Work Text:
Steve was sketching a mock-up of Mr. Haggerty’s new drugstore sign when the screaming started. Even on the fifth floor with the windows all shut and one good ear, the roar of hoots and yells coming from the street was startling loud. It wasn’t just a few drunkards or a gang of silly kids either. This was a groundswell; the kind of noise that could only come from an angry mob or massive celebration. But it wasn’t a holiday and there were no games or boxing matches.
Steve stumbled from his seat to the window, his breathing already coming in too fast. He peered down through the dirty tenement window and gasped. There was a sea of people below, and they were moving just like a current through the streets, pouring in between buildings to fill all the empty spaces. The screaming and hollering spread as more people filed out of their apartments to join them. Steve watched in fascination as arms flailed and people embraced whoever was near, kissing and laughing like it really was a holiday.
He turned away and put on Bucky’s jacket before leaving to see what all the fuss was about. As soon as he stepped out of his apartment, Steve’s next door neighbor peeked out of her door with curious eyes.
“What’s going on down there?” she asked.
Steve shrugged. “Not sure, but as soon as I find out, I’ll be sure to let you know, Mrs. Witherspoon.”
“Thank you, Steve,” she said with an admiring smile before shutting her door.
The cool air sent a shiver through Steve when he stepped outside, but the enormous crowd with all their cheering and shouts stopped him dead in his tracks. There was so much pure joy and relief everywhere he looked. Complete strangers were jumping together and holding hands.
This time when Steve’s breath caught, he knew it wasn’t asthma. His eyes grew wet as he tried to force himself to breathe again.
He walked in a daze down the steps, daring to hope. It couldn’t be true.
A young woman with red hair was on the bottom step and hanging over the railing as she yodeled down. Suddenly she stopped and looked back at Steve, her green eyes bright.
“Did you hear?”
Steve just shook his head, scared to ask but desperately needing to hear the answer.
“We won! It’s over. The war is over. They’re coming home!”
Steve’s hand flew to his mouth, holding back a sob.
The young woman smiled. “You got somebody over there?”
Steve nodded. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”
*
There was a one in a million chance Bucky was on the boat that had just come in. But if the war was really over and Bucky was still alive, if he wasn’t on this boat, Steve knew he’d be on another one coming in soon.
The press of bodies stole his air a few times, pulling Steve to the edge of panic. If Bucky were here, he’d clear a path through, or at least nudge some extra breathing room. But Bucky wasn’t here, at least not in this crowd, and Steve had to forge on so he could see him.
It took almost half an hour to work his way through the crowd, and he had to stave off two asthma attacks before he broke through to a side alley. Finally free from being smothered to death, Steve fell back against a brick wall to just breathe. As he did, a wild hope took hold inside of him, fighting against old cynicism.
Steve had nearly been resigned to believe Bucky was dead. And really he had no proof he wasn’t, except for the fact there had been no letter of condolences delivered to Bucky’s family, who Steve visited regularly.
Pushing off of the wall, Steve made quick strides towards the docks, his heart pounding as doubt began to creep in. Would Bucky even want to see him? His letters had stopped coming almost three months ago. Right after…
I’m gonna close this letter with something that will probably piss you off, but I gotta say it anyway. I know you hate it when people beat around the bush, but I but I can’t say this in a letter. When you get back I have something important to tell you, something I should have said to you a long time ago. I think you know what I’m talking about. But if you don’t, well, you will soon. Don’t be a jerk and get yourself killed. That would ruin everything. Seriously though, Buck, take care of yourself out there, and write back when you can.
SGR
It was a stupid and impulsive thing to tack on to the end of a letter. Steve doggedly blamed writing that letter on being half out of his mind from almost dying. In the delirium of pneumonia, regret clung closer to Steve than the stench of approaching death. Winnie and Rebecca Barnes tried to argue quietly about whether to call Father Brown in to perform last rites. Steve had only caught snatches of it, but he heard enough to know he was about to leave the earth before ever confessing his feelings to Bucky, and that seemed wrong.
Days later, the wrongness of it was still with him. Steve resigned to right it, no matter what the consequences. And yes, he could have waited until Bucky returned, but some small part of him had hoped Bucky would reply back and give him a hint of how he felt too, even if it was veiled in coded language to protect both of them.
In the weeks and months since, Steve’s hope had bloomed and died, crumbling into fear. Granted, the mail was slow, and if the war was really over, perhaps Bucky was too occupied to write letters. But what if Bucky had received the letter and didn’t want anything more to do with Steve? What if Bucky had received the letter and didn’t know how to respond? What if he hadn’t gotten the letter because he was dead?
The endless possibilities kept Steve up at night.
“Steve!”
The familiar voice of Rebecca Barnes yanked Steve out of his worrying. He looked back to see the entire Barnes clan jogging down the street, joy radiating from their faces.
They quickly caught up to him, and Steve both loved and hated that they had found him before he made it to the docks. If Bucky really was on that boat, there would be no huge declarations of love, at least not for the next couple of hours. But maybe that was good. Then again, if Bucky didn’t want to see Steve, discovering that in front of his family could turn into something extremely awkward and humiliating.
Before he could start to fret about it, Mrs. Barnes was pulling him in close to her bosom.
“So glad you came. We rushed out as soon as we heard.”
“It’s true then?” Steve asked, hating the desperation in his voice but needing to know all the same. “Bucky’s home?”
Mrs. Barnes’ eyes went wide with surprise and then embarrassment. “Oh my God, you didn’t know, did you? We got a telegram about two hours ago. I’ve been cooking and everyone has been cleaning and running around getting things ready. We just—”
“Forgot,” Steve finished, giving her an understanding smile. “It’s alright, Mrs. Barnes. I’m here.”
“Yes you are,” she said, beaming. “And Bucky’s gonna be so happy to see you.”
Steve swallowed down rising doubt as he nodded.
People raced past them, jostling them as they made their way down the hilly pebbled street leading to the shipping yard. Steve could see the huge funnels rising from the top of the bridge of the ocean liner approaching the dock. It looked like it was a good mile off from docking. A grin spread over his face. This was real. Bucky was coming home.
From his vantage point, it looked like every inch of the ocean liner was occupied by soldiers. It had to be at least ten thousand of them. The crowd waiting on the docks nearly matched their number, and it was growing.
The closer they got, the more contact they made with other people, until they were being pushed and squeezed in. Mr. Barnes stepped in beside Steve and elbowed a few people to give him room. Mrs. Barnes protectively shielded him on the other side while tightly holding Rebecca’s hand.
“There’s no way we’re gonna be able to find him in this crowd,” Mr. Barnes said.
“We’ll find him; I know my boy. He’s gonna stand out like a diamond,” Mrs. Barnes said confidently.
“And if he doesn’t, we’ll just wait until the crowd thins out,” Steve said.
“That’s right!” Mrs. Barnes said, smiling down at Steve.
They looked on as soldiers walked, jumped, and ran off the ship to find their loved ones. Some soldiers filed out, marching towards the street that would lead them to a Western Union where they could send a telegram or make a phone call before their train ride home. Steve was grateful in that moment that he and Bucky’s family lived so close to the docks and wouldn’t have to wait days or even weeks to see him.
The crowd began to thin out as the ocean liner began to empty, and Mrs. Barnes’ hold on Steve’s shoulder became tighter and more desperate. He could feel her impatience and anxiousness in his bones, or perhaps it was his own. Bucky had to be on this boat, because if he wasn’t, that meant…
“Ma! Dad! Over here!” came the voice that occupied all of Steve’s dreams.
“Bucky!” Mrs. Barnes screamed, dropping her arm from around Steve. “Oh my God!”
Steve looked up at the ship and saw the familiar short-cropped dark hair and distinctive jawline. Bucky alternated between jumping and trying to barrel forward past a line of other soldiers to get to the docks. The Barnes family moved as a unit to meet him. Steve felt rooted to the ground as he watched.
Finally, Bucky broke free and then he was right there at the edge of the docks, wearing his uniform with a small duffel bag slung over his right shoulder. Steve’s eyes moved to Bucky’s shoulder, though, because right below it was only half of Bucky’s left arm, the end of which was heavily bandaged.
When Steve pulled his eyes away, Bucky was staring right at him, his expression inscrutable. There was an awkward pause as they all stared at each other and then Mrs. Barnes pushed forward.
“Oh, my baby!” Mrs. Barnes cried. “Come here!”
Steve watched as the entire Barnes clan pulled Bucky in, taking turns hugging and kissing him. Bucky’s mouth split into a huge grin, but as Steve watched he could see it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were slightly sunken, emphasized by the dark circles surrounding them.
When Bucky set his eyes on Steve again, there was an unsettled look of apprehension there that made Steve’s stomach drop. Smile or no smile, Bucky looked like he’d been to Hell and back.
Steve’s eyes widened and every muscle in his thin body seized up as Bucky took slow steps towards him. He stopped abruptly, his eyes running over Steve’s entire body. Steve’s face was on fire. He self-consciously brushed back the hair near his eyes.
They shared another few seconds of prolonged eye contact before Bucky’s lips curved up into his usual smirk.“No bruises or cuts? Don’t tell me you’ve tamed that temper.”
Steve chuckled. “Nope, just no one left to fight around here.”
Bucky shook his head and then opened his right arm. Steve rushed forward to fall against him, momentarily forgetting everything else.
“Missed you,” he whispered.
“Missed you too, pal,” Bucky said, burying his nose into Steve’s hair.
A reckless urge rose within Steve. In that moment he could see himself confessing everything and kissing Bucky full on.
But Bucky went rigid and pulled away. Steve opened his eyes and saw the entire Barnes family watching on with adoring eyes. They couldn’t see Bucky’s face, which had gone white, like he’d seen a ghost—or perhaps just realized his best friend was gone on him.
Steve gulped, guilt and shame swirling in his chest like a rising storm.
“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve whispered, his eyes darting from Bucky’s face to his family behind him. It was important they didn’t hear. “I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” Bucky said quickly, his eyes darting to the side, like he thought someone was right next to him.
Steve’s eyes tracked the movement, but there was no one beside him. Bucky’s family was still standing back respectfully, giving them a moment.
“Steve, it’s not you. It’s me. I got—” Bucky stopped suddenly as if he caught himself. “It’s not you.”
If this was a breakup speech, it was terrible. Steve had heard Bucky give better lines to dames he barely knew.
“Bucky, let me explain, okay? Come by tonight.”
“No,” Bucky said so definitively that it felt like a punch to the chest. His eyes had hardened and his lips were pressed together tightly.
Steve took a step back, still in shock at the absolute rejection of that one word.
“Not tonight, okay?” Bucky said in a firm soft voice, just above a whisper. “Don’t come by any night. I’ll come by soon to explain, but during the day. Swear to me you won’t come by.”
Steve wrinkled his brow in confusion, but Bucky’s family was closing in, and their time to talk was at an end. He nodded curtly and forced a small smile to keep up appearances. “Whatever you say, Buck. Whenever you want to drop by, I’ll be there.“
A flurry of emotions passed over Bucky’s face and then he turned to face his family again.
“I’m starving!”
“Good!” Mrs. Barnes exclaimed. “I’ve made all your favorites. Yours too, Steve!”
“Uh, I’m…I’m not hungry, Mrs. Barnes, and I promised I’d help Mr. Haggerty clean up.”
“Your best friend just returned from war; I’m sure Haggerty will understand,” Mr. Barnes said, raising his eyebrows.
Steve almost considered it, just to be petty and make Bucky just as uncomfortable as he felt right then. But when he looked back at Bucky, and saw the pleading look in his pale blue eyes, he couldn’t refuse him, no matter how much it hurt.
“Thanks, Mr. Barnes, Mrs. Barnes. I’d really love to, but I think I’m going to give you guys some time with Bucky. Me and him have plenty of time to catch up. Right, Buck?”
“Right. Thanks, Steve.”
*
Walking along the shipyard and around Murphy’s diner gave Steve an excuse to avoid the awkwardness of walking near the Barnes’ while Bucky kept him at arm’s length. Steve didn’t have enough money to actually go into the diner, but it gave him time to think.
He kept turning Bucky’s words over in his head. Maybe Bucky wanted to have a proper conversation about what Steve had written, away from curious ears. It wasn’t the sort of thing a fella discussed out in the open. A more cynical voice whispered that this was the beginning of the end: Bucky cutting him off entirely, telling him he’d come around during the day, and then never coming around at all.
Just the thought of it made Steve’s chest ache. By the time he made it home, the sun was low and casting a strange orange-purple hue across the sky. Steve stopped on the steps to his tenement to stare at it awhile. Before the war, he and Bucky had spent many days and nights up on the roof watching the sun set. Usually Bucky drank a beer and pretended he wasn’t posing, while Steve would draw him eclipsing the sun, because Bucky always did in Steve’s eyes.
Steve closed his eyes and shook his head, laughing at his brief bout of stupid optimism. He’d been gone on Bucky so long, he’d almost forgotten why he’d never told him. Bucky’s eyes and insistence that Steve stay away was the reality Steve had tried to avoid.
Sighing, Steve turned away from the sight of the setting sun and trudged up the remaining stairs to his apartment. When he made it to the top, he heard shuffling coming from behind his neighbor’s door. The door creaked open and one eye appeared.
Mrs. Witherspoon asked if Steve had heard that the war was over. Steve said yes. When she asked about Bucky, Steve just said he was with family, and then said a quick goodnight.
He stood slumped against the door for a long time, wondering what to do. Wondering what life would be like without Bucky in it. It was hard to imagine. Steve had tried many times, but even when he thought it might be possible Bucky was dead, it never seemed real. Steve held onto hope like his Ma used to hold onto her rosary beads. Not that it did her any good.
Steve rewarmed some chicken noodle soup Mrs. Witherspoon had made for him the day before and then trekked back into his bedroom to try and find sleep.
Sleep did not come easy. Steve tossed and turned as Bucky’s words replayed in his head. He wondered about Bucky’s arm, how it had been injured, and if Bucky was still in pain. When he finally found sleep, Bucky’s strained smile and haunted eyes followed Steve in his dreams.
*
The next morning Steve got up, washed up, ate a piece of stale bread and a bowl of oatmeal, and got back to work on Mr. Haggerty’s sign.
He was trying very hard to pretend to be lost in his work, and not think about Bucky, when the slow creak of heavy footsteps in the stairwell made him pause. Mrs. Witherspoon didn’t really go out, and everyone else on their floor was at work or in school.
Hope and fear collided and Steve went completely still. His heart thundered in his chest as he stared at the door.
There was one last creak and then slow cautious footsteps outside his door. Steve watched the shadows along the floor.
Several minutes passed as the person stood there outside the door, saying and doing nothing. Steve was barely breathing as he listened and waited.
Finally, a door opened. It sounded like Mrs. Witherspoon’s. There was muffled talking that Steve couldn’t make out because having only one good ear didn’t make for good eavesdropping, but he’d recognize the timbre of that voice anywhere.
“Bucky,” Steve gasped, standing up.
He started towards the door, careful and quiet, like he was sneaking up on someone. It felt silly, but obviously something had changed to make Bucky hesitant about seeing him. Steve didn’t want to spook him.
He crept to the door and pressed his right ear to it. There was no more talking, but Mrs. Witherspoon’s door clicked shut.
Steve waited a few more minutes for the knock, but there was nothing but more silence.
Bucky had never, ever, been the shy type or one for pulling his punches. He was brash, assertive, and all mouth, especially when it came to Steve. Whatever it was that Bucky wanted to say, it couldn’t be good, and if that was the case, Steve would rather he’d just get on with it and rip off the band-aid.
“Bucky?” Steve called out, staring at his door, frustration flaring. He huffed, “Bucky, is that you?”
No reply.
Done with playing the waiting game, Steve braced himself for the awkward strangeness of the inevitable confrontation, and opened the door.
“Why are you—”
There was no one there. All of the adrenaline coursing through Steve deflated as he looked down the stairwell for any sign of Bucky retreating. No one was there.
“Fuck,” he muttered, closing his door and returning to his bed to sulk beneath the cover of his sheets. Mr. Haggerty’s sign was done anyway.
*
He woke up around 2 pm, sluggish and hungry, but there was little in the kitchen. Even though he barely had two nickels to rub together, Steve knew Mrs. Holloway would trade a chicken and almond sandwich for a sketch of her daughter.
He grabbed his sketchpad and pencils, and left. As soon as he stepped out the door, Mrs. Witherspoon’s door opened and she poked her head out.
“Steve?”
“Hi, Mrs. Witherspoon, good afternoon,” Steve said with a strained smile, tamping down on the urge to ask about Bucky. There was no good way of asking if she’d seen him without sounding pathetic, and Bucky hadn’t knocked so it didn’t matter if Mrs. Witherspoon had seen him anyway.
“Where’s Bucky?”
Steve frowned. “I don’t know.”
Mrs. Witherspoon pursed her lips. “Well he was just here. Said he came to see you. I figured you two would still be catching up.”
Steve struggled to control his frustration. “He never... he didn’t knock or…”
“I see,” she said, her brow knitting. “You know, I thought that was strange. I heard him come up the stairs, and when I didn’t hear anything else, I came to the door to see who it was, and he was just standing there.”
The knot that had twisted Steve’s stomach a few hours ago was back in full force.
“Did he…did he say anything?”
Mrs. Witherspoon smiled then. “Well, he looked a little sick, so I invited him in. Gave him some hot tea and a slice of sweet bread. We had a nice chat.” She narrowed her eyes. “He said he was here to catch up with you. But I suppose he went home instead…”
Steve swallowed, and nodded. “I suppose. If he was sick maybe he needed to rest. I’m sure he’ll be by later.”
Mrs. Witherspoon frowned, looking skeptical. “I do hope he’s alright. No telling what kind of germs and such they had floating around over where he was. I heard some of the boys come back with the typhus.”
“I’m sure he’ll be alright. Your tea will cure anything,” Steve offered.
Mrs. Witherspoon smiled then. “Bucky said that same thing. You boys always did know how to sweet talk me.”
Steve ducked his head. “I’ll see you later, Mrs. Witherspoon.”
“Alright, Steve. Have a good day.”
The door shut and Steve stared at it for a long moment before finally taking the stairs down. His thoughts were scattered as he tried to process that Bucky had actually been there, that he had told Mrs. Witherspoon he’d come to catch up with Steve, but somehow hadn’t.
*
Even though Steve knew his neighborhood so well he could walk it blindfolded, he was lost. He circled the block where the Barnes’ lived three times unconsciously before he realized what he was doing, and made a decision.
Whatever it was Bucky was avoiding, Steve couldn’t, and if their friendship was over, Steve wanted to hear it from his mouth.
Sheer stubborn will got Steve to the top of the stairs. He knocked twice and held his breath.
The door opened and a familiar pair of blue eyes stared back at him.
“Steve!” Rebecca Barnes looked surprised. She also looked pale and there were dark circles beneath her eyes.
“Hi, ‘Becca. How’s it going?” Steve said. “Is…is Bucky here?”
Rebecca shook her head real slow and then her eyes darted around Steve. She looked back into the apartment before stepping outside and closing the door like she was about to divulge a secret.
Steve backed up, his eyebrows climbing.
“Bucky left last night. He, um…he said he couldn’t stay here. My parents are real torn up about it. Mom’s been crying all day.”
“Did he say why he left or where he was going?” Steve asked, trying to ignore the sick relief that perhaps Bucky’s behavior wasn’t just about him.
Rebecca shook her head. “Not really. He just said, he had to work some things out on his own and not to go looking for him. Said he’d come by during the day. But I dunno... It’s not like Bucky to just up and leave like this. Something ain’t right.”
Steve chewed on his lip. “I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“Thank you,” Rebecca said, pulling Steve into a fierce hug. “I know he’ll talk to you. Are you hungry?”
Hunger churned in Steve’s belly, but he didn’t dare admit it, not when the Barnes were dealing with this.
“Nah.”
“You’re a bad liar,” Rebecca said. “Hold on. I’ll be right back!”
Steve waited uncomfortably as she retreated back inside. She came back out with a greasy brown bag smelling of chicken pot pie.
It was warm in Steve’s hands and he took a big whiff, his stomach growling in response to the smell.
“There’s enough in there for Bucky, too. When you find him, feed him and tell him we love him.”
Rebecca’s voice quivered with tears at the end.
Steve nodded as stubborn will bloomed into fierce determination. “I will. I promise.”
*
Steve went back to his tenement building to put down his sketchpad and pencils and pick up a proper jacket. He grabbed some of Bucky’s clothing and stuffed it in a bag, and took the bag of food Rebecca gave him before leaving again.
He spent the next two hours combing all of Bucky’s old haunts: the dancehall, Sal’s bar, Mr. Sinclair’s corner deli—no one had seen Bucky. The only other place to look would be Bucky’s former place of employment.
The docks were full of guys, all of them bigger than Steve and some of them bigger than Bucky. None of them had ever really cared for Steve, but they didn’t bother him on account of him being friends with Bucky. So when Steve started asking around, he got a lot of shrugs and “Nah, ain’t seen him”.
His hope rapidly disintegrating, Steve trudged past the stragglers loading cartons on the last ship and down the gravelled road that said ‘Do Not Enter’. He expected someone to come running after him or shout down that he should scram, but nobody said nothing. He might as well have been invisible.
At the end of the gravelled road was a rusted-out warehouse. Bucky had told him the fellas sometimes used it to gamble and knock a few back when no one was watching. But looking at it now, it looked like an unsafe haven for any kind of activity. Still Steve walked on, until he was staring up at it in trepidation.
There was one broken window at the top and the doors were missing. Looking into the black void where the door should be made Steve’s skin crawl.
Bucky couldn’t be inside.
“Bucky?” Steve called. “You in there?”
The sound of shuffling made Steve’s heart leap into his throat. He took a tentative step closer. “Buck?”
“Don’t come in here!” Bucky shouted with a hoarse voice. “Get out of here!”
“What are you doing in there?” Steve said, emboldened. He moved forward, determined.
“Don’t come a step closer! I”ll come out!” Bucky said in a desperate voice that made Steve’s blood run cold.
He froze, tracking the dark for any movement. There was a crunching sound and more shuffling, and then Bucky came into view. He looked terrible. Pale, with visible bags beneath his eyes, and his usually perfectly coiffed hair was greasy looking, hanging over his forehead like a dirty mop.
Steve opened his mouth to ask Bucky what the hell was going on, when he saw a white silhouette of a body moving in the darkness behind him.
“Who's in there with you?” Steve asked, rushing forward. “Are you okay?”
“Steve, no, please. Stay out there. I’m coming out. I’m coming out…” Bucky had his hand out, pleading.
Steve peered into the darkness, but couldn’t see anything.
Then Bucky was standing right there, in front of him. He looked terrible and beautiful. “Steve…what are you doing here?”
“Looking for you!” Steve said, unable to hide his anger. “‘Becca said you left the house. Your mom...your whole family is worried sick about you. And Mrs. Witherspoon says you came by. I heard you, Bucky! Why didn’t you knock, huh?”
Bucky looked down at the gravel. His face was pinched and he kept shaking his head like he was having a private conversation with himself.
“I couldn’t... Steve, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Yes, I would,” Steve said, his voice pleading. “You know you can tell me anything. Now what’s this about?”
Bucky was looking off to the side, refusing to meet Steve’s eyes.
Steve huffed in frustration. “Talk to me!”
“It’s not safe here,” Bucky snapped, his ice blue eyes finally locking onto Steve’s. “I’m not safe, Steve. Just forget about me, okay? And don’t come back.”
“I love you!” Steve blurted out, betraying every promise he’d made to himself to retain his dignity. Bucky was standing right here, alive, and this was as much privacy as they were ever going to get.
“I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember,” Steve spit out before he lost his nerve. “That’s what my last letter was about. I needed to tell you.”
He was shaking like a leaf, his eyes searching Bucky’s face for shock and disgust.
But when Bucky’s eyes found Steve’s again, the only thing he saw there was familiar exasperation.
“I know,” Bucky said, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Geez, Stevie. You think I’m dumb or something?”
A gasp escaped Steve as he fell forward. Bucky caught him and wrapped his right arm around Steve’s back to hold him up. The bandaged stump of Bucky’s left arm brushed against Steve’s side.
“I love you too, punk,” Bucky whispered into his hair.
A bone-deep sigh shook Steve to his feet and Bucky buried his face against the top of Steve’s head. Steve inhaled; Bucky needed a wash, and his stomach was making funny sounds.
Pulling back, Steve reached around to open his knapsack. “I got some food for you, courtesy of ‘Becca. She said to tell you they love you. You gave them all a scare.”
Bucky dropped his arm to take the greasy brown bag, his eyes fond as he stared down at it. “Thank you.”
Steve shifted on his feet as all of his questions came rushing out. “What are you doing down here? Are you in trouble or something? Mrs. Witherspoon thinks you’re sick, and ‘Becca said you said you needed to sort something out. Why didn’t you knock when you came by?”
Bucky chuckled, it was a little high-pitched and hysterical. “Slow down, alright…” He took a deep breath. “I’m laying low here because it’s out of the way and I won’t bother nobody. It’s the safest place for me right now. For everyone. I am sick, Steve, but not the way you think. I brought back something and…I don’t think this is gonna get sorted out any time soon.”
“Ah geez, Bucky, we gotta get you to a doctor!”
“No!” Bucky clenched his eyes shut. “Steve. Please just go. It’ll get dark soon, and you can’t be here when it does. This…sickness I got. It gets bad in the dark.”
“Why? What is it? Is it typhus, cholera?”
“Goddammit, Steve!” Bucky turned his back. “It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing you can fix. Now go!”
“But Bucky—”
“I said go!” Bucky barked. “And don’t come back.”
“But you just…you just told me you loved me,” Steve said brokenly, willing back the tears welling in his eyes.
“Forget about what I said,” Bucky said harshly. “It don’t matter how we feel. I can’t give you what you need. Especially now. Besides, it’s illegal.”
“I know,” Steve said stubbornly. “But we can figure it out. We can—”
“No, we can’t, Steve. I’m putting my foot down. There is no more ‘we’, you hear me? There never has been and there never will be.”
The tears did come then. Steve pushed a hand over his face to clear them. It felt like Bucky had just punched him in the gut.
“So you’re saying we can’t even be friends now?”
Bucky turned around, his beautiful features twisted in...anger? Regret? It didn’t really matter. He was retreating, walking backwards, away from Steve and towards the darkness of the warehouse.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Goodbye, Steve.”
Steve stood listening for Bucky’s retreating footsteps. Instead he heard a shuffling followed by the faint murmur of someone’s whispers. With his bad hearing, Steve couldn’t make it out, but it didn’t sound like Bucky at all.
*
When Steve arrived back on his block, the street was crowded. It was even more condensed around Steve’s building and he had to fight his way to get inside.
There were two men dressed in black with gold stars on their shirts by the entrance.
A terrible queasiness rolled through Steve as he stepped up to his building. He said a silent prayer everyone in his building was alright. Especially Mrs. Witherspoon.
“You live here?” one of the policeman asked.
“Yeah. 212.”
“Name?”
“Steve Rogers…is everything alright?”
The policeman shook his head, his assessing gaze slowly changing to sympathetic. “You must be the next door neighbor.”
Steve’s heart sped up. “Is it Mrs. Witherspoon? Is she alright?”
The cop sighed. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, pal, but she had a heart attack. Folks downstairs said they heard a scream, and went to check it out. They found her dead in her apartment.”
Steve stared past the policeman to the grey staircase leading to their floor as the pieces fell into place. Bucky’s warning that he shouldn’t come around at night, the way Rebecca had said he’d left home right before nightfall, and now this. Mrs. Witherspoon had invited Bucky inside only a few hours before. Mrs. Witherspoon, who always kept her apartment very dark, ‘cause she said the light hurt her old eyes.
“You can go up now if you like,” the cop said. “But make sure you go straight to your place, don’t get in the way.”
Steve nodded quickly and took to the stairs. There was a group of policemen crowding Mrs. Witherspoon’s door. They watched Steve as he unlocked his door.
Once inside, he went straight to the cupboard where he kept a large utility flashlight. He checked the batteries and then looked around his apartment one last time to make sure he didn’t need anything else before he left the building again.
He had to get back to Bucky.
*
By the time Steve made down to the docks, the sun was peeking over the horizon, bleeding into the water. The sky was purple and fuschia, the kind of scene Steve would have loved to capture if he could afford watercolors.
The gravel pathway leading to the shabby warehouse looked a lot more ominous in the approaching darkness, and Steve gripped the strap of the bag slung over his back.
His crunch of footsteps was far too loud. There was no way Bucky couldn’t hear him coming.
“Are you kidding me?!” Bucky’s voice called out, his annoyance clear.
Steve stopped at the threshold of where the warehouse door should have been, trying to peer into the dark.
“Mrs. Witherspoon is dead, Buck. Whatever you got, it killed her.”
“Fuck,” Bucky hissed. “You see? You have to leave. If you don’t, the same thing will happen to you.” Bucky sounded frightened.
“I don’t know what’s going on, Buck, but whatever it is, if it’s not safe for me, it’s not safe for you either. We’ll fight it together.”
“You dumb punk! You’re gonna get yourself killed.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve always been hard-headed,” Steve said, trying to inject lightheartedness he didn’t feel into his voice. “Why would I start listening now?”
“That isn’t a joke, Steve.” Bucky sounded at his his wits end. “I mean it. Git!”
“I’m not a dog, Buck. You can’t just order me to leave. No matter what you say, I’m your best friend…” The way Steve’s voice turned high at the end made it sound like a question, and perhaps it was.
“No!” Bucky said barked. “We’re not friends any more. Now go!”
The thing was, Bucky was a bad liar too. Oh, sure, he could convince a dame he cared long enough to cop a feel, or con home-cooked meals off of any of the older ladies in the neighborhood. But when he lied, especially to Steve, he always overshot; Steve could hear the effort he was putting in to be convincing.
It was both a relief and terrifying. Bucky obviously cared enough to try and keep Steve away, but from what?
“What is it? What are you scared of?” Steve demanded.
Bucky didn’t reply for a long time. So Steve took a step forward.
Something, or someone, skittered in the darkness of the warehouse.
“Get back!” Bucky shouted. It didn’t sound like it was directed at Steve this time.
Steve gulped and took another step forward. “What are you talking to, Buck?”
“You mean who...” Bucky said suddenly, causing Steve to jolt to a halt. Staring into the black hole of the door, Steve thought he could make out the outline of Bucky’s form, and something else just behind him. It was another person, or at least it looked like it from Steve’s vantage point.
“It’s a person?” Steve asked in a mostly steady voice.
“He used to be... My unit got captured, Steve. That’s what happened to my arm. They…cut it off and did experiments on me and my men. I’m supposed to be dead. They found me though, before…well, before it went too far. Corporal Anderson wasn’t so lucky. They told me he died on the table a few days before they arrived, but I already knew that ‘cause I heard him take his last breath.”
It hurt to hear the pain in Bucky’s voice.
“Bucky…”
“I heard him die... but he never stopped talking. He still speaks to me. He’s talking to me right now. I made some promises. Told him I wouldn’t abandon him. And I guess he’s holding me to it.”
A different type of fear gripped Steve as he stared into the darkness.
“Stay back, Steve. Please. It’s dark in here. He likes the dark. When the sun comes up, he usually leaves me alone. I can…I can come by and see you tomorrow, during the day. It’ll be better then.”
“You said that before, but you just stood there. You didn’t even knock.” Steve hated the accusatory tone of his voice, but he couldn’t help it.
“I was scared. I didn’t want to bother you with it. But I promise...if you leave right now, I will come by tomorrow.”
Steve looked around at the growing darkness. It didn’t look like there would be a moon out tonight, and all of the street lamps were on the main road. Down here, at the bottom of the docks, there was no light.
He looked back at the black hole of the doorway and quickly made a decision. Reaching into his knapsack, he gripped the long handle of the utility flashlight and pulled it out.
When he turned it on, Bucky was standing in front of him, near the door, squinting.
“Jesus, Steve. That thing is bright.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m staying,” Steve said, squaring his shoulders and walking past the threshold. “And we’re gonna figure this thing out.”
Bucky looked equal parts frustrated and speechless. Finally he backed up and plopped down onto a wooden crate. There was another crate next to it, with the half-eaten contents of the brown bag Steve had brought by earlier. Just beyond that was a lumpy makeshift bed that looked to be made of old sheets and newspaper.
Steve placed the flashlight on the crate near Bucky’s seat so that it shone straight up, lighting up the entire room, and then took a seat opposite of him.
“This should last a few hours,” Steve said, when Bucky stared down at the flashlight skeptically.
“Night lasts more than a few hours,” Bucky said darkly. “This thing…he’s real clingy, doesn’t like sharing me with people.”
Steve set his jaw and sat up straighter. “I’m not scared.”
Bucky shook his head and sighed. Steve watched as he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a big puff.
“Dumbass.”
*
Bucky pulled out a deck of cards and over the next two hours, they played crazy eights and finished the last of Winifred’s chicken pot pie. Uneasy conversation and awkward pauses gave way to familiar banter and joking. The food was good and it settled nice in Steve’s stomach. Bucky seemed more content too, and his eyes shone a little brighter.
Crazy eights turned into poker. They gambled for nothing and then Bucky upped the stakes to clothing.
As Bucky discarded his pants, lingering stares became more frequent. Flirting came easy after that, and soon they were scooting back, towards Bucky’s makeshift bed.
Steve motioned towards the open door with his head. “Close it up.”
“No.” Bucky said, scowling.
Steve squeezed the semi-hard outline of his erection through his slacks. “Can’t make time with you out in the open. It’s illegal, remember?”
Bucky’s eyes flickered to Steve’s lips and then darted to the flashlight shining up at the ceiling. He struggled to stand, his balance off. Steve almost offered to help but Bucky looked focused and determined to do it, and something about it made Steve proud. He watched in anticipation as Bucky walked over to pull the doors of the warehouse closed.
When Bucky sat back down they stared at each other for a moment before finally leaning in. Bucky's lips were soft, full, wet, and much, much better than Steve's fantasies. Steve's eyes fluttered closed and he sighed against Bucky's mouth. He tried to memorize the feel of it, but he wasn’t sure he could, so he kept kissing until it was etched into his brain.
Skilled with his tongue, Bucky opened Steve’s mouth and swallowed his little moans. Steve didn’t even care how he sounded, he couldn’t get enough.
They made out for a long time before finally, Bucky’s right hand moved down towards Steve’s waist. He was trying to unbuckle Steve’s belt pants when the flashlight flickered. They both paused and stared at it, frozen in surprise, the haze of their lust rapidly evaporating.
“You gotta go,” Bucky said in a hoarse voice, laced with fear. “Now, before the battery goes out.”
“No,” Steve replied fiercely, balling up his fist in Bucky’s shirt. “Not without you. ‘Til the end of the line, remember? If that thing…”
“It’s a he...”
Jealousy flared bright inside of Steve as he stared up at Bucky. “If he insists on hanging around you, he’s gotta get used to me too. We’re a package deal, Buck.”
Bucky frowned, his fingers gripping Steve’s waist so hard it was certain to leave bruises.
“What if he don’t see it that way? What then?”
The flashlight flickered once more, and Steve thought he saw a shape in the dark. Then the light was back on, and the shape was gone.
It flickered again, and the shape in the dark was much closer and larger. It was definitely a man of some sort. Or the shell of one.
Steve took a deep breath as the flashlight flickered back on and then it went out completely. Whatever that thing was, it was standing right next to them now.
“He will,” Steve whispered.