Work Text:
2016
I don’t care what they think
I don’t care what they say
What do they know about this love,
Anyway
Come, come to my window
I’ll be home, I’ll be home, I’ll be home
I am coming home
Steve stepped forward silently, into the small, anonymous apartment. The only evidence of Bucky was the single pile of journals above the icebox. He holstered his shield and picked up one of the journals. He peered inside at the page marked by a brochure from the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian. Brightly colored flags littered other pages, each pointing to a memory, a question, a dream, a nightmare.
He could see Bucky was trying. The meticulous effort was evident on those pages and his heart skipped. Bucky knew him, but did he know him? Was it possible he remembered what they once meant to each other all those decades ago? Steve’s heartbeat was deafening in his own ears. So much so that he almost didn’t catch the faint sound of Bucky entering behind him.
He slowly turned and saw Bucky standing there, cautious and guarded. His eyes were wide, breathing unsteady due to the pounding of his heart. Steve, with his enhanced senses could hear it, the relentless thudding closely in time with his own.
“Do you know me?” he asked, carefully gauging Bucky’s response.
“You’re Steve, I read about you in a museum,” Bucky answers with deliberate vagueness.
The truth is, he thinks he knows Steve, he’s pretty damn sure but the details are muddled, like a dream. He remembers a small, sickly blond boy with bright blue eyes who fought just to breathe every winter. He remembers a loud mouthed little shit who always got beat up in back alleys. He remembers waking up to a giant version of that small boy rescuing him from HYDRA once, many decades ago, and that the outside was nothing like it should have been but those piercing blue eyes were still shining with the warmth of a thousand suns.
Also, and he’s not sure if this is real or not, but he thinks he remembers the taste of those soft, full lips. The feeling of skinny arms and sharp angles pressed against his body in a tiny apartment under the cover of darkness. The warmth of flawless skin and firm muscle holding him through nightmares in a canvas tent somewhere in Europe, and the unmistakable scent of Steve that never changed from the time they were small boys to the man in front of him now. But just how much of that is real and how much is a fantasy? That’s the part he has trouble with.
“You’re lying,” Steve accuses with a shaky tone. He breaks eye contact and removes his helmet. “Buck,” he begs, softer than before. “Please, Buck. Tell me you know me.” The vulnerability brings everything back into immediate clarity. It’s twelve years old and asks, ‘You think I’ll make it outta this one?’ It’s seventeen and it begs, ‘I don’t wanna be alone’ and neither does Bucky. He’s so fucking tired of being alone.
“Stevie...” he whispers. He takes a few tentative steps forward, closing the distance of the small room. His eyes never leave the blond’s except when he notices the slight trembling of Steve’s lower lip. Bucky hears the breath catch in Steve’s throat and they’re close enough to feel the heat coming off one another.
It’s when they’re this close Steve notices just how big Bucky really is. He’s always been taller than Steve, heavier, more muscular- but this is nothing compared to what Steve remembers. They stand eye to eye, but Steve still feels smaller, protected, cared for. It’s like the pressure of being the Captain has vanished and he can finally, finally be Steve again. Those grey eyes, though they now carry shadows of haunted memories- they still have the magical ability to swallow him whole and he goes into their abyss willingly.
Bucky surges forward the rest of the way until it’s impossible to tell where he ends and Steve begins. He’s missed his baby so much that the only way he could ever hope to communicate the gratitude of being found is through his lips. Words are nowhere near enough so he does what he’s always done when Steve’s beauty and blinding love has rendered him unable to speak. He kisses Steve breathless.
The feeling of their lips pressing together, it’s warm, and soft, and reverent. It’s new and familiar, overwhelming and nowhere near enough. Neither know who acts first, but their tongues are curling together, sliding into each other’s mouth and tasting what’s been missing from their lives for the past seventy years.
Steve reaches behind Bucky’s head and tangles his fingers in his long soft hair and Bucky moans into Steve’s mouth. Steve gives it right back when he feels Bucky’s strong hands grip his hips and pull him closer. They’re pressed against each other in the most intimate way two people possibly can be when fully dressed and it’s like coming home.
It doesn’t last long. The worst kind of interruption comes at the worst possible time. Sam tells Steve through the comms that the international troops are surrounding the building. They’re there to find Bucky, to take him from Steve, and this time they’re ordered to shoot on sight. Well, that’s something that Steve just won’t allow to happen. Not when he’s just gotten him back. Not when they finally have each other, and when in these times what they’re doing is finally, perfectly legal. After all the miles they’ve traveled, all the blood they’re shed and spilled, the order to kill Bucky is the order that will never be filled. Not while there’s breath in Steve’s lungs and blood in his veins.
So they part, reluctant and breathless. They come up with a strategy and vow to come out of it alive and together, that nothing and no one will ever tear them apart again. Steve would burn down the world for Bucky, and Bucky would take every single ounce of pain, horror and heartache to save Steve from experiencing loss one more time. They fight hand in hand, back to back, side by side and promise each other that when it’s all over they’ll try this again.
And when they do... When they are alone, back in Steve’s peaceful apartment, it’s slow and reverent, and worshipping and complete. They’ve finally come home.
Come to my window, oh-ho
Crawl inside, wait by the light of the moon
Come to my window, I’ll be home soon
I’ll be home, I’ll be home
I am coming home
Come to my window, oh-ho
Crawl inside, wait by the light of the moon
Come to my window, I’ll be home soon
I’ll be home, I’ll be home
I am coming home
I’ll be home, I’ll be home, I’ll be home soon