only to lean back in and kiss Steve. Steve didn't get to kiss him back before it was over.

“We're gonna have to buy Natasha a thousand fruit baskets,” Bucky said while his hands moved to Steve's cheeks, cupping his face.

Steve quirked a brow and said, “And by that, you mean I'm gonna have to buy Natasha a thousand fruit baskets.” The happy smile never left his lips.

“Well, yeah,” Bucky said with a shrug, his own smile happy and his eyes bright. Steve never wanted this look gone from him. “I ain't got any money, ya punk. How the hell am I supposed to buy her anything?”

Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head fondly. He leaned forward to give Bucky's smiling lips a quick couple of kisses, before he pulled back and stood up. “I'm gonna give her a call,” he said, stepping around where Daisy had sat herself down by them.

“You hear that, Daisy?” he heard Bucky say, and when he looked over his shoulder, he saw Bucky grabbing Daisy's head in his hands, a smile on his lips. “The evil snakes are dead and fucking gone.”

Daisy's tail thumped against the coffee table and her ears perked, and Steve smiled softly at them. He only watched them for a brief moment longer, then he stepped away and got his phone back out of his pocket.

Natasha picked up on the third ring.

“I take it you heard the good news,” she said in lieu of greeting, a smile in her voice. In the background, Steve could hear Clint swearing and Lucky barking.

“Natasha, you're incredible,” he told her. “I owe you for the rest of my life.”

“Is that a marriage proposal?” Natasha asked, a teasing tone in her voice now.

“Damn right,” Steve said and smiled widely. “Marry me, Nat.”

Natasha chuckled and said, “Sorry, Rogers. You're one Clint Barton too late.” A beat, then she added, in a soft voice, “And I think I'm one Bucky Barnes too late, too.”

Steve turned and looked back at Bucky. His heart warmed at the mere sight of him, the smile on Bucky's lips and his presence enough to lift any bad mood that lingered in Steve.

Steve had become happier since Bucky broke his way into his life. Things were still rough; he still had bad days and nightmares and still worked himself into exhaustion every single day, but he was happier. Bucky made him happier, Bucky made him feel at home in a place he never thought could be anything but a roof over his head.

Bucky was it for him; Bucky was his home and Bucky was his heart, hideous sweatpants included. And now Bucky was safe.

“Yeah,” Steve said into the phone, his smile growing softer and fonder when Bucky looked away from Daisy and locked eyes with him. “Yeah, you might be right.”

day four–hundred–eighty–seven

There were rough fingers running along his jaw and chin and cheeks, fingers running through the beard covering the lower part of his face. Steve let out a soft sigh, all the tension from a long work day disappearing with the breath and with every stroke of those fingers running through his beard. His own fingers were absently running through long and soft and freshly washed hair, untangling the mess.

Bucky had his head pillowed on Steve's chest, head tilted up just a little. But while Steve was looking at him, Bucky wasn't looking back. Instead, Bucky was watching his own fingers as he carded them through the thick beard on Steve's face.

A hint of a smile appeared on Steve's lips as he watched his boyfriend. It was cute how much Bucky seemed to like his beard. Natasha and Sam had both tried to convince him to shave for ages and Steve had almost been convinced, but then Bucky came around. Now, the beard was there to stay. Forever. Just like Bucky.

They were both in bed, the farm quiet outside and the moon hang high on the dark and starry sky. Steve had one arm wrapped around Bucky's middle to keep him close, their legs were tangled together underneath the covers, and Bucky was practically on top of him, cuddling close. Daisy was laying on Steve's other side, her head resting on his shin, and Atticus was taking up the rest of the space on Bucky's side of the bed.

Both dogs were snoring softly, sound asleep for a near hour now. Neither Steve nor Bucky were asleep. Steve couldn't sleep, not when he could hear Bucky's wheels turning with a noisy mind. So he just laid there, carding his fingers through Bucky's hair and holding him close, letting Bucky cling to him for as long as he needed to.

“I want to see my sister,” Bucky said in a quiet voice, breaking the silence in the room. He still wasn't looking at Steve, was still watching his own fingers running through the beard almost absently.

“Yeah?” Steve whispered back. He stopped petting Bucky's hair for a moment, placing his hand lightly on the back of his head instead.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah,” he echoed. “Hydra's not a threat anymore, and I'm better. She's my sister, Steve.” Finally, he lifted his gaze and met Steve's. “I miss her.”

Steve was an only child, so he didn't fully understand the kind of bond that was between siblings. But he did understand missing family, his own heart aching for his mother just at the thought. Natasha had kept giving Bucky occasional updates on Rebecca, like when she had gone into labor and gave birth to the twins, but it wasn't the same, Steve knew that.

“Okay,” Steve said and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Bucky's forehead. “Indiana's an eight hour drive away. Sam can come watch the farm for a weekend and we can go there.”

“No,” Bucky cut in before he could continue. He ducked his head when he spoke again, hiding his face from him. “No, I... I don't think I'm ready to go that far.”

Steve didn't hesitate before he moved his free hand up and grabbed Bucky's chin, guiding his head back up and making him look at him. “Don't be ashamed or embarrassed about that, Buck,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “I get it. We'll figure something out. Okay?”

Bucky looked at him for a moment, eyes flickering back and forth between Steve's, then he nodded. Silently, he scooted up a little and kissed him. Steve kissed him back with no hesitation, tightening his hold on the back of Bucky's head to keep him close for just a second longer.

“Я люблю тебя, ангел,” Bucky whispered against Steve's lips.

Steve smiled and whispered, “Tá mo chroí istigh ionat.”

Bucky laid his head back on Steve's chest with a soft sigh, wiggling just a little closer to him. Steve wrapped both arms around his middle and kissed his forehead.

“How 'bout this,” Steve said after a minute of silence and after Bucky had made himself comfortable now laying fully on top of him. “I go with Natasha to Indiana and talk with your sister. If she knows you're alive, I'll bet my own left arm that she'll come here and see you in a heartbeat.”

“You'd do that?” Bucky asked in a whisper.

“Buck, I'd do anything for you,” Steve told him, honestly and with no hesitation.

“I'm serious, Steve.”

“So am I.” He paused for a second, waiting for Bucky to meet his eyes. “I'll have Daisy with me and she'll protect me. Natasha will be there and so will Sam if I ask him. I'll be fine. Besides, you're forgetting something about me.” He put on a grin. “I'm a stubborn asshole.”

Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes, the smile forming on his lips small but fond. “Right,” he said. “When you set your mind on something, nothing can stop you or hold you back.”

“Exactly,” Steve said and kissed him. “So, you're okay with it?”

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded and kissed him back. “Don't think I can be away from you for that long though.”

“Phones are a thing, Buck,” Steve said flatly, then winced when Bucky twisted his nipple roughly. “Ow!”

“Shut up, you fucking punk,” Bucky said, a smile in his voice. “I'm gonna text you once a minute and you better respond.”

“Or else?” Steve asked, quirking a questioning brow.

“Or else,” Bucky said and scooted up, straddling him and hovering over him, their lips barely an inch apart. His voice dropped to a husky whisper when he continued. “No phone sex for you.”

“Please don't send me nudes while I'm around Nat and Sam,” Steve whispered back with a small whimper, his hands moving down to rest on Bucky's thighs under the covers. “They'll never let me hear the end of it.”

A wicked grin spread across Bucky's lips. Steve couldn't really see it, not with how close their face were, but he could feel it.

“Don't give me any ideas,” Bucky whispered, breath ghosting over his lips.

Steve groaned and leaned up to kiss him, shutting him up before he could say anything else.

day four–hundred–ninety

Steve was crouched down in the entry way, putting the vest on Daisy and ignoring the repeated mother henning Bucky was doing, when he heard a car pull up by the front of the house. A smile on his lips at the sound of car doors opening and the sound of familiar voices, Steve stood up and clasped the leash onto Daisy.

“Bucky,” he said, cutting Bucky off with an added and pointed look. “I'm a grown ass man and I've got my service dog and two supporters with me. I'll be fine, please shut up. It's not like I'm throwing myself back out on the battlefield.”

Bucky gave him a sour look and said, “You shut up and let me worry about your punk ass.”

With a quiet hum, Steve stepped over and grabbed onto the front of Bucky's shirt. “Nah,” he said and kissed his pouty lips. “Besides, I'll be back before you know it.”

“Not soon enough,” Bucky murmured, and Steve kissed his lips again, firmer this time. He kept peppering soft and firm kisses onto his lips until the pout smoothed over and was replaced by a fond smile and a mock-exasperated shove.

Steve had barely gotten the front door an inch open before Atticus came barreling toward them, nudging the door open the rest of the way and storming outside to greet the visitors with happy barks and a ton of energy. Steve could only roll his eyes at him, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Atticus was running in circles around a beaming Clint when Steve finally stepped out of the door, Daisy trotting alongside him and Bucky not far behind. Natasha was stood leaning against her car, arms crossed and a fond smile on her lips as she watched Clint and Atticus. Lucky was sitting by her side, tail wagging and ears perked.

Sam was stood on the other side of the car, door open and arm resting on the top. He was shaking his head at Clint but soon turned his attention to Steve and raised a hand in a silent greeting. Steve returned it, offering him a smile.

“Can't believe you got your boyfriend out of bed before noon,” Sam called out, a grin on his lips as he gestured to Bucky.

Steve looked over his shoulder and saw Bucky making a face and glaring at Sam, crossing his arms with a huff. Steve chuckled, looked back at Sam, and called out, “Apparently all it takes it me going away for a bit.”

In truth, Bucky hadn't been able to sleep and neither had Steve. They had laid awake long into the early hours of the morning, resting but never really sleeping. Steve had been too anxious about the long drive and meeting Bucky's only alive family member, and Bucky had had another bad nightmare that he wouldn't talk about.

“That or a whole feast for breakfast,” Natasha said, and Steve could more hear than see Bucky's eyes roll. “You ready to get going, Steve?”

Taking in a deep breath, Steve nodded and wrapped Daisy's leash tightly around his closed fist. “Yeah, I'm ready,” he said and send both Natasha and Sam a smile that was easily returned. He turned to Bucky, pausing for a brief moment before he stepped closer to him. “I'll be back first thing tomorrow, okay?”

“That better be a promise,” Bucky said in a lowered voice.

“Cross my heart,” Steve said and smiled reassuringly at him. “I doubt you'll miss me anyway. Clint is gonna be keeping you busy.”

Bucky huffed. “Right.”

“Oh, you don't believe me?” Steve raised a brow, then turned to look at Clint who had crouched down and was letting Atticus lick at his face. He looked at him, zeroing in on Clint's ears just to check, and he smiled when he saw the plastic aids. “Hey, Clint!”

Clint immediately whipped his head around and looked at him. “Yeah, what's up?”

“How many games did you bring?” Steve asked. He could see Natasha rolling her eyes which meant Clint had to have brought a ton.

“So many, bro,” Clint answered with a wide smile. He stood and walked over to them, Atticus moving on to greet Natasha. Lucky trotted over to Clint, following him.

“We,” Clint said and swung an arm around Bucky's shoulders, “are gonna turn you into a true gamer, my friend.”

“See?” Steve turned to Bucky, a smile already in place. “You won't even notice I'm gone.”

Bucky made a face, a small pout pulling his bottom lip out and his brows hanging low.

Clint squeezed him and said, “I'll make sure he won't. It's a bro night, Bucky, my man. We're gonna make so many pizzas-”

Steve interrupted with a groan. “Please don't mess up my kitchen.”

Clint held up his hands, one arm still slung lazily over Bucky's shoulders. “Relax, Cap,” he said. “I'm a professional.”

“He's lying!” Natasha called out, and Bucky snorted.

“Okay, fine.” Clint shrugged. “But how hard can it be? It's pizza, it can't be that hard.”

“Just clean up after yourselves, please,” Steve said with a sigh, looking between the two of them.

Bucky nodded in a silent promise, while Clint saluted. “Aye aye, captain.”

“Good.”

Steve turned his attention to Bucky and Bucky looked back at him. Steve looked at him for a long, long minute before he surged forward, grabbed Bucky's face in his hands, and kissed him; firmly and passionately. If Steve wasn't going to be able to kiss the love of his life for a whole day, then he was going to make the most of this one.

Bucky clutched the front of his shirt with his right hand while the left moved to the back of Steve's head, keeping him close as he kissed him back. They kissed and kissed, and it wasn't until there was a pointed cough from beside them that Steve reluctantly pulled away, resting his forehead against Bucky's.

“I'll see you soon,” Steve whispered softly, opening his eyes as he pulled away.

Bucky stared at him, looking slightly dazed and Steve felt pride swell in his heart for having put that look on him. “Bye,” Bucky whispered back.

Steve leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “I love you,” he said with a smile as he took several step back.

“I love you,” Bucky echoed in a whisper, and Steve's smile turned fond and soft while his heart fluttered happily at the sound of those words.

“Aw,” Clint cooed beside them. Steve looked at him and he couldn't help the blush that crept onto his cheeks at the beaming smile Clint was wearing, Clint looking between them. “You guys are adorable.”

Bucky elbowed him, a blush on his cheeks as well, but Clint didn't budge and only moved closer.

“Hey, Nat!” Clint called out, cupping his mouth with the hand that wasn't gripping Bucky's shoulder. “Are you gonna kiss me goodbye too?”

Steve turned to see Natasha rolling her eyes. She lifted a hand and signed something, a sweet smile growing on her lips as her hands moved. Steve snorted halfway through, while Clint clutched his chest and made a hurt noise.

“I love you too, Nat!” Clint called out, blowing a kiss that had Natasha scoffing. But even though she turned around and hopped back into the car immediately after, Steve caught the smile on her lips and the light pink tinting her cheeks.

Steve looked at Bucky for one last second before he got into the car as well. He sat himself down in the backseat, Daisy laying down next to him with her head in his lap, and Sam got in the passenger seat. A tight grip on Daisy's leash and his ears filled with the music Sam kindly put on the moment Natasha started the car, Steve looked out the window and took in a deep breath as they drove off toward Indiana.

4:36 pm

Indiana was noisy in a way Steve's little secluded area wasn't. Or maybe it was just noisy because of the suburban street they had turned onto, the street more alive than his farm had ever been.

A group of children, all of them no more than ten, were running down the sidewalk, laughing and chattering away loudly, and Steve allowed himself to look at them for a minute, allowed himself to focus on something other than Sam and Natasha's calming voices up front and something other than the music filling the car with a pleasant amount of noise.

Growing up, Steve never had any friends of his own. There had been one boy, Arnie, but Steve hadn't met him until his early teens. Arnie had saved him from a proper ass kicking in a back alley, and Steve had gotten his first real and actual friend. But, like just about any other person in Steve's life, Arnie was no longer around.

But for a second, Steve remembered the good times with Arnie, and while his heart was heavy, the smile on his lips was fond. A little sad, maybe, but fond.

“Here we are,” Natasha's voice cut through his little bubble, and Steve blinked back to reality. The car parked in front of a house that looked so much like the rest of the houses they had driven past, the tree planted in a patch of grass in the front slowly withering away. “Barnes Proctor residence.”

Steve's heart was pounding in his chest. He'd made it; eight hours away from his farm, a place he usually couldn't be more than an hour away from without feeling antsy. And now, he was about to meet the sister of the man he loved. He was about to tell said sister that her brother was alive. Not entirely well, not yet, but alive nonetheless.

“Steve,” Sam said, and Steve pulled himself out of his thoughts before he could spiral, snapping his eyes to Sam's concerned ones. “You good, man?”

Breathe. Count to ten.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a smile and a nod. “I'm okay.”

Sam returned the smile and reached behind his seat to pat Steve's knee. “Proud of you,” he said.

“Okay, boys,” Natasha said, a smile on her lips as well as she unclasped her seat belt. “Let's go give some good news, for once.”

Daisy sat obediently by Steve's right, ears perked, while Sam stood on his left and Natasha stood a step in front of them, knocking on the front door. Steve ignored the clammy feeling in his hands, ignored the noise of a busy street behind him, and focused on the weight of Daisy pressing against his leg and on the sound of the front door unlocking and opening a second after.

Rebecca Barnes Proctor looked so much like her brother, it took Steve by surprise. Her hair was the same color as Bucky's; dark brown with a few almost honey colored highlights. It was long, probably reached down to her hips, but it was gathered in a braid that hang over her left shoulder, a few loose hairs escaping it. Her skin was tan and smooth, her eyes gray but a darker shade than her brother's.

She was tall, maybe only a couple of inches shorter than Bucky and a few taller than Natasha, and she was average sized. She was a beautiful woman, and Steve could see every bit of Bucky in her face. There was no doubt they were family, and Steve's heart ached for her, knowing the pain she had been through.

There was a baby clinging to her neck and resting against her shoulder, sniffling softly and sucking on a colorful pacifier. Rebecca had a hand under it, the other resting gently on its back to keep it close.

Steve's hand clenched around Daisy's leash and he swallowed thickly, the urge to run away suddenly overwhelming. Facing a stranger was one thing. Facing a stranger and a baby was a whole different thing. Babies always did make him nervous.

There was a hand lightly touching his arm and he shot a glance at Sam. Sam was giving him an amused look but the smile on his lips was reassuring. A silent, “I've got your back.” Steve smiled a silent thank you and took in a deep breath.

“Rebecca Barnes Proctor?” Natasha asked in lieu of greeting, reaching into her jacket pocket.

Rebecca looked between the three of them. Her eyes landed on Natasha and stayed, a small furrow between her brows. “That's me.”

“I'm agent Romanoff with Shield,” Natasha said and flashed her badge, her shoulders square and the smile on her lips professional but kind. “These are my friends,” she continued and gestured to Sam and Steve, “Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers. Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Of course,” Rebecca said and stepped aside to let them in, shifting the baby clinging to her neck a little. The smile on her lips was kind yet a little tight. “Let me just go put this little one down and I'll be right there with you. Living room's to the left, if you wanna sit down.”

She took off with another smile and a hand motioning toward the living room. Steve only looked after her for a moment before he followed Natasha and Sam.

The living room was spacious and homely, children's toys scattered across the floor and several pacifiers decorating just about every surface of the place. Steve only spared the slight mess a brief look around however, because then his attention was drawn to the pictures neatly placed on the bookshelf to the right of the couches.

In one of the pictures, a man in a suit and a woman in a wedding dress were smiling happily back at him. The picture looked old but it was well kept and framed in white and gold. In another, two kids between the same man and woman from before were smiling at him, cheeks pressed together. In a third, Rebecca was in a wedding dress herself, a man with a darker shade of brown (possibly even black) hair standing behind her. Both of them were smiling happily at the camera.

But Steve zeroed in on a fourth and found himself unable to look away.

Bucky looked to be no more than seventeen in the framed picture. His hair was cut short, a wild mess on the top, and his smile was bright and toothy. He was so young, much younger than in the picture Rumlow had shown Steve all those months ago. Bucky looked so young in the picture, and Steve's heart broke knowing the horrors this young man would go through.

A military medal hang proudly over the frame, carefully laid out of the way of Bucky's young face. It looked barely touched.

“Huh,” someone said to his right, and Steve glanced that way, saw Sam leaning forward a little, eyes on the picture of a teenage Bucky. “He used to be kinda cute, actually.”

“He's still cute,” Steve argued immediately, elbowing Sam.

“Eh,” Sam said with a shrug, elbowing him back playfully. “He's alright.”

Steve rolled his eyes at him but said nothing. Instead, he dug his phone out of his pocket and snapped a quick picture of the row of photographs assembled on the shelf. He send it to Bucky, adding a heart in the message below.

There was no immediate reply from Bucky, unlike the several other messages they had exchanged during the whole trip to Indiana, but Steve wasn't worried. Bucky was probably just taking it all in and Steve gave him the time to do so.

Steve didn't get to check his phone for a message even if Bucky did reply anyway, because then Rebecca stepped into the living room, a smile on her lips and no baby clinging onto her any longer. Her eyes drifted over to Daisy, who was still staying by Steve's side. She looked at her for only a moment, before she lifted her gaze to Steve and send him a sweet smile.

She made no comment and asked no questions, and Steve felt it a little easier to breathe.

“So,” Rebecca turned to Natasha. “I heard about the whole Hydra deal. I just wanted to say, I think Shield did an incredible job taking those guys down. The world's a better place after what you did, so thank you.”

Natasha lowered her head a little, a short nod as a silent thank you. “That's actually why we're here,” she said.

Rebecca blinked at her, confusion written clearly on her face. Her eyes flickered to Sam and Steve for only a moment before they returned to Natasha. “Okay,” she said slowly and moved to sit down.

Natasha did the same, taking the seat opposite Rebecca. Sam put a hand on Steve's shoulder and moved over to sit down as well. Steve followed, sitting down on Sam's right and putting a hand on Daisy's back in a silent command to lay down.

“Mrs. Barnes,” Natasha started after sucking in a breath.

“Please,” Rebecca said, confusion still obvious on her face but now masked with a smile. “Call me Becca.”

“Becca,” Natasha repeated. She paused for a second and Steve glanced at her. She looked hesitant, like she still wasn't sure how to start saying this even though she had spend a good sixty percent of the trip over contemplating it.

He almost wanted to jump in and help her but he didn't know how to start either.

“Shield worked for months tracking down every known and unknown Hydra facilities all around the globe,” Natasha continued after only a second. “We've been trying to catch them and their leader, Pierce, for years, but it was only recently that we've been able to get anywhere.”

“Because of your anonymous source, right?” Becca asked when Natasha paused for a beat too long.

Natasha nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Our anonymous source is someone Hydra captured and brainwashed into killing for them. He escaped, recovered enough of his memories to tell us what we needed to know, and helped us where he could.”

Becca's face was carefully emotionless while she listened, Steve realized as he watched her.

“It's because of him,” Natasha continued, “that we were able to stop Hydra. For good.”

“That's good,” Becca said, smiling despite sounding so obviously confused. Her expression was unreadable but the lines on her face were hard. She looked like she was bracing herself for the worst, unknowing that she was supposed to brace herself for the best.

Natasha fell silent for a moment. “Your brother died in combat back in 2011, yes?” she asked.

“Yes,” Becca said, her brows pinched together. “Bucky went missing in action and was presumed dead. What does that have to do with anything?”

“He's alive, Becca,” Natasha told her softly.

Steve watched as Becca's eyes widened, watched as she sucked in a breath in surprise.

“He's the one who helped us take down Hydra,” Natasha said. “We couldn't have done it without him.”

Becca was quiet for a moment, as was everyone else. Sam shifted slightly where he sat next to Steve, and Steve shot him a quick glance. He looked about ready to get up and comfort Becca, but he was staying put. Becca, who was getting more and more teary eyed by the second.

“Captured and brainwashed?” Becca choked out finally.

Natasha nodded. “Hydra's MO. Fortunately, he made it out alive.”

“Is he okay?”

Natasha looked to Steve, Becca's eyes following immediately.

“Getting there,” Steve told her after a beat.

“Recovery takes a long time,” Sam spoke up. “He's definitely a lot better than when Steve found him, but he's still got a long way to go.”

Becca looked from Sam to Steve. “You found him?” she asked.

Steve nodded, an amused and fond smile crookedly on his lips when he said, “He broke into my barn.”

Becca let out a chuckle, sniffling. “Your barn?”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a nod. “He's been living on my farm since then.”

That had Becca letting out a surprised laughter. “Bucky? On a farm?” She shook her head, snorting and carefully wiping under her eyes. “Now that's something I never thought I'd hear.”

“Bucky wasn't much of a country kind of guy?” Sam guessed, a grin on his lips.

“God no, are you kidding?” Becca rolled her eyes and sniffled lightly. “Bucky was a real city boy. He used to go to bars all the time, even though he was never old enough. He went dancing most weekends too. I can't even count how many guys he fooled around with. There always seemed to be a new one.”

Steve couldn't help but smile, intrigued to hear about Bucky's old life. He very pointedly ignored the jealousy that hit him though. He had nothing to be jealous of; that was a long time ago and Bucky was with him now.

“A farm is definitely the last place I'd think he'd be,” Becca said with a small chuckle. She paused for a moment to let out a heavy breath before she looked at them again, her face a little harder again. “This isn't a joke, right? You're sure he's actually alive?”

As if on cue, Steve's phone buzzed in his pocket. Natasha spoke before he could, so he took the time to dig his phone out and open the message Bucky had send him.

> [05:13 PM] Bucky: how is she??

“He really is alive,” Natasha was saying. “Not officially. At least, not yet. Hydra only just got taken down for good, but we're working on bringing him back to life officially and legally.”

Steve lifted his gaze from the message and looked at Becca. She took in a deep breath, a smile curled at the corners of her lips, and she was clutching her chest. She looked ready to start crying, her eyes shiny with unshed tears, and Steve let a little smile of his own form on his lips before he replied to Bucky.

The answer was obvious. The answer was shining out of her like a beacon.

< [05:14 PM] Steve: Happy.

Becca was quiet for a minute, taking in breath after breath and blinking back tears. Then, once she had calmed herself down a little, she asked, “Can I see him?”

“Of course,” Natasha said. “Hydra isn't a threat anymore, it's completely safe.”

“Bucky would love to see you,” Steve added. He paused for a beat before he continued. “But he's not ready to come this far.”

“Then I will come to him,” Becca said, no hesitation. She sat up a little straighter, a determined nod following her statement.

A soft smile formed on Steve's lips before he could do anything about it. It looked like he didn't have to offer up his own left arm after all, because Becca had proven to be exactly like he'd pictures her from all the stories Bucky had told him; stubborn, determined, strong, loved her family more than anything.

Only thing she had yet to prove was that she was, according to Bucky, a little shit, but he figured all that would take was to be around her brother again.

“He would love that,” Steve told her honestly, smiling softly when she met his eye.

A baby wailed in the distance, disturbing their conversation and bringing it to an abrupt halt. In an instant, Becca went from being smiley and teary eyed to hard faced and Mom Mode. She let out a quiet sigh before she stood.

“I'll be right back,” she said, then left the living room in a rushed walk.

Now that they were alone, Steve let out a slow and heavy breath as he allowed himself to crumble a little and lean heavily back on his seat. Daisy sat up and put her head in his lap immediately, while Sam reached over to pat his shoulder.

“You doing alright, man?” he asked, and Steve nodded. “'Cause I know how you are with babies.”

Steve shot him a warning look of narrowed eyes, doing the same with Natasha when she snorted. “I'm fine with babies, I don't know what you're talking about,” he said, the lie terrible even to his own ears. Both of them knew exactly how uncomfortable babies made him.

“Oh, so when we were in town last month and you ran across the street to get away from a baby carriage, that was what, just my imagination?” Sam asked.

“Or what about when Sharon came to visit with her new baby and you tripped over your own feet trying to get away?” Natasha asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

“Or what about-”

“Alright, shut up,” Steve groaned and buried his face in his hands. Daisy nudged the back of them and he sighed. “Babies make me nervous but I don't want to be rude to Bucky's sister, so please shut up.”

Becca returned then and, much to Steve's appreciation, both Natasha and Sam shut up. A baby was clinging to Becca's neck, the same one who had been clinging to her when she had opened the door for them. Or maybe it was the twin, Steve wasn't really sure.

“So,” Becca said as she sat back down, shifting the baby to a more comfortable position. “You're all friends with Bucky?”

Boyfriend, Steve wanted to say. But he hadn't discussed with Bucky whether he wanted Becca to know they were together or not, so he didn't.

Sam huffed in a quiet laugh and said, “Sometimes I wish I wasn't, but yeah.”

Becca looked at him, blinked, and then smiled fondly, her eyes filling with shiny tears again. “I take it he's still a piece of shit?”

Steve let out a small huff at the same time Natasha did, while Sam nodded.

“Oh yeah,” Sam said, a smile on his lips even as he rolled his eyes. “Giant piece of shit.”

Becca laughed, the baby making small noises around its pacifier. “That makes me really happy,” she said, wiping under her eyes before her hand returned to the baby. “For a second there, I was afraid he'd lost that. I mean, he's probably not the same as before, but at least he's still that.”

“I don't know what he was like before,” Steve said, keeping his hand on Daisy's head and ignoring the baby looking at him, “but Bucky's one of the best people I've ever known. He lost himself for a while, couldn't remember who he was, but he's been piecing himself back together over the past year. It's a long and rough fight but he's a trooper.”

Steve didn't mean for the fondness and love he felt for Bucky to seep their way into his words, but he couldn't help it. He felt his cheeks heat up a little under Becca's sudden intense stare. She was giving him a calculating look, he knew.

“You sound like you really care about him,” she said after a minute of silence, her voice tight and smile soft.

“I do,” Steve told her honestly, flushing.

Becca's smile widened, softness growing. “I'm glad,” she said in a small voice. “Thank you.” Her eyes shifted from Steve to Sam and then Natasha, flickering between the three of them. “All of you. Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“Well, it's my job,” Natasha said.

“That's Natasha for you're welcome,” Steve told Becca and pointedly ignored Natasha's nudging elbow.

Becca chuckled, and the baby made a noise as it dropped its head against its mother's. “God,” Becca breathed and leaned back. She took in a deep, shuttering breath and when she spoke again, her voice was a near whisper. “He's really alive? Like, this isn't a joke or anything? 'Cause that would be real cruel, you know.”

“Not a joke,” Natasha said. “He's alive and breathing and probably texting Steve right now, if the buzzing coming from his ass is anything to go by.”

Steve flushed at the mention. His phone was buzzing like crazy in his pocket and he didn't even have to check to know it was Bucky becoming impatient with the lack of replies he was getting. He cleared his throat, embarrassed, and shifted to dig out the phone.

Ten unopened messages from Bucky, eight of them just repeating his name in various stages of caps lock and the tenth... well...

> [05:37 PM] Bucky: st EVE answer me or no nudes for u

With a low groan and heat rising to his face, Steve hid his face behind his other hand and closed his eyes. Daisy whined and put her head in his lap again.

“Is it him?” he heard Becca ask curiously. “What does he say?”

Steve responded with a brief shake of his head. He didn't even bother turning his phone away when both Natasha and Sam leaned over to sneak a peek at the still opened message from Bucky. Natasha snickered and Sam made a noise of disgust.

“Christ,” Sam said, shoving Steve's phone away. “I think you're better off not knowing, Becca. I wish I didn't know.”

“Oh relax, Sam,” Natasha said. “It's not like he actually send one.”

“No, but now I know he probably will later.”

“And?”

“And that's more information than I ever needed.”

“Guys, shut up,” Steve murmured, uncovering his face. He dared a quick glance at Becca, saw her looking at him in confusion and slight amusement, but he quickly averted his gaze and busied himself with replying.

< [05:40 PM] Steve: Thanks for that, jerk.

> [05:40 PM] Bucky: did u blush??

< [05:41 PM] Steve: >:(

Bucky didn't reply right away, so Steve put his phone down on his thigh instead, screen down, and reached over to scratch Daisy behind her ear. She made a soft noise and leaned into his touch, eyes falling closed as she shifted closer.

Becca was smiling at him when he looked at her next. He would almost say her smile was knowing, as well as soft and kind; like she had figured it out. But she said nothing about it. The baby in her arms demanded attention before she could even open her mouth, but Steve had a feeling she wasn't going to ask either way.

The baby made a small noise around its pacifier and reached a chubby hand out toward Steve, and Steve immediately stiffened. He swallowed while the baby gurgled and closed and opened its tiny fist on repeat. Becca noticed and looked down at her child, then at Steve and smiled at him.

“Do you want to hold her?” she asked, shifting the baby. “Tina doesn't bite, don't worry.”

Steve's phone buzzed against his thigh but he ignored it. “I,” he started and then stopped, stammering out several attempt and all of them failing. “Well- I- I'm not- Maybe-”

Sam cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. Thank God for Sam Wilson.

“Babies make him nervous,” Sam told Becca, and Steve sunk into his seat, slumping back and ducking his head. “But I'll hold her, if that's okay.”

Becca laughed and stood at the same time as Sam did, handing the baby (Tina, apparently) over into his arms. “Don't worry,” she said to Steve after sitting back down. “I was nervous around babies once too. Now I've got two and not quite as nervous anymore.”

Steve offered her a small, unsure smile before he turned his attention to Sam. Sam sat back down, the baby cradled in his arms. He looked like he was a natural with a baby, the baby making happy noises at him and patting at his cheeks. It was actually pretty cute, Steve had to admit, and he almost forgot how awkward he felt.

But then his phone buzzed against his thigh again and he was pulled out of watching Sam playing with the baby. The other three (even Natasha who was leaning over Steve casually despite always having claimed of having zero interest in children) were busy with the baby, so Steve leaned back and pulled the phone close to himself, opening the messages from Bucky.

> [05:42 PM] Bucky: i'll take that as a yes ;)
> [05:51 PM] Bucky: [image attached]

Despite the threat of sending nudes while he was around Natasha and Sam, the image wasn't that. No, it was of Clint laid out on the floor, flat on his back with both Atticus and Lucky on top of him.

Steve didn't fight the fond and soft smile that pulled at his lips. For a second he considered taking a picture of the scene before him – Sam and Becca both cooing at Tina, and Natasha letting her hold her finger in a tight grip – but he decided against it.

Bucky would probably want the first time he saw Becca again to be with his own two eyes and not through the lens of Steve's phone.

Day became late evening and Becca's husband (Christian, he introduced himself as) came home from a long day at work. Becca told him that her brother was alive, tears spilling before the words were even fully out of her mouth. It was like it wasn't until she said the words herself that she truly realized it was real. Christian hugged her close, looked at the three guests in surprise and something near shock, and Natasha told him the story.

Steve ended up awkwardly holding the other twin (Mike, Becca told him as she gently laid him down in Steve's waiting arms) for only a couple of minutes, before he had to hand him back to Becca.

Yeah, babies were not his thing.

(Sam made fun of him for it on and off for a good hour after.

“A brick house like you and you're afraid of babies,” he cackled. “You've literally been to war and babies is what you're scared of.”

“I'm not afraid,” Steve argued, flushed and grumbling. “Shut up.”)

They stuck around only a few more hours, exchanging stories of Bucky, before the three of them decided to leave. Steve left his phone number and address to Becca, letting her know she could come by anytime and that Bucky would be there.

She looked on the verge of tears every time someone even said his name and Steve couldn't blame her. If someone told him his mother or his unit were alive somewhere, even after all this time, he would probably react the same way.

day four–hundred–ninety–two

Daisy stretched and dropped her mouth open in a tired yawn, her paws sliding against the wood of the porch. With a soft harrumph, she laid herself down on her stomach and rested her head on the porch, tail wagging and thumping briefly against the back of Steve's foot before laying still.

Steve was leaning against the porch railing, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes glued to the empty dirt road leading up to the farm house.

To his right, Atticus was walking around the grown grass, tail held high and ears perked as he watched the quietly mooing cows like a hawk. Behind Steve, back inside the house, Bucky was walking aimlessly around, fidgeting with his hair and tugging down the sleeves of his (Steve's) shirt.

Or so Steve assumed, at least. That was what Bucky had been doing last time he looked inside the house.

Becca had send him a text that morning, letting him know she would be arriving sometime in the middle of the day. It was now the middle of the day and after having had enough of Bucky's fidgeting and restless bouncing, Steve had stepped outside and given him some space to breathe and gather himself.

Steve wasn't sure how long he had been standing there, waiting. It could have been a couple of minutes or it could have been more than ten, his concept of time wasn't all that great anymore. But soon enough, there was an unfamiliar car coming driving down the dirt road.

Atticus started barking and Steve stood up straight, while Daisy lifted her head and perked her ears with interest. He watched as the car pulled up and came to a parked stop by the house, and when he saw Becca sitting in the front seat, he smiled and stepped off the porch, holding a hand out to silently tell Daisy to stay put.

“If this is all a big joke,” Becca started as she got out of the car, closing the door after her and stretching briefly, “and you made me drive all the way out here just to kill me, I'll have you know my husband will take your ass to court.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head, coming to a stop a few steps away from her. “I promise, this is not a joke,” he said and smiled softly when she eyed him mock-suspiciously.

“I'll believe you when I see-” Becca cut herself off abruptly and the teasing glint in her eyes disappeared in an instant. It was replaced by a wide eyed look, her mouth dropping open in a small gape, and she sucked in a quick breath.

Steve didn't need to look to know what – or rather, who – she had seen, but he found himself turning and looking over his shoulder anyway.

Bucky was standing just outside the threshold of the front door, head bowed a little but eyes firmly on Becca. His shoulders were tense, right hand clenched into a fist and left hand buried deep in the pocket of his sweatpants. His jaw was clenched and much like Becca, his eyes shined with unshed tears.

“Bucky,” Becca breathed after the two had stood and looked at each other in silence for a good couple of minutes. Her eyes never left Bucky as she moved forward, and it was only when Steve gave Bucky an encouraging nod and a reassuring smile that Bucky moved forward as well, legs carrying him toward her.

They stopped a few steps away from each other, Bucky looking tense and Becca fighting back the tears that nearly spilled over her cheeks anyway. Steve took a few steps back and leaned against the porch railing once more, giving them some space and privacy but keeping himself close enough to be there for Bucky if he needed him.

Becca sniffled and took half a step closer, eyes roaming over Bucky's face. “Can I touch you?” she asked in a whisper, her hand twitching to rise but staying put by her side.

Bucky seemed to hesitate for a moment but eventually he gave her a short nod. Becca raised her hand, let it hover beside his cheek for a brief second before she finally made contact. And Bucky seemed to lose all the tension he was holding in his shoulder, leaning into his sister's hand with a sigh.

“Oh, Bucky,” Becca said, her voice breaking as her brother's name left her lips. She practically fell forward, wrapping her arms around Bucky and pulling him into a tight hug.

From where he was standing, Steve could see Bucky tense for only a split second but he very quickly melted into his sister's arms. The left hand that had been buried in the deep pocket of his sweatpants slowly moved out into the light, the metal gleaming slightly in the setting sun, and Bucky brought both arms around Becca, hugging her back tightly and burying his face in her shoulder.

Steve smiled at the sight of them, his heart warming as the two siblings hugged.

It took a long while before either of the two seemed to be able to detach themselves from each other. Becca kept squeezing Bucky, kept pulling away to look at him and to touch him and to ask if he he was really there. The answers came in a nod and a choked out yes every single time, and then they would hug again.

Atticus came trotting over sometime in the middle of it, intended to greet the newcomer in the same manner he greeted just about anyone. But Steve was quick to tell him to stop, sit, and give the Barnes siblings the space to properly reunite and reassure themselves that the other was there; that it was real.

It took a long while but eventually they detached themselves and relocated on the couch in the living room. Steve left them alone for a brief couple of minutes to get the three of them something to drink, and when he stepped into the living room, he sat down by Bucky's side, Daisy laying down next to him and Atticus returning to the field outside.

“Your hair's gonna outgrow mine if you keep this up,” Becca was saying, smiling as her fingers carefully slid through Bucky's hair. He had opted for letting it hang loose after switching between ponytail and bun and braid and a variety of styles before Becca had showed up.

“I kinda like it like this,” Bucky said with a shrug. He glanced at Steve, then looked back at Becca and added, “Steve does too.”

Steve blushed and quickly looked away when Becca send him a look and a raised brow.

“Oh, Steve does, does he?” Becca said, a teasing tone in her voice.

“Mhm,” Bucky hummed. Steve felt another pair of eyes on him, so he turned his head further away. “Yeah, he thinks it looks real nice. Don't you, Stevie?”

“Yep,” Steve answered immediately and shortly, busying himself with sipping at the glass of water he brought himself.

Bucky snorted, and Becca chuckled.

“Okay, I have to ask,” she said after the two had calmed down and stopped teasing Steve. “You two,” she wagged a finger between the two of them, “are together, right? I'm not just getting a whole lot of pining vibes here, am I?”

Steve looked at Bucky, Bucky looked back.

Steve wanted to say yes. He wanted to declare his love for Bucky to the whole world, as loud and as obnoxiously as he could possibly manage. But it wasn't up to him. This was Bucky's choice and Steve was going to let him make it by himself.

After a beat of silence, Bucky turned back to Becca. “He's my boyfriend,” he said, and Steve's heart fluttered and warmed.

“I knew it!” Becca exclaimed, beaming and smiling brightly at them. She pointed at Steve and said, “You kept making heart-eyes whenever you talked about him, so I figured something had to be up.”

This time when Bucky turned to look at him and Steve felt his face heat up with a blush, Steve didn't look away. He just met Bucky's eyes and smiled at him, unashamed about his love for him. There were a lot of things he was ashamed of – many of which were hidden away in the shed outside – but loving Bucky was not one of them.

Bucky smiled back at him, soft and fond. Steve wanted to kiss him but he bit back the urge.

Becca lightly punched Bucky's shoulder, and Bucky whirled his head around to look at her. “I can't believe you got yourself a boyfriend by breaking into his barn,” she said and laughed. Her laughter died down quick though, and in a soft voice, she said, “God, I missed you.”

A smile slowly formed on Bucky's lips. “I missed you too, squirt.”

“Nu-uh, you don't get to call me that anymore,” Becca said, pointing a finger at him. “I'm a grown ass woman now. I'm married, I have kids, got a full time job and everything. No more squirt.”

Bucky's face started falling partway through her sentence, his shoulders slumping as he curled in on himself a little. “Sorry I missed your wedding,” he said, his voice small and his gaze lowered.

Steve frowned at him, twitching to reach out and take his hand. But the one closest to him, Bucky's left, was still buried in his pocket and out of sight in what could only be shame and embarrassment and disgust.

Steve hated that Bucky still thought like that about his arm, hated that he thought he had to hide. They were working on it – Steve was constantly reminding him that he was beautiful, every part of him was beautiful – but, well, it took time.

“Hey.” Becca's voice was soft and she raised a hand to under Bucky's chin, lifting his head back up and making him look at her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn't choose this, Bucky. Don't you ever apologize for it, okay?”

Bucky was silent for a few seconds, then he nodded slowly. “Okay,” he whispered.

Becca nodded back and fell silent. She looked Bucky over for a minute. Steve saw her eyes lingering on the hidden left arm for a second longer than they did anywhere else. A little crease appeared between her brows, a sadness in her eyes. Steve knew what she was going to ask before she even opened her mouth.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked, her voice still soft but there was a certain tightness in it that wasn't there before.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why are you hiding your hand from me?”

Bucky's facial expression went from hinting at sad to unreadable but hard and pinched in the blink of an eye. Steve watched as his jaw clenched and, if he really strained to listen, he could hear the faint whirring of plates of metal shifting, which meant Bucky was clenching his fist.

He wanted to reach out and give him a comforting touch but he didn't. Instead, he curled his right hand into a fist and reached out for Daisy with his left to keep himself from doing so.

Becca wasn't pushing when Bucky didn't respond immediately. Her face only grew softer and sadder by each second that passed in almost tense silence. She wasn't pushing, she was waiting patiently for Bucky to tell her in his own time.

In that moment, Steve loved her for that. For being patient and not pushing.

It could have been a minute or it could have been five before Bucky finally moved. His face was still hard and unreadable as he slowly slid his left hand out of the pocket he had kept it hidden in for hours by now. It wasn't clenched and the plates were still and quiet when the hand came into view.

Steve only looked at it for a brief second before he looked to Becca.

When Becca's eyes fell onto the hand Bucky presented her almost timidly, her face crumbled. She looked heartbroken; brows pinched together, eyes filling with shiny tears, lips coming together in a tight and thin line. She only looked at the hand for about ten seconds before she lifted her gaze and met Bucky's.

“Your whole arm?” she asked, her question coming out in a tight voice and a quick breath.

Bucky nodded, voice lowered when he spoke. “Shoulder too.”

Becca looked at him, her head tilting slightly to the side and a heartbreaking look in her eyes. She looked at him, then slowly looked back down at the hand still held out for her. She said nothing for a while, but there was no disgust in her eyes. Only sadness. Steve figured she was just taking it in.

“Can I?” she asked after a minute, voice not as tight anymore after clearing her throat and her question unfinished. But her hand hovered near Bucky's metal one, finishing it for her.

Bucky gave a short jerk of a nod, and Becca lightly traced her fingertips across the cool metal of Bucky's hand. Steve watched as she slid her fingers around the plates, watched as her heartbreaking expression slowly transformed into one of wonder as she traced the metallic fingers and the metallic wrist. She never once pushed the sleeve of Bucky's shirt up to look further, didn't even ask.

After a while, Becca looked up at Bucky again and smiled at him. “Well,” she started. Her voice was soft and her hand wrapped around Bucky's. “You always said being a cyborg would be cool.”

Bucky's smile appeared slowly and softly, and his hand slowly and carefully curled around Becca's.

Steve smiled softly at the two, his hand absently playing with Daisy's ears. He leaned back against the arm of the couch and watched as Becca marveled at Bucky's arm, watched as Bucky laughed and let her play with the fingers of his hand, watched as Bucky's sad expression melted into one of happiness.

And when Bucky looked his way, a smile stuck to his lips, Steve could only smile back.

The pleasant and lighthearted atmosphere that had overcome them as they sat in the living room didn't last long. It was only a matter of time before Bucky asked this question, Steve figured. It was only a matter of time before the calm was broken and a storm washed over them.

Becca had her hand wrapped around Bucky's – the right one, the left resting on Bucky's own thigh, palm down – and a soft smile was on her lips, her eyes never once leaving Bucky, when Bucky opened his mouth and spoke.

“Becca,” he started, seeming hesitant for a second before he continued. His eyes were downcast as he said, “I've got... gaps in my memory. Don't really remember everything. Not yet, maybe not ever. And I...” He trailed off, shifting and clearing his throat before he started again. “Mom and dad... how'd it happen?”

Becca's smile disappeared the moment Bucky mentioned their parents, and her gaze left Bucky to meet Steve's. She was asking a silent question – maybe silently pleading, he wasn't sure – but Steve didn't know what the question was, so he just returned her look with a questioning one of his own.

“Bucky,” Becca said after a pause, her voice soft and eyes back on her brother. “You don't remember what happened to them because it happened after you died. Or disappeared, I should say.”

“Becca,” Bucky said. “Tell me.”

Becca met Steve's eyes again but this time it was only for a second. “I don't know if that's a good idea, Bucky,” she said in a small voice.

“Becca,” Bucky repeated, persistent.

Becca's pleading look was like a punch and it took only a second before it hit Steve.

“Bucky,” he said and reached forward. He never got to finish what he wanted to say, because then Bucky's eyes snapped to him and Steve's words got caught in his throat at the glare he received.

“No,” Bucky bit out. “I want to know.”

“Okay,” Becca said, and Bucky looked back at her. Steve did too. Becca was squeezing Bucky's hand and her brows were pinched, eyes sad. “Okay, I'll tell you.”

She took in a deep breath and started speaking. “It was a couple of months after we got the letter, the one that told us you'd been killed in action. Dad started drinking daily and mom didn't stop crying after she saw your empty casket. They, uh.” She paused for a moment to clear her throat when her voice started wavering. “Neither of them should've been driving, but... dad said he was fine, so he did anyway.”

Bucky was sitting stock still, face unreadable. Steve wanted to reach out but didn't.

“They crashed,” Becca continued, her voice small and tight and breaking a little. “Dad wasn't paying attention to the road, probably too drunk. Mom couldn't have been paying attention, she never stopped grieving. She'd stopped caring after the letter. About everything. So, they crashed. Neither of them made it.”

Bucky sat completely still. His face was hard, jaw clenched tightly and brows pinched. It didn't look like he was breathing either. He was sitting as still as a statue, unmoving and unblinking.

And then it happened in an instant. He crumbled; he broke and fell apart in a second.

He buried his face in his hands, the first sob that escaped him piercing Steve's heart like a bullet shot from a gun. Bucky drew in on himself, shaking and trembling and whispering broken apologies over and over again as he crumbled and broke and fell apart.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered in a small and tight and broken voice, repeating the words over and over and over again.

Steve wanted to reach out and hold him, his heart breaking for him, but Becca beat him to it.

Becca wrapped her arms around Bucky and pulled him close, cradling him and shushing him. She looked close to crumbling herself, but it was obvious that she didn't let herself break. She rocked them gently back and forth, Bucky leaning heavily into her and his sobs and cries and apologies got released against her shoulder.

“It wasn't your fault,” Becca told him in a tight whisper, repeating it every time Bucky apologized.

Daisy whined in Steve's lap and Steve held her a little tighter. His heart broke while Bucky crumbled and fell apart in Becca's arms.

6:43 pm

When Bucky had stopped crying and apologizing on repeat, he'd leaned heavily into Becca and Becca had held him close and continued to reassure him that what had happened to their parents wasn't his fault. Even after he stopped apologizing, she kept letting him know.

Steve had sat and watched them for only a few minutes, before he had stood and left to give them some space and privacy. Daisy had been reluctant to follow him, sensing that Bucky needed comfort, but she had gone after him anyway.

Steve spend only a few hours on the farm, finishing up the work that Becca's visit had interrupted. And when dark started to fall and dinner time started to creep up on him – his rumbling stomach reminded him that he'd accidentally gone without eating for a few hours too long, again – Steve got the chickens back in their coop and the cows back in their stables, Atticus helping him enthusiastically and Daisy sitting and watching from a few feet away.

It was only when he stood back on the porch, arms and shoulders and whole entire body sore and exhausted from having been moving nonstop for hours and hours and sweat staining the pits of his shirt, that he felt himself hesitate. His hand stopped after gripping the handle of the front door tightly, Daisy and Atticus standing to each of his sides and waiting to be let in.

He hesitated, not because he suddenly felt unwelcome in his own house, but because he didn't know what he was going to see when he did step in. He didn't know if he would find Bucky in a worse state than when he had left him, and the mere thought of that made his heart shatter and fall into the pit of his stomach.

He didn't know if he could handle that. But it wasn't about him, he had to remind himself, and he forced himself to push the door open and step inside.

Atticus went straight to the kitchen, panting and immediately slurping down the water in his bowl that was waiting for him, and Daisy took a second to stretch and yawn in the entry way while Steve stepped out of his dirty boots and got out of his jacket and put his hat away.

From the living room, he could hear Becca's voice talk. It was soft and calming, and the worry that had been building in Steve's chest eased away in a single breath when he heard a small and familiar chuckle. He smiled, happy that Bucky was at least feeling good enough to laugh even if it was just a little.

Carefully and as silently as he could manage (Daisy's paws were clacking against the floor, disrupting the peaceful quiet more than his own socked feet), Steve walked toward the living room and stopped in the doorway. A fond smile was already formed on his lips when he leaned against the frame and brought his arms up to cross over his chest.

The Barnes siblings were still on the couch where he had left them a few hours ago. Becca was resting against both the back and the far left arm, and Bucky was laying against her, his legs taking up the rest of the space on the couch. His head was pillowed against her chest and shoulder, her arms wrapped around him, and she was holding a phone in her hands, thumb brushing over the screen every few seconds as she spoke in a soft voice.

Bucky looked exhausted. He looked seconds from falling asleep but he looked happy. There was a hint of a smile curling at his lips, the hard lines from earlier removed as he let himself be held by his sister.

And Steve loved him. With every cell in his body, every fiber of his being, everything he had – he loved him. He wasn't the only one either.

Even from here and even though he didn't know her very well yet, Steve could see the love Becca had for her brother; in the way she spoke, the way she brushed Bucky's hair out of his face once in a while, the way she smiled when Bucky chuckled and huffed, the way she held him like she didn't want to let go of him ever again.

Steve's heart warmed at the sight, his smile growing softer and fonder and wider.

He stood there for a couple of minutes, Daisy sitting by his side for only one before she trotted off into the kitchen for some water. He stood there, watching them with a fond look on his face, and his smile only softened when Bucky shifted slightly and looked his way.

Becca was still talking in a soft and lowered voice when Bucky reached a hand out toward Steve, and Steve didn't hesitate to walk over toward him. Becca stopped talking, however, when Bucky curled a hand into a fist around the front of Steve's shirt and pulled him down. Steve had half a mind to resist but he let himself get pulled down anyway, meeting Bucky halfway in a kiss.

It was soft and firm and only lasted a few seconds before Steve pulled away again, pecking Bucky's lips once then twice as they parted.

Becca was smiling softly at them when Steve glanced her way, his cheeks warm under his beard. Bucky smiled too as he snuggled back into his sister's hold.

“I'm gonna make us some dinner,” Steve said and stood back up straight, brushing his fingers across Bucky's cheek in a gentle caress that Bucky leaned into, his eyelids fluttering for a second and Steve's heart skipped a beat. But he recovered quickly and turned his attention to Becca. “Is there anything you can't eat, Becca?”

“As long as it's kosher, I'm good,” Becca said, sending him a smile.

Steve nodded and said, “Noted.” He left the two of them again but not before bending down and pressing a soft kiss to Bucky's forehead, nose, and another peck on his lips.

Dinner was served within the hour, the dogs munching away at their own bowls before coming to lay down by the table; Daisy by Steve's feet and Atticus between Bucky and Becca. Atticus wasn't being subtle about his begging. He had only just finished swallowing up his own food and yet there he was.

Becca just patted his head with a chuckle, and Bucky sneaked a few bites down to him. Steve send him a disapproving look, and Bucky smiled innocently at him while wrapping a foot around Steve's ankle. Steve didn't complain … much.

(He did blush though, and Bucky kissed him.)

With his own plate empty and Daisy's head warming his feet, Steve leaned back in his chair and looked between the two siblings laughing at a memory of their past, one that Becca had mentioned and Bucky had remembered after a few seconds.

He was happy; happy that Bucky finally had his sister back and that Becca had her brother. He was happy because Bucky was laughing, and that – that was Steve's favorite sound.

day five–hundred–seventeen

There was a heavy feeling weighing down his heart as Steve slowly pushed the door to the shed open, the hinges whining at the slow movement and the door creaking. He felt empty yet overwhelmed all at once at the sight he was met with despite knowing exactly what he would see when he opened the door.

The place was still as much of a mess as it had always been. The motorcycle was no longer in there, currently standing beside his pickup truck and was there to stay now that he was riding it again, and it no longer took up too much space in there. But the shed was overflowing with things, ranging from useless to broken and in several pieces.

Some of the boxes that had been stacked somewhat neatly (by Sam) in the corner of the shed had been knocked over, the content spilling out on the messy floor below. Spiderwebs hang in the corners where wall became ceiling, a visible layer of dust covered every surface, it was a mess.

Steve's Shed Of Shame hadn't changed much over the years. Only twice had it changed; first the year before when the Shed (previously known as his Depression Cave, credit to Natasha for the name) had been his spare room which was now Bucky's room, and second several months ago when the motorcycle had been rolled out and stayed out.

It was a mess, filled to the brim with the ghosts of Steve's past. And it was a constant reminder that he wasn't moving on. Not really, not fully.

Taking in a deep breath and letting it back out slowly to calm himself, Steve told himself to take a step forward. But his body wasn't moving. He kept telling himself to go in and do what he had decided he was ready for, but he wasn't moving.

He was still standing there, trying to get himself to go inside, when he heard footsteps coming over toward him. It was only when those footsteps were closer that he bothered tearing his eyes away from his ghosts and shame and looked to his right.

There was a questioning and curious look on Bucky's face, his brows pinching together just slightly and his eyes full of both worry and curiosity. He had a smudge of oil on his cheek too, Steve noticed when he stopped only half a step away from him, and Steve knew he had been fucking with the tractor.

But Steve said nothing about it because he didn't care. Not at the moment, at least.

He let out another breath and looked back into the shed. Bucky wasn't asking verbally, and Steve wasn't answering the silent question that had been asked. Not for another few minutes of silence, and when he did speak, he wasn't looking away from the inside.

“I think,” he started, cutting himself off to clear his throat when he realized his voice was rough. “I think I'm ready to clean this place.”

Steve wasn't looking at him but he knew the worry and questioning look faded away into a soft smile that grew on Bucky's lips. Bucky didn't say anything either. He just grabbed Steve's hand and gave it a squeeze, silently telling him that he was right there with him.

And Steve stepped inside. With Bucky by his side, facing his ghosts didn't feel as overwhelming as it did alone.