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Chapter Text

His head hurt like hell. At first, it felt like a bad hangover, disoriented, exhausted, dizzy and in pain. He didn’t know where he was or how he’d gotten here. Nothing in the foggy mess of his brain could tell him what had even happened.

The man sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes. The room was cold, dusty, empty.

There were no curtains covering the windows but no light came through them. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the outline of a small kitchen and what looked like a living room with a shabby couch and a small coffee table.

He was lying on the ground, nothing but a thin blanket below him. Why didn’t his bones ache? Just how drunk had he been?

Straining his brain to remember, he ran his hands over his body, checking for the source of his pain, aside from the pounding headache. Bruises and cuts answered his question.

His clothes were damp and he felt an outline of something flat and cold against his legs, his lower back, his chest… Blades?

A panic started rising in his chest, sending a shiver down his spine.

This felt like more than just a hangover.

The man jumped to his feet, gasping at the sudden agony shooting up his legs.

He stumbled to the windows. They were facing a brick wall, no chance at seeing where he was.

His reflection stared back at him. There was something wrong with it. He couldnt tell what it was.

Around him, the room started spinning. He curled his hands around the window sill. Slow breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth, a voice said inside his head. It felt like a memory, filled with anxiety and … something else.

He flinched.

The floor behind him creaked. He whipped around, his heart racing, knives flying to his hands instinctively, muscle memory forcing him into combat position, eyes scanning the environment. Something moved in the shadows. One knife flew in the direction, burying itself in the wooden door.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” A voice said softly. The shadows moved again.

He heard himself say something. It wasn’t English. He didn’t understand-

Something else moved behind the kitchen counter. His knife flew and shattered the cupboard glass.

More weapons landed in his hand, hidden all over his body. The panic started to clear his head.

6 knives left on his person. Backup firearms hidden in the wardrobe by the door. Emergency exit through the bathroom. Why did he know this?

The voice answered something, it sounded soft and sad but he didn’t understand, the language was-

He felt something pierce the skin on the back of his neck. His hand shot up, grabbing for the source of the pain but by the time his fingers had wrapped around the thin, delicate arrow he could feel his knees give in. The silhouette of an elegant woman peeled from the darkness, her face a mix of worry and relief.

Then it all went black.

***

“Don’t be so full of yourself, we got lucky.”

“Lucky? That arrow is the result of years of research-”

“Had he been fully functional you wouldn’t have lived to put it in him.”

The voices sounded muffled, as though from underwater.

His head hurt. Everything hurt.

“Three Two Five Five” His voice was scratchy. “Seven Zero Three Eight”

The bright light stung his eyes. Shapes were moving somewhere in the brightness.

“What’s he saying?”

“I think it’s his serial. From the war.” The voice sounded familiar. The woman from the flat. What the-?

“Your name.” She demanded.

It came to him with surprising ease.

“Barnes, James Buchanan.” He rasped. “Sergeant. 3-2-5-5-7-0-3-8.”

He blinked again, sitting up carefully. The woman was standing on the other side of a glass wall, a man next to her, his hand hovering over the holstered gun on his side.

“I am Agent Romanoff. This is my partner Agent Barton. Do you remember how you got here?” She said calmly, eyes searching his face curiously.

“You attacked me and brought me here.” He said carefully.

“Before that. What were you doing in that flat, Sergeant Barnes?”

The soldier thought for a moment. Something was nagging at the edges of his mind but he couldn’t grasp it. “I don’t know.” He said.

Why was everything so white?  It hurt his head.

Agent Barton pressed a finger to his ear and murmured something.

“Sam will be here soon, Steve’s still unconscious.” He said to the other Agent. She nodded.

Steve.

Did they have him too?

But. He was safe, he was home, in Brooklyn, all by himself but safe from the war.

His head started spinning again.

Agent Romanoff said something in that language that he now thought might be Russian.

He wanted to answer. But he didn’t speak Russian. Did he?

The redhead turned to whisper something to her colleague.

Barnes used the moment to look around his surroundings. He was in some sort of cell. The walls were padded, there was a bed, a bathroom and a shower behind some curtains, and of course the giant glass wall separating him from an empty room where the Agents stood, watching him closely.

Everything was white and clean.

It reminded him a bit of Stark’s lab. Had they been compromised?

He wasn’t tied down and he still wore his own armour, though they had taken his weapons.

Someone else entered the room on the other side. A dark-skinned man in strange clothes, his face twisted with worry. He nodded at the Agents and the two left through the heavy metal door.

“My name is Sam Wilson.” He said softly. “Who are you?”

“Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 3-2-5-5-7-0-3-8.” He repeated automatically.

Wilson nodded slowly. “Okay… Sergeant Barnes, then? You don’t know where you are? Or what happened?”

The Sergeant squinted at him. “No…” He said carefully. Was this a test?

“We don’t want to hurt you.” The man said. He sat down on the ground, crossing his legs. “Just have a few questions, is that okay?”

Barnes eyed the door. It looked heavy. Secure. He was trapped.

“Do I have a choice?” He scoffed.

“You do, but I’m afraid cooperation is the best chance you got.” His voice sounded genuine. “What is the last thing you remember, Sergeant?”

He closed his eyes. His head was still screaming. Pain. Terror. A foreign language and a red symbol..

“Hydra.” The soldier answered. It sent a shiver down his spine. Something moved in his memory, making him feel sick. “Too many, half our men dead, we surrendered and…”

He’d wanted to die, wanted it to stop, so much pain and terror and the smell of burned flesh.

Steve? But he was… He felt wrong. Everything was wrong.

“Howling Commandos?” He said to himself rather than Wilson. They’d been a team. They’d fought Hydra. Steve was all wrong, bigger and stronger and distanced. And Bucky was lost and scared.

There was a dame with bright red lips and she had taken his Steve away. He resented her, knowing it was selfish and cruel but unable to stop himself.

The wave of information washed over him, knocking the breath from his lungs.

“I died.” He said at last, gasping for breath. When had he fallen to his knees?

The other man was watching him, features calm and kind.

“Am I dead?” It felt like a stupid question.

“You aren’t.” Wilson said. “You’re alive and you’re safe. I’m sorry we have to keep you like this.”

He gestured around the room as though there was anything else to see but the cell.

“I didn’t want to make you feel like a prisoner, but the others thought it better to keep you from hurting yourself or others.”

Bucky frowned at him. Nothing the man said made sense. He felt exhausted.

Sam Wilson got to his feet again. “You’ve been through enough for now. Get some rest. We’ll bring you some food and water. I’ll be back tomorrow. If there’s anything you need, call ‘Jarvis’.”

“Jarvis?”

“It’ll make sense.”

***

Bucky woke, panting. The images from his nightmare still clinging to his brain. He looked around the room, panicked. The lights had dimmed, the room was empty. His clothes clung to him in cold sweat.

His fingers clawed at his chest, where his heart was beating painfully fast.

Only now he realized his left arm.

Hydra.

Something clawed at the back of his head.

The Asset.

The Helicarriers.

Steve.

Steve is still unconscious

“Jarvis?” he tried.

“How can I be of service, Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky jumped, instinctively crouching in combat position. The voice echoed from the ceiling. There was no one to see.

“Apologies, Sergeant. I know my presence can be a bit of a shock.”

“Where are you?” he tried to conceal the panic in his voice.

“My name is Jarvis. I am an Artificial Intelligence. To put it simply, ‘I am the building’.”

“The building?”

“I assume you are familiar with Stark Technologies?”

The Expo. Inventions. Flying cars. Girls.

Steve.

“Howard Stark made a talking building?” He whispered.

“I’m afraid Howard Stark is deceased.” The building answered. “His son Tony, however, follows in his footsteps.”

Another wave of shock rippled through him.

Stark was dead. How long had he been under their control? What else had happened?

Steve.

The Agent had said his name. So he was alive. Had he known those people?

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Sergeant Barnes?”

Steve.

“Where is Steve Rogers?” He asked the ceiling.

“Captain Rogers’ location is to be kept from public knowledge.”

“Public-? He’s my friend!” Bucky growled. Who were these people? “Tell me where he is! What did you do to him?”

The building remained quiet.

“Jarvis!” He yelled.

Nothing.

The metal door opened.

“It’s not a person, you can’t intimidate it.” Agent Romanoff said.

Bucky glared at her. “You’re watching me.”

The Agent flicked her eyes to the corner of the room. A small black shape looked down on him from the ceiling. Cameras.

“Steve is safe. We brought him to a hospital, he was unconscious for a while but he’s starting to wake up.” She approached the glass, calm and confident. “Steve is my friend, James. I won’t let anything bad happen to him.”

Friend?

“You locked me up.”

She stepped closer. “You know me.”

Hesitantly, Bucky stepped forward, studying her features.

Romanoff looked at him with curiosity. Something about her was familiar.

Images flashed through his brain, fighting and harsh words but they were well-meant, a young girl with a keen expression and deadly speed, pride as she buried her blade in a target’s chest, grief as they guided her into the bright white room, anger as she curled up against his chest afterward.

“Natalia.” He breathed softly. The memories felt distanced, like an old dream, but they were clear and filled with emotions.

“James.” The Black Widow said. “It’s been a few years.”

How long? The girl in his mind was young, too haunted, too cold, too ruthless for her child-like face.

She looked older now, still the same elegance and sharpness but somehow better. Less pained.

“I … trained you.” He said carefully. “You were my best. Student.”

“You protected me.” Nat said. “You took their hits for me. Made them pay when they hurt me.”

So the Winter Soldier did have a conscience. Or at least a part of him had been able to feel.

“What happened?” He asked. “Where did you go?” Even though the woman seemed like a stranger to him, he could tell there’d been a time where he cared for her a lot.

“Got sold. Worked for a few different people. Did many things I’m not proud of.”

Her voice was calm, almost soothing. “We met again, after the red room, do you remember?”

He strained his memory, but every image of the redhead was the same young girl in the same terrible place. He shook his head.

Natalia nodded grimly. “Of course.” She said softly. “Must’ve started wiping after those missions.”

Bucky wondered what it was about those memories that made Nat so sad.

“They sent someone to kill me.” She continued. “Shield, that is. Barton. He recruited me instead. We’ve been partners in not-so-illegal crime ever since.”

Her gaze softened talking about that man, the mask she wore shifting slightly.

“The people here are good, James. They’ll take care of you.”

***

The first days felt surreal. Like a bad dream. He was floating through an endless nothing, trying to hold on to something. Bucky kept hoping he’d wake up and be back in Brooklyn with the small apartment and the shitty job at the docks. But he didn’t.

He woke up from his nightmares to the white cell and the glass wall.

Natalia had told him they’d built it for a man called Banner and the creature who lived inside him.

The creature inside Bucky kept fighting. Feeding him with memories of death and pain. It longed for a command, for a mission, for the icy embrace of Cryo.

Romanoff asked him questions about Hydra missions and helped him keep the Asset quiet.

She had fought off her own programming, though it was less intense than the Winter Soldier program, her path had been similar. The memories that came from those sessions were painful and gruesome and Bucky often threw up until his stomach ached. But they helped. He needed to know, wanted to understand what had happened and who he was.

Sam Wilson walked him through practises to fight the rising panic in his chest, trained him to breathe through the anxiety and focus his mind on something.

Bucky recited song lyrics and prayers and did his breathing exercises.

Building Jarvis answered his questions about the past and the present.

There was a pool of knowledge Hydra had made sure was part of the Winter Soldier’s programming, enough to pass during undercover missions or find his way through society for an assassination.

But it still seemed much of humanity’s progress had been lost on him.

The AI answered his queries about Steve, the Avengers, the wars, the aliens.

Wilson said Steve had recovered quickly. He was intent on finding the Winter Soldier, desperate to go looking for him. They had decided it was safer to keep Bucky’s whereabouts secret, knowing that Steve would rush headfirst into the building and pretend like it was 1940 again.

And Bucky wasnt ready for that.

After two weeks, Natalia returned to him, followed by Barton and a third, a man with an eyepatch and at least five weapons hidden in plain sight on his uniform.

“Sergeant Barnes.” His voice was strong and full of purpose. Military. “My name is Nick Fury, formerly Director of the organization known as Shield.”

Jarvis had told him about Fury. Well, the few things that were available to public.

“Agent Romanoff seems to be under the impression that it is safe for you to leave the cell.”

Bucky stared back at him.

He felt no need to harm anyone, he still felt lost and sore and tired.

But there was no guarantee for them, he knew that now. The Asset was unpredictable. He didnt need weapons, even without his knives, hell even without his arm, he was still deadly.

But Natalia nodded at him.

“Sergeant.” Fury said again.

“I’m assuming you’re not letting me leave.” Not that he’d know where to go.

“We will bring you in an apartment, here in the Tower.” Nat said. “It will still have certain precautions, Jarvis will watch you and we will look after you every day. But it will be more comfortable than this.”

He shrugged. What did it matter to him where he was or what he was doing?

Everything seemed out of place.

He still wasnt sure this was even real.

“If you would please turn to face the wall and not move?” Fury said.

Bucky sighed. Now they were really overdoing it a little.

Still, he complied, resting his head against the padded wall, hands placed firmly against the fabric. He could hear the glass barrier slide away and sensed the movement behind him.

His body tensed with slight panic at the thought of turning his back to them.

He felt vulnerable.

“I’m sorry about this.” He heard Barton say and felt the sharp sting in his neck again.

Of course, he thought as his body slid to the ground, every necessary precaution .

***

He woke on a couch. This time, his head barely hurt, though he had an odd metallic taste in his mouth.

“We changed the formula a bit.” Natalia said. “Should be less of a hangover now.”

She was sitting on a kitchen counter, scrolling through a phone.

The apartment was small was elegant.

Soft carpet, paintings on the walls, curtains drawn over large windows, though he was sure they weren’t the kind you could easily open.

In fact, much of the interior seemed to be bolted in place, made from soft woods and plastic, no hard metals or other potentially dangerous materials. It was like a child-proofed room. Very strong, very dangerous children.

The living room transitioned smoothly into the kitchen and two other doors stood open to reveal a bed in one and a bathroom in the other. Jarvis’ cameras were barely noticeable, integrated in the elegant and expensive decor. He glared at them. A prettier prison.

“They wont let you have real knives yet, but there’s plastic cutlery and some groceries in the kitchen. You can ask Jarvis to order you things you need, though all of it will be checked by security.”

Bucky could easily kill someone with a plastic fork. And he was sure Nat knew that.

“No leaving the rooms. No outside contact. There’s books, DVDs, music, newspapers and some files I smuggled in for you to catch up to everything.”

She dropped to her feet and handed him the phone. He’d used one before, or at least the Asset had, but it still felt alien in his palm.

“Stark limited your access but you have some emergency numbers in there. If there’s anything you need, you can always call or text. “

He nodded.

Surely the nicest prison he’d ever been in but a prison nonetheless.

Chapter Text

Bucky liked routine. It gave him purpose. Something to focus on, to keep his brain from lapsing into an endless spiral of fears and regrets.

He woke every morning to Jarvis’ voice echoing through his bedroom.

A quick breakfast in the kitchen, though it had taken a few days for him to be able to stomach solid food.

There wasnt much room for exercise in the small apartment but after some discussion, they had granted him a treadmill and some weights, so he would do what he could for his work out.

Afterwards, he’d take a steaming shower. The first time the warm water had touched his skin, he’d broken down in uncontrollable sobs. It still made him feel tender around the edges, frail and vulnerable. Warmth. He really couldnt remember when he’d last felt warm water. Before.

Before lunch, one of the Agents would come checking on him, to make sure he hadn’t murdered anyone and didnt intend to do so anytime soon.

Maria Hill was his favourite. She knew not to come too close, allowed him to back away from her and most importantly, she didn’t talk much.

Mondays he spent reading up on newspapers and history books.

Apparently, power-crazy gods letting aliens lose on Manhattan was a thing that happened and people just moved on like it was nothing.

The world was constantly ending and people with special powers popped up just in time to save it.

Humanity as a whole, he found, had gotten better at being human, for the most part. The Asset had been vaguely aware of history, had been educated enough to follow his missions, but Hydra hadn’t cared to get into too much detail. He read stories of people fighting for their rights, organizations fighting hunger and poverty and disease.

Tuesdays Sam Wilson came over, giving him updates on Steve.

He was a nice man, calm and patient. Sam never came too close, got too loud, moved too quickly.

He practised breathing exercises, promised to keep an eye on Steve, keep him out of trouble.

Bucky felt a stab of jealousy, but he was more grateful that someone was keeping an eye on the punk.

Their conversations never went much deeper than that, which was okay since he didnt feel like he had much to say.

Wednesdays Bucky read books and tried to get his brain to get into the story and away from the world.

His new handlers- no not handlers, he reminded himself constantly, hosts, guests, people who protected him from himself, had given him a selection of books that people in the future found necessary to read. Most of them involved magic and teenagers saving the world, usually accompanied by a terribly forced romance. But it was a simpler world, set rules, simple solutions to each conflict. It was soothing.

Thursdays Natalia came over to check on the murderous creature inside his brain.

She walked him through practises that she herself did each day. Some of them involved meditation, some stressful situations like piercing noises or flashing lights.

Sometimes they fought, grappling on the soft carpet. At first, the Asset broke through, eager to maim and kill, and could only be pushed back by another injection albeit a less intense one, that calmed him rather than knock him out completely. After a few tries, however, Bucky succeeded in keeping his mind clear, letting the Asset control his movements but not his thinking.

Fridays he cleaned.

The building voice and the employees checking on him had assured him that there were multiple staff members and various robots that would take care of that, but Bucky insisted on caring for his own living space. He didnt do much, so there was barely anything to clean, really.

Weekends he tried movies and tv shows.

The TVs of the future were shockingly big and flat and bright. He tried hard to pick films that looked peaceful, avoiding anything that seemed to have flashing lights, loud noises or images of war in it, which limited the selection a lot.

Storytelling of film and television in the future was strange. The plot moved very fast, if there was plot at all, rushing from one drama into the next. Acting was better. Effects were insane. Most of the time though, it felt less real, less genuine.

In between his routine, the only thing he actually enjoyed was, to his embarrassment and surprise, food.

From the Great Depression to war to brainwashing, he had never really had much chance to know food. It was something necessary for survival but hard to find. It was begging and stealing and lying.

Now suddenly, there was this unlimited world of colours and smells and tastes ahead of him.

Books told him what to do, clear instructions that gave him purpose, a mission to accomplish.

Jarvis supplied whatever Bucky needed, as long as it could not  be used as a potential weapon.

So he cooked and baked and experimented, usually in amounts he could never hope to eat.

Inevitably, he began to bribe whoever came into his apartment prison with cupcakes, cookies, stews and meatloafs.

Bucky had made peace with his new routine, this strange way of life that was nor dream neither reality.

Consequently, it annoyed the hell out of him when his routine was broken.

***

The woman came on a wednesday afternoon, tearing him from a newspaper article about the Berlin Wall.

She was elegant, had an air of authority and moved with confidence and purpose. Her red hair was pulled in a tight ponytail and she wore a suit, the type Bucky thought only men would wear.

“Ma’am.” He felt the need to stand up straight and just barely resisted saluting her.

She introduced herself as Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, which meant she watched over and managed the building, the company and Tony Stark himself. He liked her.

“Tony would like to meet you.” Pepper told him, sitting down at the kitchen table. Bucky handed her a plate of cookies. “He has taken a look at your files and he would like to see what progress you have made.”

Progress. huh.

“We would also offer to take a look at that arm. Jarvis informed us it would likely need maintenance.”

The building was right. Hydra’s tech was faulty and messy. Without constant correction and care, the metal joints got less flexible, the artificial nerves stopped functioning, thus limiting his motor skills.

He nodded.

To his surprise, no one drugged him. Pepper simply handed him a small plastic card to hand around his neck, assigning him the required permissions to leave his apartment room. Leaving through the front door for the first time he saw the heavy security surrounding him. Camera’s watched the hallway, motion sensors lined every corner and he was pretty sure the silver sprinklers did more than put out a fire.

“This area as well as the padded cell you were in before were designed to house Banner during his more … complicated phases.” Pepper explained calmly.

The name sounded familiar. “The scientist?” He remembered something avenging related about a man who tried to recreate the Super Soldier Serum and bit off more than he could chew.

She nodded. “He used to have phases of extreme anxiety. Tony wanted a space where the Hulk wouldnt be able to do too much harm, somewhere Bruce would feel at home, more or less. The padded cell was meant as last resort if we couldnt calm the Other Guy.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. He never gave Bruce Banner much thought before. Hydra had been interested in him, of course, if there was a way to control the Hulk it would be a powerful weapon. It hadnt occurred to him the other man was just a normal guy who shared a body with a monster. He wondered if there was a way to meet him.

Three elevators and multiple security checks later, they arrived in what could’ve been a Stark Expo by itself. Robotic arms worked on what looked like an aircraft, smaller robots buzzed back and forth through the room, holograms hovered in the air and music was playing at full sound.

All the movement and sound would’ve send Bucky into a panic if it hadn’t looked so familiar.

Sure, the technology was visibly more advanced than anything in the 40s but the smell of oil, the sound of metal and music, he almost expected Howard to walk out from between the constructions.

Howard.

A painful shock hit him and he stopped in his tracks.

Images flashed through his mind, snow, cold, a woman screaming, a face so familiar but unidentifiable, he-

“I know, it’s a magnificient sight, but I didnt expect him to cry about it.”

Howard’s son looked almost like a ghost, covered in grime and oil, walking with confidence towards the newcomers. Stark Jr. The boy he had orphaned.

Bucky took a shaky breath and forced himself to smile apologetically.

“I used to love the science fairs. A little disappointed we dont have flying cars yet.” He forced himself to say, the words almost choking him.

A small robot wheeled in, handing Stark a towel. He padded it’s head and wiped the sweat and grime off his forehead, his eyes fixed on the metal arm.

“Pepper, love, can you give us a minute?”

The CEO cast a worried look between the two men before retreating, her heels echoing before the doors slid in place behind her.

Tony leaned against his workbench, watching him with a mixture of curiousity and … something else. Anger? Sorrow?

“It, uhm, it’s an honour meeting you, Mr Stark.” Gee. What a creative thing to say. Bucky cringed at himself.

The other man just nodded absentmindedly, his brows knitted together in thought.

“The arm. I need to take a look at it.” He said. “From what I can see, the plates are not moving the way they should.” He squinted and cocked his head to the side. “And to be completely honest, I am very curious to see this tech up close.”

Bucky glanced at his left hand, the fingers already looking slightly out of place, pressure sensitivity malfunctioning. It was obvious they needed maintenance but -

Why? None of this made any sense. He was an assassin, a monster, a killer. And yet here these people were, keeping him in pretty prisons, watching him and feeding him and patching him up like he was some sort of pet.

“Sit down.” Stark nodded towards a large black chair that reminded him of dentist appointments and -

Stabbing pain pierced Bucky’s head for a second and he jumped back unintentionally, his heart racing.

Something screamed in the back of his brain, kicking and thrashing.

The edges of his vision began to blur.

No no no no

His lungs were burning.

“Shit, shit, of course, sorry.” With an animated movement of his arm, Tony sent one of the larger robotic arms to kick the chair out of their view. “Sit, stand, whatever. Didn’t think that through.”

Breathing.

He remembered the exercises Sam had shown him.

Just deep breaths.

Slowly, the room came back into focus.

“I’m sorry…” Bucky said hoarsely. That was unexpected. Off to a great start.  “Not so good with Doctors and shit…”

The man nodded. “I get that, my bad. Just- can you stand still? For a moment? I just need to scan that thing for a moment, okay?”

It was not okay, not really but he didnt feel like he was in much of a position to decline and Stark seemed very eager to have a look at his weaponized limb.

He tried hard not to tense up too much as Tony approached, directing a small rectangle in his palm at the shining metal. A net of blue light wrapped itself around his shoulder and slowly wandered down to his fingertips. Simultaneously, a 3D structure appeared, floating in the air beside them.

Stark eyed the 3D model, zooming in and out. Shaking his head.

“I know who you are.” He said suddenly, his back turned to Bucky, his hands busies with taking apart the individual plates on the hologram arm. “What you did.”

He felt his heart jump, his chest tighten.

“Romanoff did a great job with those files. Helped us track down a few hide-outs. Dug up some files.”

His hand dropped to his side and he stood still.

“I wanted to kill you. Break down the glass to that damn cell and choke the life out of you with my bare hands. But... “ Tony ran his hands through his hair. Bucky felt cold and hot at the same time.

“Took me a while to come down. But what they did. That could’ve been anyone. Whatever thing murdered my parents wasn't the same as whoever dragged Cap out that pond and went to curl up in some dusty ass safehouse.”

He turned around, meeting Bucky’s gaze, the pain and anger and sadness clear on his expression now.

“You bake fucking cookies and read Harry Potter novels, for god’s sake. I can’t forgive you. I cant forget that it was your face on that tape. But I’m giving you the benefit of doubt here. But don’t get me wrong, if you hurt anyone, for any reason I will put you down.”

Grief lay heavy in Bucky’s stomach. He felt himself trembling.

“Please” he said quietly, “if that happens, if I do lose control, put me down and make sure it’s permanent this time.”

Tony arched his brow in surprise.

“Howard was my friend.” He whispered. “I truly am sorry. I know that doesn't change anything, just… I am.”

Stark huffed and shook  his head. “Now that we got that out of the way…” He turned his attention back to the hologram. “Sloppy job. Really. I am disappointed, I had really expected more!” He clapped his hands. “The good new is, I can totally get your murder arm working again. The bad news is, it won't last. This thing is … it’s like a science project some kid made for a fair and got a C on, I mean, the wiring is tangled, the material is way too heavy, the friction from the movement is wearing down the joints … I’ll need someone with more expertise in that particular field to look at the wiring for the nerves, but I’m pretty sure there will be room for improvement as well!”

Bucky stared at him, confused at the sudden change of energy between them. All he could do was shrug. The Stark kid seemed too occupied with his hologram to care much. He was announcing the many changes he could make to the design and threw clever words around that had to meaning to Bucky. It reminded him even more painfully of Howard presenting his inventions for the Howling Commandos.  

Pepper saved him from further awkwardly standing around. She guided him out of the busy workplace and back into the empty, quiet hallway. It relaxed Bucky’s mind a bit, the silence and stillness settling his nerves enough to clear the fog from his brain.

The woman gave him a few minutes to recover before speaking.

“We would like to offer you more freedom within the tower.” She said softly. “There’s a common area, a gym, a bar and a swimming pool that you are welcome to use. Jarvis will let you know where to find them. Any floors with resident apartments are off-limits unless you are invited. Our security software will let you know if your presence is wanted or not.”

Bucky bit his lip nervously. Common areas. People. As boring as the prison apartment had been, at least he had been more or less alone, safely hidden away from the world. Why did people suddenly care for him? Where did all this come from?

People… but that meant-

“Steve?” He asked in surprise. Natalia had told him they’d kept the Winter Soldier’s presence at the Tower a secret, even from Steve. Especially from Steve. The official reason had been the threat that the Asset had posed, not knowing whether it would break through or not, whether it could be controlled. Mainly though, Bucky knew Nat was very aware that he needed time. Time to realize what happened. To get accustomed to thinking for himself, finding his way through this strange new century.

But now…

“Captain Rogers would inevitably become aware of your presence at the tower, yes. Though, if you dont mind me intruding into your personal life, he has been desperate to get out and chase after you. I dont know how much longer we can convince him to lay low. Maybe it would be best to tell him you’re here.” Pepper’s voice was soft and kind.

She had a point, knowing Steve it was miracle he wasn't already tearing the world apart for his stupid mission. These new people must really have a special skillset to keep him quiet this long.

Bucky knew he missed Steve. He’d been on his mind every day since he’d become aware of his surroundings. But it scared the hell out of him. His last real memory of him was the pain and terror in his face when he fell. It tore through him like a million bullets.

What if he’d changed? What if he’d see the monster Bucky had become? He had all these new people in this life, how did a ghost from the past even fit into all this?

“Where is he right now.” He said instead.

“Captain Rogers is currently in the common area, drinking coffee with Agent Romanoff.” The building replied.

Panic threatened to rise in his chest again. He forced it down.

“Can we go there?” He asked Pepper. The CEO nodded.

“I shall give Agent Romanoff the warning to prepare Captain Rogers for your arrival.” Jarvis announced.

She led him through even more gates and elevators. He’d need to ask for a map if he ever wanted to find his way around the building by himself and even then, it was likely still a maze of hidden passages and top security. That, he thought, was probably the point. Any unwanted guests would easily get lost in the corridors and mislead long enough for people to stop them.

Bucky’s heart kept racing insanely fast, his hands opening and closing to fist at his side, over and over again, grabbing at the air. If Pepper noticed - she probably did - she didnt say anything.

The common area looked like a big, extravagant living room, if living rooms had coffee bars and three giant flatscreen TVs. Nat spotted them first, gracefully rising from her seat for a silent retreat. She gave him a playful smile on the way out.

And then there they were.

Alone in that gigantic room, surrounded by all these expensive things.

Staring at each other.

Steve.

He looked the same. And different.

The same giant muscular frame, that stupid broken nose, the neatly combed blond hair.

But his eyes were wrong. Haunted. Lost.

“Bucky.” Steve breathed, taking a careful step forward.

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was hell?” Bucky tried clumsily.

“What- You- How-I didn’t know you were here.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“But you did? You knew I was here?”

“Sam gave me regular updates so I knew you punk weren’t getting into trouble.”

Steve stared in confusion. The conflict was clear on his face, unsure if he should be mad or relieved.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky said quietly. “I just … needed time.”

“What happened on that helicarrier…”

Bucky’s stomach lurched. His memory of the fight was blurred, filled with the static noise and the pain that was the Asset’s mind. The only moment of clarity had been Steve falling, debris crashing around them and his body moving instinctively, the century old urge to protect him no matter what.

Everything else was just … gone. He woke up in the safehouse, where Natalia had found him.

“I don’t know what happened.” He confessed. “One moment there was pain and noise and then suddenly there was just… you. Next thing I know is Natalia finding me.”

Steve looked tense. His face was still fighting emotions. A part of Bucky was screaming to run towards him, wrap his arms around that abnormally large body and hold him tightly. The other part flinched away from the thought of touch, was terrified by all the emotion, new and old, that came crashing down on him.

“Nat told me not to get too close to you.” Steve said quietly. “Didn't want me to startle you.” His hand twitched as though he wanted to reach out. His features settled on sad puppy eyes. Goddammit.

Bucky took a deep breath and took a few slow steps forward, until they stood an arm length apart.

This was stupid. It was Steve. His Steve . Why was he so terrified?

He raised his right arm and carefully took Steve’s hand. His skin felt on fire at the touch but he held on to it. He took a step closer. Steve took the metal hand. Memories rose, holding the small boy in his arms, the skinny fingers interlaced with his, feeling the warmth on his skin during cold winter nights.

Tentatively, Bucky lowered his head, resting it against Steve’s chest.

The other man’s proximity made his skin crawl and his chest feel tight, but he didn't flinch away. He felt Steve’s chest rise and fall softly, could feel the steady vibration of his heart beat. It was racing as fast as Bucky’s was.

70 years.

Steve let go of the metal hand, placing his palm carefully on the back of Bucky’s head, his fingertips tangling in the long hair. It was almost unbearable.

Part of him screaming, terrified of the intimacy, the potential threat of such closeness, aware of how vulnerable he was. But he was also painfully aware of how gentle the touch was. How safe and right and good it felt. He couldn't recall the last time he’d felt touch that did not cause pain.

Tears stung his eyes and his throat tightened painfully with the effort to keep his sobs down.

They stood in their careful embrace for a few minutes, trying to make sense of the situation.

Bucky was the first to pull away as the screaming inside his head became too loud to ignore. He took a few steps back, taking a deep breath as the noise calmed down.

“Heard Stark has some good coffee up here?”

The coffee was fantastic. Not that he’d had much to compare it too, given that the Asset had had  no concept of enjoying food and his own apartment in the tower didn’t have a coffee machine (he suspected caffeine was the last thing Banner needed).

He told Steve about the rooms he’d been given, leaving out the part where he’d been locked behind glass. Somewhat proudly, he confessed his newfound love for food and bribing people into letting him have new things with cookies and cupcakes.

“I would really love to see that!” Steve laughed. “This century is… something else.”

Bucky cocked his head. “One thing has been bothering me though: What the fuck happened to bananas?”

“The Great Banana Plague.” Steve answered darkly.

“...Banana...Plague?”

“I know. I’m mad too.”

The future was fucking weird.

***

It was strange. Once the initial shock was over, Bucky and Steve fell back into their old rhythm. It was different but the same. So much had changed, they had changed, but it was as if something inside them was there, unchanged, bringing them together again.

It had been a struggle to get Steve to let him go, exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day, but in the end he had agreed that they both needed rest and there was no threat of them losing each other in the most secure building of the country. The night after they’d reunited, Bucky’s dreams almost weren’t that bad.

That was, until the ceiling woke him with a careful “Sergeant Barnes?”.

He growled and freed himself of the tangled mess of blanket.

“Uh yeah?”

“Captain Rogers would like to ask you to join him for breakfast in the common area.”

Goddammit, Steve. It’s not like he was going anywhere.

“Yeah, sure I’ll be there.” He mumbled, reluctantly crawling from under his warm sheets.

There wasn’t much to choose from in his wardrobe and the longer hair was much easier to maintain than the short, elegant military haircut of the past, so it took Bucky only a few minutes to make his way back to the common room.

Steve was there, and so was Sam Wilson, giving him a lazy salute over his coffee.

“I take it you two have met?” Steve said with an edge.

Bucky couldnt help but be relieved to see the large pile of food stacked on his plate. Even though his conscious knew there was no reason to worry about his nourishment anymore.

“Doing good Barnes?”

“Getting better.” Bucky answered honestly. “The breathing exercise helps.”

“I’m glad.”

Stark’s team, whoever these ninja’s of nourishment were, had outdone themselves with the breakfast buffet. His own kitchen had been properly stocked and he’d experimented with all sorts of food over the past weeks, but he couldn’t recall ever seeing so much food all at once. And something told him this was small in comparison to what could be.

“Are they planning on feeding the whole town” He murmured.

Steve chuckled. “Thought the same thing when I moved in. They just assume a house full of super soldiers and genetically enhanced mutants will eat a bit more than the average person. Tony’s got his own soup kitchen for the homeless that the leftovers go to.”

Bucky filled his plate with some scrambled eggs and sat down at the table, feeling oddly nervous. He’d seen Sam as more of a guard, someone who made sure he didn’t go on a murder spree. Now they were sharing food like close friends. He didn’t really know how to make friends, or how to act around people at general.

“So…” He attempted awkwardly. “How did you guys end up being friends?”

Sam grinned. “Oh y’know I went for my regular running routine and next thing I know, Captain America is flexing about how fast he can  run. Lapsed me like, what, seven times? Which is kind weird, considering I don't run a circle.” He shrugged. “Few days later he was at my doorstep asking me to shelter him from Hydra Assassins and I had nothing better to do that day. Well, there was this Bingo night…”

Bucky chuckled at Steve’s half shocked, half embarrassed expression. “hmhm that sounds like Steve.”

He took a sip of his coffee. Gotta love the rich people coffee.

It felt surprisingly easy to talk to Sam. Like, really talk in actual conversation, not just on a reporting on his mental state kind of basis.

Back when they were kids, Bucky used to have a lot of friends at school, he got along well with his colleagues at the docks, he was popular in the gym and at the bars. The men of the 107th had grown to like him quickly, been willing to follow him with friendship and loyalty. He’d always felt welcome and at ease with the Howlies, despite the panic and nightmares that had haunted him even then.

But someone he felt this new version of him, this damaged shell of what he had been, had lost his charme. People made him nervous, conversation felt awkward. The thought of … friends was a strange one.

But if there were people like Sam Wilson, he thought, then he’d be willing to try.

He listened to Sam’s side of the whole Shield-Hydra story, interested to hear how Steve had managed to convince a veteran he met on a run to come take down an entire corrupt agency with him. Natalia he understood, she was trained to get into people’s heads, make them do her bidding even if it killed them. But Steve? He had about as much elegance as a celery.

Bucky appreciated how smoothly the Falcon left out the parts of the story where the Asset tried to murder the golden trio, making it very clear that Hydra and Pierce where the villains of his story.

Steve just nodded along, making a small comment here and there, his eyes resting on his plate like he was trying to stare the nutritions out of the pancakes.

“So,” Sam asked after a moment of awkward silence that followed his retelling, “how did you two meet?” His eyes darted back and forth between them. “Though Steve never shuts the hell up about you, I don't think he ever mentioned that story.”

Steve blushed and cast Bucky a desperate look. Of course he wouldn't have told him.

“Oh, you know, we were kids.” Bucky shrugged. “And Steve was being Steve.”

Surprisingly, the memory came easy to him, despite the fogginess in his brain. The most essential memories, it seemed, the ones that had had the biggest impact on him, had taken the least damage from whatever Hydra had pumped into him.

His mum’s face, the first Hanukkah after the girls were born, his first kiss and of course, the glorious image of tiny, scrawny Steve dangling from a flag post. Now that’s a picture for the museums. Too bad smartphones weren’t a thing then.

“Some jerks were saying bad things about a veteran down the street. They were making fun of him, wanted to break into his house. I couldn’t just let that pass!” Steve argued.

“Uh no but you could’ve told a teacher?” Bucky said just like he had back then. “I was on my way home when I found him, beaten up, his underwear tied to a flag post.” He shook his head, smiling fondly. “Took him home with me, cleaned him up, gave him my boxers since his had ripped… He was stupid and reckless. But also brave and just … good. Something about him just drew me in. I wiped the blood of his forehead and knew I’d take care of the little punk til the end.”

His eyes met Steve’s and he felt an odd shiver run down his spine, something tingling under skin that he couldn't quite describe.

oh

crap no

brain why?

Steve stared at him with big blue puppy eyes. Sam smiled warmly.

Bucky waited for the ground to split open and swallow him whole. He really hadn’t meant for his voice to get so soft, his smile to look so dopey. Jesus. He really had to learn how to be around people.

“And look at you, still saving my ass after all these decades.” Steve grinned. Thank god the guy was a big old sap himself. His eyes were radiating warmth and kindness. It was almost sickening.

“I saved you … from myself… after trying to kill you.” Bucky declared awkwardly.

“It’s the thought that counts!”

Sam shifted in his seat. “Fellas” he announced, “I think y’all have the weirdest friendship I ever seen, but I support you.” He got to his feet, gulping the last of his coffee. “Was nice properly meeting you, Barnes! I’ll have to get going now.”

“Well, that could’ve gone much worse.” Steve said into his breakfast plate. “You really remember that much from we were kids?”

Bucky shrugged. “The important things, I guess. Still know your medical history by heart. Allergies, blood type, chronic illnesses... “ Suddenly, it felt odd sitting next to him at the table. He was strangely aware of how close Steve’s hand was to his and how soft the fabric of his shirt was and how tightly it hugged the curve of his chest and-

Bad timing for late-teen-years-memories to resurface. He tried shoving them into a box in his brain.

His movement was a bit too quick to quick to be inconspicuous and Steve gave him a worried look.

“That was great but I should really go now.” Bucky said apologetically. “Promised Pepper I’d have some pumpkin muffins ready for her next time she comes around.”

He was actually looking forward to that, he remembered getting very excited about pumpkin season and getting the slightly wrinkly jack-o’-lanterns from the neighbours after they were done being decoration. They’d repurpose them for cookies or cake or soup and Sarah told them spooky stories while they ate.

“Need any help with that? Or, I mean, like, company?” Steve looked like a dog watching his owner leave the house.

“Why don’t you come up to my ce- my apartment at 1300?” Bucky suggested. Maybe a few hours of normal conversation and everyday activity like baking would reassure Steve that he wouldn't disappear overnight.

***

The bathroom felt like the most private room in the apartment. Maybe there were cameras everywhere, maybe there weren’t any and surveillance was purely going over Jarvis and the occasional visits. Either way, Bucky decided the neat gray tiles where the right place to curl up on, his head resting on the luxurious bathtub, porcelain so shiny he could almost see his own reflection in it.

He’d been so busy trying to figure himself out, rearranging the chaos in his own head, that he hadn’t really had time to think about the other people in his life. Well, Steve was really all there was left by now. And they’d only just reunited, had only just gotten through the initial ‘sorry I tried to murder you’ phase. This was all happening too fast.

But.

There they were, inconvenient memories, making his skin tingle and his heart ache.

Steve’s skinny body outlined in pale moonlight as they came home from a night at the dance hall.

His face lighting up with joy when they’d won two fresh oranges in a game of cards.

Holding him in his arms one night, not to warm him or to comfort him, but just because they wanted to, slightly intoxicated, listening to the soft music from the wedding party next door.

Leaning against Steve’s broad shoulder, head swimming, whole body aching, but his chest light and warm as they marched through the endless forests.

Bucky felt it now, the echo of those moments, the closeness of Steve’s hand to his in the common room. It made him feel like a stupid dumb teenager. He’d known it, of course, somewhere in him that had always been an undeniable, unchangeable truth.

Bucky Barnes was and had always been in love with Steve Rogers.

Chapter Text

Steve had never been to this part of the tower. He’d been aware that it was constructed with high security and durability in mind, keeping Bruce from hurting himself and others. Instead of the metal bars and security cameras he’d expected, he floor looked more like a very expensive hotel.

Jarvis announced his presence and a few seconds later, the door to the apartment opened.

It didn’t look like much of a home but it certainly wasn’t a cell either.

Bucky was standing behind the counter, neatly organizing ingredients and equipment.

He’d cooked and baked for them before, especially after Sarah Rogers’ death - not that they’d had much to cook with - but it was a strange sight nonetheless. This new Bucky, with the long hair and haunted eyes and a metal arm that carefully balanced the opened cookbook.

Steve’s head still had trouble separating his friend from Brooklyn and the ex-assassin.

Sam had told him not to expect this new person to be the man from his past, to be patient and careful, let him find his place in the strange new world. That was more than Shield had let Steve have when he’d woken from the ice. And he knew he wasn't the same skinny guy from before either, the war and the ice and the Avengers had left their mark on him just as much. But having Buck back, after all these years, after walking the future feeling out of place, he couldn't help but want things to be the way they used to be.

“You can start by carving out that pumpkin.” Bucky said without looking up.

“Never done that part before.” Steve said thoughtfully, turning the pumpkin around in his hands. He wondered if it would be childish to carve a face into it as well. October might be over, but it seemed to good of an opportunity.

“We just need the insides.” Bucky said into his cookbook, grinning. “Thought we could do something fun with the rest.”

“Great minds think alike.” Steve said softly.

They got to work, following the instructions as accurately as they could.

Steve didn’t know you could put so many different things into one type of food. The spices alone filled half the page.

Jarvis played them a selection of songs. At first they tried to stick with modern music, trying to grow accustomed to the songs of the future, but they were all fast and loud and the lyrics sounded deeply inappropriate. In the end, the AI got them slightly modernized covers of songs from what Jarvis labelled “vintage music”.

“Do you remember how we used to dance through your living room?” Steve asked, sketching a face on his pumpkin with a sharpie. “You were always trying to get me to lead but I just kept getting confused with the steps.”

Buck nodded slowly. “You were hopeless, kept tripping over your own feet.” His eyes focused on something in the distance. “When we were old enough to go to dances I tried so hard to teach you how to dance with a dame. And you said-” He frowned, eyes turning back to his work. “You were a hopeless case.”

I’d rather dance with you anyway. Steve remembered saying. No one gets me like you do.

Did Bucky remember? What was it about their childhood that had upset him so much?

It was quiet aside from the songs playing in the background, Bucky barely talked, just gave the instructions and commented on the process.

He felt distant, avoided his eyes, moved carefully to keep a certain distance between them.

Steve carefully cut the cartoony face into his pumpkin. He’d chosen a skeleton face from a kid’s movie Nat had told him to watch.  It looked much better than anything their neighbours had carved. He placed it on the kitchen table, admiring his work.

“Looks great.” Bucky murmured, busying himself with the high-tech oven Stark had supplied the apartment with. “Still an artist then?”

Steve smiled fondly. “I try. Don’t really have the energy to paint anymore these days but I sketch from time to time.” He’d only filled two sketchbooks since he woke from the ice and most of it were crossed out failed scribbles.  There was an uneasiness in him that kept him from really committing to a drawing.

The room went quiet again. Steve wondered if Bucky just didn't like talking about the past in general.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Bucky lifted his head and met his eyes for the first time since their breakfast.

“What makes you think you did?”

“You got out pretty fast this morning and you’ve been avoiding me all day.” He cleared his throat. “Not that I blame you or anything, its fine, if you need time, I can go-”

Bucky shook his head. “It’s okay, really, it's not that.” He sighed and leaned against the counter. “Being with you is just … strange. There are these echoes of who I was and this pull towards who I am now and you’re just right in the middle.” He chewed his lip nervously and Steve fought the urge to move forward and touch him. “It’s not that I don’t want you around, I just don’t know how to act, what to say.”

“That’s okay.” Steve said hoarsely. “Took me weeks to really talk to anyone when I got out of the ice. And months to actually open up. I shouldn't expect you to just jump right in.”

Bucky smiled weakly and shrugged.

“Hey, didn’t Pepper mention a gym?” He asked. “Those muffins are gonna take a while to bake and I’ve been stuck in this room for too long already.”

***

The gym was even more of a common room than the coffee-and-tv one was. Turns out when you’re having a group of assassins, spies and soldiers share a tower, they are more likely to train their fighting than share a hot chocolate.

When Steve and Bucky arrived, Natasha was already dodging the soft rubber projectiles, firing back at the dummy Stark had programmed for her.

Arrows flying from seemingly nowhere, hitting the targets that were spread out across the room told them Barton wasn’t far away either.

Steve cast his friend a worried glance. He hadn’t considered how noisy and busy the gym could be, the projectiles weren’t as loud as actual gunshots but they still came close.

Bucky seemed calmed enough though. He watched the room with interest, following Nat’s movements with a look of pride.

The Black Widow dropped out of the range with elegance and approached them. “What do you say, Soldat?”

Steve flinched at cast Bucky a nervous glance, but the other man looked relaxed and amused.

“Shield was treating you well, it seems.” He answered.

Nat shook her head. “Clint is.” She said. “Best partner I could’ve wished for.”

Barton dropped from his hiding spot under the ceiling. “Still gotta watch her back, she’s too focused on what’s in front of her.” He held out his hand. “Sorry we had to meet under such bad circumstances. Promise I wont shoot any poisoned arrows at you anymore.”

Bucky took his hand, looking like he was going to say something but holding the comment back.

“Gym’s all yours, we’re about done here.” Nat announced, padding his back on the way out.

Steve wondered if it was wise to ask about the details of their shared past. She definitely talked to Buck with confidence, not tiptoeing around him the way Steve felt he did.

Clint shrugged, like he had not intended to stop his training yet but did not dare question Natasha.

“Are these two… together?” Bucky asked after the Agents had left.

Steve chuckled. “They’ve both been doing this awkward dance ever since they met but I don't think either of them is gonna make a move anytime soon.”

For all their bravery and skill in battle, the duo were a mess when it came to human emotion.

“Maybe they’re scared how things would change if they said what they felt.” Bucky murmured.

He was stalking off to the climbing track before Steve could answer.

Working out eased the tension between them. At first they each did their own thing, climbing, throwing knives, shooting rubber projectiles at moving targets. It didn’t take long until their routines crossed, falling back into their old rhythm, making their way through the training course Tony had prepared.

Steve had been worried the fighting would affect Bucky in a bad way, but it seemed to calm him down, the tension and distance he’d been keeping melting away, until they stood back to back, throwing the shield back and forth between them as the dummies shot their non-lethal weapons at them.

Back in the war, Steve had been the one to throw himself in the line of fire, using shield and body to protect his men - much to Bucky’s frustration. Buck had been good, fast and skilled, but now, Steve realized, he was faster than him. He threw the dummy knives at their robotic opponents, dodged missiles, blocked them with his arm and kept Steve’s left always secure.

When he got his hands on the shield, he threw it with precision and caught it in his left hand with ease.

Jarvis ended their training gently, shutting down the training course and politely reminding them of the baked goods they’d left behind. Pepper had insisted the AI would be equipped with a program that would make sure the tower’s inhabitants took care of themselves, ate and slept enough, after seeing them struggle with what happened in New York. Clint especially had had a hard time coping, so Jarvis reminded him to eat, tried to manage his sleep schedule and shut down the training course when the archer spent too much time in the gym.

“It’s an impressive training course.” Bucky said as they made their way back to the living quarters. “Stark really thought of everything.”

Steve laughed. “You should see what Jarvis brings out when Thor is here! Tony spent months working on that after the Battle of New York.” He missed the odd alien god. Thor had been the only one of the team who’d been just as confused and lost in this new world. “You’d like him. Thor, I mean. Bit dramatic, but he’s a good guy.”

The elevator opened to Steve’s apartment. He didn't step out.

“We should do this again.”

Bucky stared at the floor. “Yeah it was good.” His hair was tangled from training, strands hanging into his face. Steve resisted the urge to push them back.

“Okay if I see you again tomorrow?” He asked carefully. The last thing he’d want was to force himself on Buck and scaring him away. But after all these years apart, all he wanted was to make up for lost time.

“Yeah sure, you gotta taste those muffins after all.”

***

Endless hot showers were definitely the best thing about Stark Tower.

Bucky spent an hour letting it run over his scarred body, steam filling the air, til his skin was slightly red and blotchy. Jarvis checked in to make sure he wasn’t having a severe mental breakdown or planning murders. He reassured the ceiling voice that he was doing fine, it was just still overwhelming to have such luxury at his hand.

That was at least a small part of the truth. Good enough.

Training had been good. Moving his muscles, feeling the calm of battle, even if it was just training. He didn't like fighting itself. He didn't want to hurt people. All this war and death had torn him apart, even before Hydra. But for 70 years it also been the only thing he knew.

There was no second guessing, no worrying, no insecurity. Bucky was good at fighting. Probably even better when Steve was fighting by his side.

He wondered how the old Bucky had managed this, the pull from being close to him, that electric tingle on his skin, the overwhelming surge of emotion every time their eyes met.

Buck rolled his eyes at himself. He sounded like one of the cringey teenagers in the novels he read to pass time.

“Jarvis.” He said carefully, dropping on the couch to stare at the ceiling. Even though he knew the AI didn't really live in the ceiling, it was less scary talking to the white paint than speaking to a disembodied voice floating around him.

“How can I help you, Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky hesitated. How much did the computer voice pass on to Stark and the others? If he asked the wrong questions, would his privileges be taken away again?

“Where would - If I wanted to find out … certain details about a famous person? Where could I read up on that?”

“If you are interested in researching specific developments in human history, particularly those events left out in most books, I can ask Ms Potts to grant you limited access to the internet.”

“Uh, yeah that- that would be great. Thanks”

Pepper showed up herself, two hours later, carrying a laptop in her arms. Bucky gave her some of his muffins.

“I’m sorry we didn't give you this earlier, to be honest, I didn’t expect you to be interested in internet research. Steve took months of convincing, he kept insisting knowledge should be on real paper.”

“Should’ve seen how upset he got when Howard showed him his own database and told him he’d never need a book again.” Bucky chuckled. “Steve shoved novels in his face for the next two weeks.”

The CEO cocked her head to the side and cast him a curious glance. “What was he like? Howard Stark.”

“He was a good man.” A familiar heaviness bloomed in his chest. A good man he had killed. “Good friend. Without him who knows where I’d be now. Sure, Steve would’ve walked all the way to Hydra’s doorstep but… he might’ve been too late.” He shrugged. “Howard could be real full of himself, too, real pain in the ass when he finished another great project and expected all of us to shower him with praise. Maybe that’s why he liked Steve so much, he spent ages making puppy eyes at every piece of armour and every bit of progress on those robot things.”

Pepper smiled fondly. “And you didn't?”

“Oh it was impressive alright.” Bucky said, shaking his head. “But if you gave him too much praise, he’d never stop. Gotta keep that ego in check.”

Pepper laughed. “Yeah, the Stark men should be handled with care.” She placed the Laptop on the kitchen counter and typed in a few lines of code. “There, you should have access to a few websites now. If you need anything else, feel free to ask Jarvis.”

Bucky nodded. “Thank you. Really.”
“Or me.” The redhead added. “You can always text me directly, the number’s in your phone.”

He phrased his searches carefully, trying to weave himself from link to link to avoid being too obvious. Just in case. He found plenty.

Gossip magazines and online blogs discussed every female who so much as looked at Steve as a potential love interest. Natalia especially seemed to be in many articles, showing photographs of her with her hand on his shoulder, leaning forward to talk to him.

There was a blonde, too, a former Shield Agent who turned out to be Peggy Carter’s niece. Bucky frowned. Dating his Ex’ niece, really?

What all these reporters and bloggers seemed to miss though was the obvious problem with all their footage: Steve never looked back at these girls. Not the way he had looked at Peggy. Not the way Bucky looked at him.

So, it seemed Steve really had not been  with anyone since he crashed.

Not that that meant anything.

“I don’t know if you are aware of this, Sergeant Barnes” the ceiling voice put in, not waiting for Bucky to address him. “but the general public opinion of same sex relationships has changed for the better since your time.”

Not that inconspicuous then. Some Winter Soldier you are. Jeez.

He glared at the ceiling.

“I have been asked to observe and interpret your behaviour to issue a warning should anything be potentially threatening. Your interest in Captain Rogers’ romantic past does not pose a threat. I will not pass that information on to anyone else.”

Huh .

“Thanks…?” Bucky said carefully. The laptop opened up a few pages on its own, most of them using words and acronyms that he didn’t recognize. His cover having been blown now anyway, he sat cross-legged on the couch and began to read.

***

Steve stared at the blank canvas, cramming in his head for inspiration. It used to come so much easier to him, even when he wasn’t able to tell the colours apart, he just picked up the brushes and started creating. Nowadays, his mind kept racing through a million thoughts, unable to settle, to bring an image to his inner eye.

He’d sketched, from time to time, but he never got lost in his work like he used to.

The Steve Rogers from his past had dreamed of being an illustrator one day. He’d be appalled.

Taking a deep breath, Steve  closed his eyes, trying to find something that calmed him. Grey eyes and a crooked smile danced through his head. The smell of cheap whiskey and cigarettes.

Of course. Who else.

He picked up his brush, starting to work on the rough shape of Bucky’s face, mixing blues and oranges into his skin tones, letting the light play over his features. The hair was long, as it was now, falling in soft curls almost to his shoulders.

Steve felt his heart swell with each little detail he added, drawing from his memory, the small creases around his eyes, the elegant shape of his lips, the perfectly straight nose, the way Buck’s eyes lit up with excitement when he worked through his cookbook in the kitchen.

He’d drawn and painted him a lot, back when they’d shared an apartment, sketched his silhouette against the kitchen window, his elegant hands working on the radiator when it broke down again, painted him asleep on the couch when he looked soft and vulnerable and another piece of Bucky in the boxing club when he was strong and dangerous. It was easy to get lost in his presence, even on canvas.

The sun set and rose again while Steve drowned in his art, paint splattering his hands, chest and face. The world just disappeared. His mind was calmer, more quiet, thoughts coming and going gently.

When there was nothing more he could add, Steve leaned back, taking in his work.

Bucky looked happy, laughing, his eyes focused on something in the distance, light dancing across his face. He was beautiful, Steve realized, a work of art by himself. No canvas could ever do him justice, but he was quite satisfied with his attempt.

Mind foggy with exhaustion, he crawled into his bed, not even bothering to wash the dried paint of his skin.

Burying his head into the soft sheets, sleep already gnawing at the edges of his consciousness, he couldn't control the images creeping into his mind.

***

Somehow, Bucky found himself sitting in the common room area, playing poker with Steve and, for some reason, Tony Stark.

He’d been down to the workshop a few times, letting him do scans and poke around at his arm. Apparently he was in contact with a group of specialists who could help him build a whole new arm and with it create a line of high-quality prosthetic limbs for war veterans.

Bucky was willing to suffer through the endless quibs and horrible music if that meant helping fellow soldiers with their struggles and he was pretty sure Stark knew that.

Something was different today. Tony looked exhausted and haunted, the way he remembered the Howlies looking after they had arrived too late to one of Hydra’s labs. He wondered why Steve of all people in the tower was the one Tony fled to.

No one mentioned it.

It turned out that Stark was pretty good at poker.

Since betting money with a billionaire is pretty much useless, they decided to use the last batch of Bucky’s cookies. But as good as the rich party boy was, Steve and Bucky had practise ín fooling soldiers with tactical training and superb people knowledge.

In the end, Tony underestimated Steve’s ability to lie (and quite possibly cheat), losing all his cookies to the super soldier.

He leaned back and pouted. “America is disappointed in you, Capsicle.”

Steve chuckled. “ America will get over it.” He held out a cookie. Tony glared at it and shook his head.

It was like watching toddlers on a playground.

“You guys know I can make more? It’s kinda the only thing I’ve been doing since I got here.”

Stark raised his brow at him. “First of all, that’s not the point, this is my tower- well Pepper’s tower with my name on it- and I will not be defeated in card games by the world’s second hottest grandpa. Second, you have access to the biggest library of entertainment media, a fully automated super-soldier-training-gym and most importantly, the internet, why you choose to spend your time with baked goods instead, I will never understand.”

“You have more money than any man could possibly spend” Bucky said. “yet you keep working on new inventions.”

“Also, second hottest?” Steve added with faked upset.

Tony rolled his eyes. “The two of you together are a nightmare, you know that?” He grabbed a handful of cookies from Steve, dodging the playful punches that followed. Nibbling at his loot, he walked up to the large windows, glancing outside on the city, busy and bright as ever.

“Almost christmas time again, can you believe it? We should do something, a good marketing plan. Sexy Santa calendar!” He shook his head. “Ugh Pepper would never let me.”

Steve rolled his eyes and turned around. “Hey Buck, that reminds me, you don’t have a Hanukkiah in your apartment yet, do you?” His eyes lit up like child’s. “We should get some things for the holidays! Like old times?”

Affection spread through Bucky’s chest. Holiday celebrations had been the last thing on his mind since Hydra, but the thought of reviving old traditions was both frightening and appealing.

Tony turned away from the city skyline. “That candle thing? Hanukkah?”

Bucky shrugged. “We used to celebrate together.” He smiled fondly. “Steve came over to my place every evening when we lit the candles. And I came over to his place for christmas eve.”

“After ma died and Buck moved in with me we tried making all of December a celebration.” Steve said fondly. “Singing songs, dancing, telling stories. No functioning heating, piles of food or fancy presents though.”

“Hanukkah’s about hope. About the survival of our people, overcoming all obstacles. The food and the coins are fun when you’re a kid but its not less of a celebration without it.”

He thought about their improvised, small meals, crafting their own dreidels and playing with the few chocolate coins they’d been able to find. Christmas tree for Steve, decorated with whatever shiny things they could find. Presents under the tree, some kind of bird for dinner on christmas eve. Bucky had never told Steve how many extra hours he’d had to work or what sketchy jobs he took on the side. It had been worth it.

“Yeah we could do that again.” He decided.

Steve grinned, his hand grabbing Bucky’s arm as he started listing all the things they’d need to buy, excitedly planning out the whole celebration with every friend he could think of.

Bucky found it hard to follow the words, his mind fixing inevitably on the warmth of Steve’s hand on his skin and the glow in his eyes as he spoke.

Tony rolled his eyes at them.

***

It was getting late and the common room was deserted, except for Sam lounging on the couch, reading a newspaper. The bottle of Whiskey next to him told Steve it had been a rough night.

“You okay?” He asked carefully. Tony and Clint had taken Sam on a mission a few days ago and he had a feeling it hadn’t been very successful. Barton hadnt left his rooms since then and the Iron Man had pulled all-nighters working on god knows what in the garage again, which had freaked Pepper out.

The other man lowered the paper, sitting up straighter on the couch. “Yeah, no worries. Just another restless evening.” Sam sighed and shook his head. “Well, mission was tough, but no use thinking about that all night now. Trying not to.”

Steve nodded. “Well, I’m here if you need to talk.” He sat down on the armchair opposite of his friend and accepted the glass he offered him. Not that the earthly alcohol had any effect on him, but the burning in his throat at least cleared his thoughts a bit.

“You look pretty out of it, too. Something happen with Barnes?”

“Kind of.” He took another sip, feeling the alcohol burn on his tongue, trying to decide if this really was a good idea. “It’s kinda silly, really.

“I was helping him with something and we talked and laughed and the we were dancing.”

He pulled a face, realizing how ridiculous he already sounded. Sam watched him, patiently, nodding to encourage him to continue.

“There was this… moment. When I looked at him and he was- I just realized how stupidly beautiful he was. Not just good looking, but just. Kind and gentle and brave. I just wanted to hold him in my arms and-” He stopped, feeling the blood rush into his face. “And I sound like a damn teenager, don’t I?”

“Kinda.” Sam chuckled. “But considering that you had to grow up way too fast and your mind is barely 30, I think we can cut you some slack.” He leaned towards Steve. “You think you guys could be more than just friends.”

“No! Yes. Maybe? I dont know, I never, we cant- It was probably nothing. Forget I ever said anything.” Steve felt his heart racing with sudden panic. Saying it out loud, revisiting what had happened, it made it all too real, too much. He wasnt- he didnt- Bucky was his best friend. He was a guy . He was- He was just Bucky.

“Steve.” Sam’s voice was quiet and calming. He placed his hand on Steve’s knee, the touch bringing his thoughts back to the conversation. “It’s not the 1940s anymore. Things have changed. Aren’t perfect, but better. And people change, and the way we see them changes with them.”

“I dont even know what I feel, Sam, it was just one stupid moment.” And every moment since then. And every memory of the moments before. Just him .

“You wont know what it is if you sit around feeling sorry for yourself, trying to get drunk on cheap gas station whiskey.”

“I just got him back, Sam! What if- what if it scares him away? Ruins everything? I’m not supposed to feel this way, everything about this is wrong!”

“Dude, I get that, really I do. But. The guy broke through 70 years of torture and conditioning just by looking at you. Kept you fed and drugged while his pals went dancing and drinking with pretty ladies. He turned down an honorary discharge so he could look after your spandex-covered ass. And now he’s fighting through years of trauma with complete strangers just so he can hang out with you like a normal person. He’s baking cookies for me, for god’s sake.” He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow at him. “I doubt there’s anything you could ever do to get rid of him and I am also pretty sure the feeling’s mutual.”

Steve hated it when Sam made sense.

“So, what do I do?” He mumbled, hiding his face behind his hands.

“Take him out. Go on a date. Do what normal people do, for god’s sake.” He picked up the newspaper and held it out to Steve, pointing at a large photograph of a beautifully decorated ferris wheel. “Travelling fun fair will be here for a few days. Pretty lights, music, adrenaline and fun. Perfect date.”

Date. A date. With Bucky. Steve could hear the Howlies laugh at him from their graves.
Though, to be fair, they’d probably applaud them, considering how they called Bucky and him an old married couple ever since that one poker night…

***

The air was filled with laughter, screaming, loud music and a million different scents.

People were everywhere, streaming in and out of the rides, gathering up in bulks around booths, playing games, eating and drinking.

Coloured lights flashed all over the place, advertising excitement and thrills.

The wave of information crashed over Bucky, making his head dizzy, his body tensed up in a fight or flight moment. Steve took his left hand.

“You okay? We can go home again if you want, it alright.” He had to lean in close to avoid shouting, his voice was warm and worried.

Bucky took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’m fine, let’s go.” His hand tightened around Steve’s. He could feel the pressure through the metal, focussing on his friend’s reassuring presence.

He remembered liking fairs alot when he was young. The excitement, the freedom, the adrenaline. Steve and he had saved up for it every year.

They pushed through the crowd, bodies of strangers pressing against them.

It made his shoulders tense, eyes darting back and forth to check for potential threats. Maybe this had been a mistake. It would be easy to hide in the mass of strangers, a swift stab with a knife to the right region of the abdomen and disappear into the crowd before anyone realized what had happened. He knew because he’d done it before.

Steve dragged him to the side and Bucky forced his breath to calm. This was important to him, he could tell by the way his eyes lit up when they’d seen the poster for the fair.

The booth that had caught Steve’s attention was covered in a rainbow of candy and emitted a strong smell of burned sugar. There were little gingerbread houses, trapped in plastic and decorated with so much glitter, Bucky didnt think anyone would want to ever eat it.

So much food, everywhere, put on display, molded into funny shapes, thrown out when it people got bored of it. Like it was nothing. He’d seen chocolate shaped like tools or computers and houses made from cake before and the baker had told him people didnt eat them, only placed them in their living rooms as decoration and tossed them out when the season was over. What a waste. Who the fuck makes food to look at it?

Something moved towards him and he flinched, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Sorry pal,” Steve said softly, smiling apologetically, “didn’t see you were that lost in thought.” He reached out again, slower this time, placing something around Bucky’s neck. It was a gingerbread heart, decorated with pink, blue and white frosting. He looked at the other hearts that hung in bunched from the front of the booth.

They all featured cheesy quotes and crappy drawings of heart, flowers and animals. He cringed.

“What does it say?” He craned his neck trying to read the writing upside down.

Steve laughed. “Something about princesses! Internet said it’s custom to buy silly candy things for your- for the people you’re with.”

Bucky wondered what kind of websites had suggested that. Embarrassing candy jewelry seemed even more useless than inedible chocolate tools. Then why did the gesture make his heart beat so fast?  

Steve bought a pack of roasted almonds and glanced across the marketplace. “See anything you like?”

Bucky stared at Steve, that childish joy and amazement on face as he scanned the area. It made his skin tingle, that strange pull to reach out and put his palm against the reddened cheeks.

You .

The thought inevitably popped up in his head. He tried to force it back into the box of feelings he didnt want to deal with.

Bucky took another deep breath and looked around, trying not to panic at the sensory overload that hit him everytime he tried to focus. Too many people, racing through his vision, lights blinking, three different songs clashing in the air.

Something caught his attention. He instinctively grabbed Steve’s hand and dragged him through the crowd, focusing his mind on the destination, trying hard to block out the other humans brushing against him.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked when they approached the shooting gallery.

“It’s just a game right? Not an actual weapon?” Bucky pointed at a little girl who was putting tiny yellow balls into a rifle before aiming it clumsily at a bunch of plastic stars. It didnt look like you could do any real damage with those.

“Sure, they’re all child-friendly. But they’re still guns.”

The toy rifle was way lighter than any weapon Bucky had carried with him, but the way it settled into his grip was familiar. It send a soothing calm over his body, noises and smells and lights fading into the background. The man behind the counter pressed a button and four rows of tin horses started moving through a 2D landscape.

The tiny plastic bullets took them down with speed and precision. It was no challenge, of course, Bucky hadn’t expected it to be. But it was something familiar, something he was good at and it calmed his raging mind.

When all the toy targets had fallen, he rose, handing the rifle back over the counter. The man looked too tired to be impressed. Shame.

He pointed at the stuffed animals hanging over his head.

“One of those or two from that row.” He said.

Next to them, the little kid growled as he missed another one of the plastic stars.

She started digging in his tiny wallet for more coins.

“I take that one, and whatever the little gal shoots, she gets to pick the second one?”

Bucky said. The guy shrugged and nodded.

Steve looked up from his almonds and grinned. “Win anything good?”

Bucky grinned and held the stuffed Captain America out to him. It was the most terrifying plushie he had ever seen.

“They didnt have a teddy bear so I got the next best thing.”

“The resemblance is uncanny.”
“I think he has a nicer nose.”

He turned around to watch the kid excitedly grab her price, a stuffed Iron Man. Traitor .

Steve dragged them on through the crowd, until they reached a small ferris wheel.

It wasn’t as big as the ones in Bucky’s memory. Images flashed through his mind, date nights with pretty dames, shuffling close to him in the cold evening air, the lights of the city alive around them as they rose higher and higher.

“What do you think?” Steve asked, the fairy lights reflecting in his eyes.

“It looks like an accident waiting to happen.”

“We jumped from a flying helicarrier.”

“I jumped. You fell. And it was crashing.”

Steve frowned.

Bucky sighed. It was a way to stay away from the noise and the people.

They climbed in the small cart, catching a questioning glance from the employee. He wondered if it was Captain America or the princess heart around his neck.

Slowly, the people and lights and noises faded as they rose into the night sky.

Bucky let the Cap-plushie sit on his lap.

“That was nice of you, letting the kid have your price.” Steve said softly.

“It’s just a dumb toy, Steve.”

“For her it wasn’t.”

Bucky watched the fair grow smaller below them. It looked really beautiful from far away, a blurred mess of lights, warm and soft, the noise drowned out into a cheerful mumbling.

He preferred it this way.

“Beautiful.” Steve said quietly.

Bucky turned his head and met Steve’s eyes, all fairy lights and stars and childish glee.

You are.

“It is.”

They were high enough to see the rest of the city unfold below them now, a painting of blues and grays, the fair a pulsing heart of gold in it’s center.

Something about the night had always made Bucky feel nostalgic, even when he wasn’t himself, he had liked the stillness and peace it brought him.

The air was chilly, clearing his head, refocusing his thoughts.

“You used to take girls up these things, remember?”

Bucky nodded. “Just cuz you never wanted to come up with me.”

Steve chuckled. “I always envied them for seeing the stars with you. But we had our rooftop.”

Heat radiated from his skin, despite the october cold.

Bucky could feel it on his right hand, resting so closely to Steve’s, it was almost painful. Without really meaning to, he slowly moved his fingers until their skin touched.

He heard Steve draw a deep, shaky breath, and suddenly his fingers intertwined with Bucky’s and the gesture made his heart jump against his ribs, head spinning, skin set on fire.

“Whatever happens,” Steve whispered, his voice suddenly sounding thick and hoarse. “I don’t- I never want to lose you again.” His eyes were fixed on the lights in front of him, the glow reflecting like golden stars.

Bucky held his hand tighter, searching the other man’s face curiously. “Of course you won’t, Stevie.” He said softly. “I’m with you…” He chuckled softly. “Til the end of the line.”

Steve turned his head, his face looked sad and lost.

“I just.” He drew another quivering breath.

Bucky could feel him shaking, his own heart racing.

“I just really want to kiss you.”

Steve’s words hung in the air, for a moment there was just the faint music below them, the cold air against their skin and their hands, holding each other tightly.

And then, the box in Bucky’s mind exploded, spilling every moment of quiet affection, of protective touch, of hopes and dreams that he’d never dared to even think about.

The moment his lips touched Steve’s, it all went quiet.

Tentatively, Bucky reached up, his right hand cupping Steve’s face, the other one carefully grasping his scarf to pull him closer. He could hear the bag of candy drop to the carriage’s floor as Steve mirrored the movement, a soft noise escaping from the back of his throat as he leaned into the kiss.

They got lost in each other, the tension burning away in the heat of their embrace.

All these years, all the fighting and fear and pain, always bringing them back to each other.

They pulled apart to catch their breath, foreheads pressed together.

“You are so … beautiful.” Steve murmured, gently running his fingertips over Bucky’s face, until it rested under his chin, thumb tracing the outline of his lips.

“You’ve always been beautiful to me, Steve.” Bucky confessed, “Even before… before everything.”

Chapter Text

Golden sunlight fell through the curtains, warming Bucky’s face. He buried his head into the pillow.

A smile spread on his face as the grogginess of sleep faded away and he remembered the previous night.

Music, crowds, the cool evening air, sparkling lights.

Steve. Kissing Steve. After all those years.

Walking hand in hand through the quiet city, softly reminiscing on old memories and newer ones.

Bucky hadn’t told him for how long he’d dreamed of this. How he really felt about him. But there’d be time for that another day.

Simply being with him like that, unafraid to touch him, no longer hiding the affectionate glances, had been more than he’d ever dared imagine.

It had been almost painful to say goodnight before returning to his extra secure, supervised apartment.

With a long sigh, Bucky pushed himself out of bed, padding towards the kitchen, desperate to clear his head with caffeine.

“Good Morning, Sergeant Barnes.” The ceiling voice sai in a surprisingly soft tone. “Captain Rogers asked me to inform you he’ll be getting you the necessary supplies for your holiday celebrations. I am to notify him as soon as you are awake and ready to have visitors. Should I give him a suitable time?”

Bucky held his hand up to the ceiling in a shushing gesture. He punched his preferred settings into the machine and watches the steaming liquid fill the cup.

The memory from the previous night floated around him, surrounding him with soft touches and whispered words of affection. He wanted to take each of them in as long as he could.

Wrapping his hands around the hot cup, Bucky took a few long sips of his Latte before staring back up at the ceiling.

“1800” he said “That should be fine.”

***

Steven Grant Rogers had never backed away from a fight.

He’d challenged bullies in alleyways, hunted Nazis through all of Europe and battled giant aliens on the streets of New York.

There really weren’t many things that could still scare him.

Yet, something about celebrating holiday season with his oldest, closest friend scared the shit out of him.

It took a few moments for the events of the fair to settle in when Steve woke the next morning. At first, they felt like a dream. But not in his most secret dreams had he ever imagined the softness in Bucky’s voice or the overwhelming sensation of safety and home as their hands interlaced and their foreheads rested together, surrounded by glistening lights. These things only happened in cheesy movies. But the emotions were too strong for it to not have been real.

Jarvis agreed to let him know when Buck would wake and willing to see him.

Until then, Steve had things to take care of.

His heart was racing and his skin felt tingly all day, anxiety clawing at him with every decision he realized he had to make.

Candles or oil? LED fairy lights or small lanterns? Prayers, songs, games?? Should other people be invited or would that overwhelm him?

“Deep breaths, Steve.” Sam said, as Steve called him when he felt close to losing his mind completely.

“Red or blue, Sam?? Red or Blue!!?”

“Steve.”

“Sam!”

“Breathe.”

Steve forced his breath to calm, breathing slowly in through the nose and exhaling through the mouth as he had been told many times before.

“What happened last night?” Sam asked gently.

“We kissed.”

Sam whistled. “Not bad, man.”

“What if I am making a giant mistake? Things were going so well. If I mess this up I’ll lose closest thing to family I have.”

He hadnt worried about that last night. Everything had been so magical, so exciting, so beautiful. Bucky smiling at him, so peaceful and happy, so incredibly fascinatingly beautiful. That moment had been all that mattered.

“First of all,” Sam said slowly, “you have a giant group of superhero friends who’d be very offended that you dont consider them family.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Secondly. I said it before and I’ll say it again, that bond you two have wont be broken that easily. You care for the guy. You’re getting a second chance to be with him. Many people would kill for that. Dont let that go to waste.”

Sam made sense. Steve hated when he did that.

“So. What do I do?” He sighed.

“Stop worrying so much, idiot! Get those damn decorations, trust your gut and stop driving yourself mad.”

***

Jarvis announced Steve’s arrival just in time for Bucky to brush through his hair one last time and tie it up in a bun. He’d thought about cutting it, making it look the way it had before, but somehow that didnt feel right. That wasnt who he was anymore.

He nervously tucked at the hem of his shirt as the doors opened and Steve entered, carrying two large bags.

“Brought some supplies.” Steve grinned nervously. “Not exactly what we had back in Brooklyn …”

“Might be time for some new traditions.” Bucky said softly. He felt strangely nervous, his hands shaking slightly as he reached for the bags. His eyes wouldnt stop flicking back to Steve’s lips, his skin tingling everytime he got too close. Something told him this was what it had been like, way back when he first realized how he felt, before he learned how to shut it all in and hide it away.

Only now he didnt want to hide anymore.

Steve had brought enough lights to light up the entire tower like a shopping mall on christmas eve. Bag number one was filled with anything that could sparkle or glow, from golden LED candles to rainbow fairylights, while the second contained what looked like enough food and candy to feed the whole Avengers team through the Hanukkah days. Which might have been the plan.

Bucky asked Jarvis to put on a playlist of holiday songs as they sorted through Steve’s purchases, placing fairy lights, lanterns and ornaments in the apartment, filling it with glitter and glow. It reminded Bucky of the movies his sister had loved to watch with him. It also made the place feel less like a prison cell, wrapping it into the warmth and safety of a home.

Steve sang along to the music, softly at first, just a soft muttering under his breath, getting more confident with each song, until he belted out the lyrics, dancing up and down like an excited child.

Hesitantly, he took Bucky by the hand and dragged him along, until they clumsily danced their way around the apartment, surrounded by a growing number of lights and glitter.

They’d danced together before, trying to figure out how to treat a dame on a date, practising careful steps and gentleman-ly gestures that Buck’s ma taught them. But those had been careful, shy, following whatever protocol society had given them. Now, they moved without rhyme or reason, spinning around, laughing, until Bucky bowed dramatically and announced that he needed a break.

They placed the nativity scene and the hanukkhia on the window sill, the New York skyline glowing behind them, like they had when they’d shared the apartment in Brooklyn.

Humming softly, Bucky lit the first of the eight candles, watching the flame dance softly in the reflection on the window. He felt Steve place his hand on his back, stepping closer. Bucky leaned into the touch, resting his head against Steve’s chest, feeling his heart beat faster.

“Do you think Ma would be happy about this.” He thought out loud without meaning to. Too many old and new things were clashing together at once, he couldn’t help but wonder.

“All those years and you still celebrate your family’s traditions? She’d be very proud, Buck.” Steve said softly.

“What about-“ he raised his hand, fingers intertwined with Steve’s, “this?”

He remembered wondering the same thing alot when they’d first moved in together and he’d realized he’d never love another person the way he loved Steve.

His mum had loved all of them endlessly, he knew that, but he also knew she’d had her own beliefs.

“Does it make you happy?” Steve asked, his thumb tracing a soft circle over the back of Buck’s hand.

Bucky’s skin felt electrified. He looked at Steve’s reflection on the glass, surrounded by glistening lights, smiling warmly.

“It does.”

“Then she’d be happy too, Buck.” Steve leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on Bucky’s forehead that sent a warm shiver through him.

They stood for a moment, watching the city below them, until Bucky reluctantly retreated from the embrace, dragging Steve off into the kitchen.

***

“You’re really into this whole baking thing now, huh?” Steve asked as Bucky proudly served him his freshly made latkes.

He shrugged. “Was among the first things I was allowed to do. Besides, never had so much food to even work with before. I had no idea you could do so many things with cupcakes alone.”

Creating was definitely better than destroying. Plus, it had made people like him, despite the metal arm and scary assassin eyes.

People like Sam, who eyed the meal and nodded approvingly.

It had been Steve’s idea to invite him over for dinner.  He’d brought them all terribly ugly, knitted sweaters, Bucky’s had a hanukkhia and dreidels on it, Sam’s had a pattern of christmas trees and Steve’s featured funny animals who were also wearing sweaters. The future had a weird thing for animals wearing human clothes.

Bucky didn’t mind, Sam had helped him alot when he’d first come to the tower, but he got the feeling the other man felt a strange competitiveness over being Steve’s best friend. Obviously, him being the friend who fed the skinny kid through tough winters and pulled him from alley fights, that was a competition Bucky would win either way.

Right now though, the way Sam glanced back and forth between Steve and him looked more like a twelve year old teasing his classmate over his first crush.

He wondered how much Steve had told his other definitely secondary best friend.

“So,” Sam said into the awkward silence. “y’all did this every year? Celebrating together?”

Steve nodded happily. “Bucky got a christmas bonus despite being jewish, so we had a little more money for the holidays.”

Bucky shook his head at Sam’s raised eyebrow, counting on Steve to be too busy with the food to notice.

Innocent little bean. Even after all those years.

“Are there, like, presents or something? Should I have brought something? This was all real spontaneous, man.”

“Usually, children get chocolate coins.” Bucky said quietly. “But all the kids in the neighbourhood got christmas presents, so Ma decided we should get a little something as well.”

He’d gotten most of his favourite books as Hanukkah present. When he’d had his first job, he’d gotten out and bought a fairytale book for his sister. Bound in blue velvet, with golden letters. It would’ve been crazy expensive normally, but it had gotten damaged during transport, so Bucky got it for a good price. Becca had loved it.

“Remember those dreidels I made you first Hanukkah after you moved in?” Steve said softly.

Bucky nodded. “You made them out of clay and painted them yourself. They were beautiful.” He chuckled. “We ended up hanging them on the christmas tree.” Which was a few branches they’d gathered in the park and bound together, trying to at least look like a tree.

A warm shudder spread through him as he felt Steve’s hand gently touching his, just a shy, simple gesture. He smiled.

“Should I let you guys get a room…?” Sam raised his eyebrows at them, smirking in amusement.

“Oh you can join us anytime, honey.” Bucky winked at him.

Steve frowned at him.

“Mhmmm, I wouldn’t wanna make anyone jealous.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Careful, I’ll take that as a challenge.”

“Please don’t.” Steve groaned.

Sam laughed. “Pour me another drink and find out.”

It made Bucky feel warm and safe, to be able to jest like this, without fear of being judged.

He took Steve’s hand, fingers interlacing, his heart beating faster.

It was just the two of them. Being themselves. Doing whatever it was the were doing, whatever this meant for them. No hiding. It felt good.

“Gotta say, this is some damn good food, Barnes.”

“Ma’s recipe, as good as I can remember anyway.” He smiled softly.

“If you don’t mind, Imma bring you something from my mum next time I visit her. She makes hella good brownies.”

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

Steve grinned proudly, raising his glass. “Well, to new friendships!” He said enthusiastically.

Sam left after dinner, but Steve stayed around, helping with the cleaning. He was grinning like an idiot. It made Bucky’s heart skip. Everything felt so peaceful, so normal, as if the terrors of the past decades had never even happened. He couldnt help but reach out to touch Steve every chance that he got, just placing his hand on his back to move him around the kitchen or leaning against him when he stood close enough. Just to feel him. To make sure it was all real.

“Glad you and Sam seem to be getting along alright.” Steve said as they finished sorting the dishes back into the cupboard.

“He’s a good guy.” Bucky said carefully. “But does he know I’m clearly the number one friend?”

Steve chuckled, then cleared his throat and blushed as red as his sweater.

“Yeah, uhm… “ He bit his lip nervously, his hand grabbing the cupboard door dangerously tight, making Bucky worry he’d splinter it. “I was actually, sort of, maybe, hoping…” He looked at him, blushing even more. “...that we could be more than that? One day, I mean, maybe, if that’s…”

Bucky reached out, gently removing the giant hand from the poor cupboard door to take it into his.

“Yeah.” He said softly. “Me too.” His heart leapt against his ribs in slightly panicked excitement. He cupped Steve’s face in his other hand and pressed his lips against his forehead.

***

Bucky tucked at the sleeve of his jacket self consciously, hoping the shiny metal of his arm wouldnt glimpse through. It felt wrong, walking down the same streets he’d walked for 20 years, feeling like nothing but a shadow of himself. His long hair fell into his face, shielding him from curious glances of passing strangers.

The past days had been a hazy dream, sharing his holiday celebrations with Steve, watching movies and singing songs. But he couldnt help feeling like something was missing. A last puzzle piece. He had to make the last connection to his past, fill in the gaps.

The first stop he made was his parents’ home. It was a bookshop now, flashy coverart posters covering the windows. Not the worst thing that could happen to a building, but enough to make him feel slightly sick.

He waited for a moment, letting it sink in, memories flooding over him.

Kids playing on the street, music sounding from opened windows, summer heat making the air flimmer. His ma walking down the steps from the front door to bring them snacks, warning them not to stay up too long. That small window on the top floor where their menorah had been visible from the street, always shining warmly.

He’d had his first kiss here, with a girl called Margo, when he was 14. Steve had asked him a million questions about it afterwards, wanting to know if it was just like the stories, the fireworks and the heat, and Bucky got so annoyed by it that he kissed him instead.

Kissing Margo hadn’t been fireworks. Kissing Steve was. Somehow, he’d made himself forget that.

The door to the bookstore opened and he turned, walking away before anyone could talk to him.

His path led him down a few blocks, past the garage where he’d made extra money on the weekends, to the Rogers’ old street.

It was still a house, at least. Christmas lights sparkling in the windows, people moving behind the curtains. A family, probably, preparing dinner, going through their everyday lives, unaware of the ghosts that haunted this place.

Where Sarah Rogers had sung them songs, taught them how to read a music sheet.

Where Steve had sat by the window, paints spread out around him, getting lost in his own world.

Where Bucky had followed him after the funeral, tried so desperately to make him see how much he meant to him without saying the wrong words.

Where they had lived together until they found something more affordable and Steve had tried hard not to cry as they left their old lives behind, moving on to a smaller apartment that was closer to Bucky’s workplace and better isolated to keep Steve from freezing to death during the winter.

The next stop would be the most painful yet.

Bucky’s steps slowed down as he approached the cemetery, raising his head as he walked through the gates. He remembered being here only once or twice as a kid to visit his grandmother’s grave with his ma. Becca had been too young to understand what cemeteries meant, she’d just ran around, admiring the carvings, calling out names she thought were funny or pretty.

His heart felt heavy as he found what he was looking for.

George M. Barnes  - Winifred C. Barnes

Bucky kneeled before the grave, gently taking the small array of flowers from his bag and leaning it against the headstone. He felt like he should say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he started singing.

The sun had set by the time Bucky made his way back towards Manhattan.

He felt lighter, despite the grief and loss he’d felt from facing the past he lost. Maybe now was the time to move forward. Be someone new. Find his own way through this strange, overwhelming future.

A new start, at last.

The men came out of nowhere, stepping off busses, through doors, revealing themselves from among the New York crowd on the streets.

Screams of terror split the air. Gunshots echoed between the large buildings.

They shot through Bucky’s body, making every muscle tense, for a moment he felt himself in blind panic, edges of his vision blurring, breath caught in his lungs. Numb pain pulsed in his head, getting stronger with every second he tried to fight it.

Glass shattered. Rubble flew around him. He realized he was on the ground, gasping for air, his skin torn from whatever had exploded next to him.

The dark silhouette of a man towered above him, his voice digging itself into Bucky’s skull.

"желание”  longing

no no no no

“ржaвый” rusted

Cold. Burning cold creeping through his brain.

“Семнадцать” seventeen

He could feel it screaming in him, clawing at the edges of his conscious.

“Рассвет” daybreak

The pain was unbearable. Anything to make it stop. Anything.

“Печь” furnace

help me

“Девять” nine

Silence.

“добросердечный” benign

The head cleared. Everything fell into place.

“возвращение на родину. Один. грузовой вагон.” homecoming. one. freightcar.

The asset rose. “Я готов отвечать.”

Ready to comply.

***

The shield flew through the air, taking down two of the soldiers before snapping back on Cap’s arm.

He dodged the incoming bullets, rolling through the dusty floor, using the abandoned cars for shelter. One of the men got closer, trying to attack him from the side, but the super soldier was faster, raising him in the air, slamming his body into a wall.

“Where is he!” He yelled, the shield flying again, knocking down a street lamps, causing the attackers to disperse as they jumped out of it’s way.

The Captain was onto them, vibranium hitting their heads, knocking their guns from their hands.

“Tell me what you did to him!” He growled, lifting one of the soldiers from the ground, his fingers digging into his throat.

“Hail Hydra!” The man spat, his mouth filling with foam.

“You cannot believe how fucking tired I am of hearing that.” He sighed, dropping the dying man to the ground.

“Whats your Status, Cap? Any sight of murder bot?”

“You could please not call him that, Tony.”

“Any sight of your robot boyfriend?”

Who the hell has time for this bullshit every time the world’s ending?

“Cyanide. They’re not gonna talk.”

Which was bad. Very bad. Not wanting to talk meant they had a mission that was more important than the individual members of their team.

He could see the Iron Man up in the air and followed the silhouette deeper into the city.

His head felt light, the icy focus of battle keeping him from freaking out, though he could feel the terrified screaming in the back of his head.

Bucky .

Jarvis had notified them almost immediately, as his security system recognized the red emblem on the soldiers’ uniforms.

“Captain, I’m afraid the Sergeant is in grave danger.”

They had an emergency protocol. Clear steps to take in case the Avengers were desperately needed, a thoroughly planned tactic of choosing the right approach, assessing the situation, sending in the right people for the job.

Steve didn’t give a shit. He was out the door, shield in hand before Jarvis had even finished the briefing, Tony screaming furiously into his earpiece.

Bucky’s last known location had been near Brooklyn bridge, that was now surrounded by NYPD officers, Hydra soldiers and Tony’s own people, who were mostly whatever was left of Shield.

“Where the fuck did they even come from?” Cap yelled, shielding a group of civilians as they scrambled to shelter into the subway station. “I thought Hydra went down with Shield!”

Something glinted on one of the higher levels of the buildings. He raised his shield just in time to block the sniper’s bullet.

“Leftovers.” Natasha hissed into his earpiece. “Their last desperate attempt to reclaim their power.”

And what better way to do that than getting back their most powerful weapon.

Steve felt like he was going to be sick, his stomach clenching at the thought. This was his fault. He never should’ve let him out by himself. If they took him back, if they hurt him, it was all on him.

“Yo Capsicle, suspicious van heading down the Broadway towards you.”

“On my way.”

He made his way down the street, jumping crashed cars, following Jarvis’ instructions. People screamed, some in fear, others in excitement. Shots were fired from a nearby building, missing his legs only by a fraction of a second. Barton’s arrows found the shooter only moments after.

Cap broke through to larger street, scanning the area. People were running in terror, further down the street he could see the flash of gunfire, the Iron Man armour glinting in the neon lights of the city. Cars were left abandoned, a mess of metal, rubble, shattered glass.

Except for one black van, racing through the chaos, indifferent to the jammed traffic or frightened people.

He jumped in front of it, smashing shield-first into the front window, landing on the back seat, legs kicking the drivers’ head into the wheel. The car spun with screeching tires, slamming into the parked vehicles on the road.

He scrambled to his feet, shield raised against the incoming bullets from the second soldier in the back. They struggled, a tangle of hands and legs, until Cap’s armoured cowl knocked the guy out.

Then he saw him.

Steve’s heart was racing as he dropped to his knees, reaching out to touch Bucky’s cheek. He was chained to the ground, mouth restrained by that awful mask, his eyes closed.

“Buck? Hey it’s me, I’m here, it’s gonna be okay.” Using the shield’s sharp edges, he broke through the chains, freeing his friend from the captivity. Gently, he pulled the limp body into his lap, loosening the mask’s hooks around his head.

The driver coughed. “будить“

Suddenly, the asset’s eyes shot open, his whole body going rigid, jumping to his feet.

His metal arm grabbed Steve by the throat, throwing him through the shattered window, unto the street. Without hesitation, he followed suit, moving fast, catlike, with determination towards his target.

Steve scrambled to his feet, heart racing painfully, head screaming.

The asset lunged at him, grabbing a loose piece of metal as weapon, slapping it down on it’s attacker.

He raised his arm, trying to block the incoming blow, feeling his skin break as the rod came down on him. Cap dodged the next attack, rolling backwards, trying to get distance between himself and the soldier.

“Bucky, please!” He shouted desperately, evading the incoming attacks.

The asset tore off the door from a parked car, throwing it after him, forcing him to dodge.

In the time it took him to refocus, it was on him again, pressing him into asphalt, metal hand wrapped around his throat.

“I’m... not ...doing this ...again.” He choked. “Bucky…”

The Winter Soldier’s eyes were empty and cold, glaring at him the way he had on the helicarrier.

Steve gasped as white hot pain shot through him, his hands grasping at the metal shard that now stuck out from his abdomen. He dropped to his knees.

The asset towered over him, metal gleaming in the dim light, his silhouette outlined against the fire and smoke.

Finish it . Steve begged. If I couldn’t save him then let this be it.

Pain choked the breath out of him, edges of his vision slowly growing darker.

The soldier kneeled, his metal hand wrapping around his throat, tight enough to hurt but not to choke him out.

Piercing grey-blue eyes stared at him, in a strange mixture of shock, terror and anger.

He’d seen that expression before. In the moments on the helicarrier before he’d fallen into the lake. And Bucky had jumped after him.

“Buck…” Steve croaked, raising his hand, gently cupping the other man’s face. The asset didn’t move.

His fingers curled around the long hair, eyes searching the soldier’s face for a spark of hope.

“I love you.” Steve whispered desperately, grief and regret washing over him. All the times he could’ve told him. Years and years and he never really said it.

The soldier’s eyes rolled upwards and he collapsed, falling into Steve’s arms.

Clint lowered his bow.

***

The smell was sharp and stung his nose. Sanitizer. Hospital?

He blinked against the white light.

White. Everything was white. It hurt his head.

Trying to blink away the blur on his eyes, Bucky looked around, pushing himself up from the ground where he was lying. He felt dizzy.

Slowly, the silhouettes pelled from the brightness, becoming clear shapes that he recognized.

The padded cell.

Hydra.

Code words.

Pain.

Bucky’s stomach dropped, icy fear creeping over his skin. His lungs felt tight, breath catching in his chest.

What have I done?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re safe.” A deep voice said softly. “Deep breaths.”

Sam stepped closer to the glass, watching Bucky carefully as he tried to calm the rising panic.

“How many?” He gasped.

“It’s okay. It’s taken care of.”

“How many?” Bucky said again, sounding angry.

Sam sighed. “Steve was the only one you hurt directly. All the injured civilians got hurt by debris or crashing cars.” He crossed his arms, cocking his head to the side. “You snapped out of it very quickly. That’s impressive, you know that?”

Buck pulled a face in disgust. “Impressive.” He spat. “I can’t be trusted, Sam. Not as long as this is in me.” He sat curled up on the ground, face pulled into a mask of pain. “I hurt Steve. I forgot who I was. It hurt so much.”

Sam nodded slowly, sitting down, cross-legged in front of him.  

“Do you remember what got you out of it this time?” He asked.

There was only screaming in his mind. Pain. Terror. The sharp sting as Barton’s arrow landed in his neck.

“The arrow.” He said, frowning.

The falcon shook his head. “No, no you stopped beating him up before that.”

Screaming.

Fear.

Steve.

“Buck…” Warm hand on his skin. Gentle touch. Such sad eyes. Protect. Don’t let him be sad. “I love you.”

He flinched. “...Steve?”

Of course, it was just like Steve Rogers to confess his love to the murderous assassin beating his face into a pulp.

Does he have a death wish.

“He said you recognized him. Like you did on the helicarrier.”

“After I hurt people. After I hurt him.”

“That’s not the point.” Sam said, his voice sounding more forceful now. He looked up at the ceiling, hand tapping against the safety glass. “Jarvis?”

The glass slid back. Bucky shuffled backwards, shaking his head.

Moving carefully, as though to soothe a frightened animal, Sam moved towards him, until he could reach out and touch him, hand gently touching the other man’s shoulder.

“Bucky,” He said quietly. “you’ve been through more shit than any of us here could possibly imagine. They tried to remove the human and make this body a machine. But you didn’t let them. To break through that like you did, twice, just by listening to the desperate words of one man, that’s hella impressive. That’s a good thing. It’s hope.”

Music. Dancing. Soft touches, forehead kisses, that ugly red sweater, multicoloured lights way up high above the city.

Steve.

Tears pooled in Bucky’s eyes, his throat burning as emotions rose up in his chest. He didn’t try to fight it. There’d been enough fighting already.

“Help me.” He whispered, his head leaning forward against Sam’s shoulder.

He was tired. So tired. Tired of being scared, of hurting people, of flinching at every loud noise and panicking in every crowd.

Just make it all go away. Please.

“We’re already working on it.” Sam said warmly. “Romanoff and Barton are chasing the guys that did this, Stark’s working on something to protect you from them, I’ll show you some more exercisements to calm your mind. Steve brought that up here while you were out of it.” He nodded towards the small table on the other side of the room, where the Hanukkhia was burning merrily, now with four candles lit. “He even said some prayers for you, with Jarvis’ help.”

Bucky made a choking sound, a mix between a sob and a laugh. He dropped back, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“Thank you.” He said hoarsely.

They did meditation exercises and shared a box of the brownies Sam had promised him until Stark arrived, arching his brow at the two soldiers.

“Sorry to interrupt your little tea party.” He said, crossing his arms. “If I’d have known this was going on, I’d have brought my best tiara.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side. “How would that fit on that big head of yours?”

“Careful, Sleeping Beauty, or I take my magic invention back into my castle and leave you to play patty cake with the bird man in here forever.”

Sam stuck his tongue out to him.

“Watcha got, tin man?” Bucky got to his feet, hands moving nervously at his sides as he tried to channel his anxiety.

Tony held up a small metal something, about the size of a fingernail.

“We originally started working on this for the Big Guy, but he rejected it. Hoping your own weird chemical wont spit it out as well.”

“So it’s an implant?”

“Of sorts.” He puffed out his chest. “Inside is the same stuff that Hawkeye shot you with a few times before, so we know it works quickly and effectively. We’ll put it under your skin and when the mechanism is triggered, it’ll release the sedative into your system.”

“How will it know when to put me down.”

Tony grinned. “So glad you asked!” He pulled a second tiny metal thing from his pocket. “This goes into your ear. Like a sexy earring, Cap will love it. has a tiny mic in it. Soon as you feel like something’s wrong, you say a safeword and it’ll tell the implant to go nuts.” He shrugged. “Not quite perfect yet but it’s a start.”

Bucky nodded slowly, eyeing the sparkling pieces in Stark’s palm.

“What if I can’t speak?”

“We’ll add further means of triggering it, by touch maybe, maybe if we knew some of the Hydra words we could make it recognize them… For now, I hope this can give you some peace of mind.”

At the last words, his voice dropped, gentle and quieter now, meeting Bucky’s gaze.

The other man nodded. “Thank you, Tony.”

The Iron Man nodded, padding Bucky’s shoulder. “Just come down to my workspace when you’re ready. I’m assuming you’d prepare that to the hospital wing?”

“I can leave?” Bucky asked. “But what about the cell-”

“That was a precaution, you’re awake now, havent murdered anyone. Right now you look as threatening as my grandma.” Tony arched his brow. “Besides, bird guy will keep an eye on you, won’t you?”

Sam rolled his eyes and nodded.

“See you kids around!” Stark saluted dramatically and turned on his heels.

***

Steve was already pacing Bucky’s apartment when he walked through the doors, the burning hanukkhia carefully balanced in his hands. The open fire was most likely the only thing keeping the giant super soldier from jumping him with a massive hug as soon as he saw him.

Instead, Steve bounced up and down on his feet, reciting a whole speech about how guilty he felt for not going to Brooklyn with him and that in no way should Buck ever blame himself for what happened.

“Thanks for taking care of this.” Bucky said, gently placing the hanukkiah back to the window.

Steve stopped mid-sentence and stared. “Uh, you’re welcome, Buck.”

“Do me a favour? Don’t make a big deal out of this. It’s enough to deal with without you fussing over me.” He smiled softly, reaching up to ruffle Steve’s hair. “Don’t frown at me, either, you punk.”

That was the moment Steve stopped holding back, pulling Bucky into a tight hug. He was warm and safe and smelled like home. Bucky buried his face in the nook of his neck, hands curling into the abnormally tight, thin fabric of Steve’s shirt.

“I’m sorry.” Steve said. “I just really don’t want to lose you again.”

Bucky raised his head. “You won’t.” He cupped Steve’s face with his right hand. “You saved me, Steve. Like you always do.”

“If I remember correctly, you were the one dragging me out of trouble.” He chuckled.

“Damn right, I rescued you from your own stupidity. But you were the one who saved me from being like my dad. Then you got me away from those sketchy alleys. Azzano. When the war got too much and I held the gun against my own head. Back on that helicarrier, now with that van… It’s always you.”

He let out a small laugh a realization once again washed over him, the simple truth that he had somehow managed to ignore for so long.

“I love you, Steve. I’m never leaving you.”

Eyes filled with emotion, Steve took Bucky’s hand, moving it to his lips to kiss each knuckle, before interlacing their fingers, holding his hand tightly.

When they were teenagers, every touch and every look had been almost painful, burning over his skin like a wildfire. Now, it just felt like home. Like there had never been a single moment in his life where Bucky hadn’t leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder, holding his hand, listening to the quiet breathing. He wished he could just melt into him.

“Tell me a story, Stevie.” Bucky whispered.

“What do you wanna hear?”
“Just anything.”

He could hear Steve’s heartbeat, calm and steady, slightly faster than a normal human’s heart would beat, even with the thrill of being this close.

It still felt strange, even after all these years, to hear his chest so quietly and healthy, and to feel his shoulders broad and powerful. It didn’t make much sense in his head.

“There’s this myth,” Steve said softly, “That humans used to walk the earth in pairs, grown together with two faces, four legs and arms, and so on. When they became too powerful, Zeus split them apart, leaving them lost, lonely, wounded, forever searching to find their other half.

It is believed that humans are inherently suffering, in need to find that missing part.”

He traced circles on Bucky’s back, running his fingertips over the thin fabric of his shirt.

“I’ve met many people who meant the world to me. I’ve found so many good friends. But you’re the only person who ever really made me feel complete.”

Bucky shifted, his head cocked to the side. “What about Carter?”

Steve smiled and huffed a small laugh. “I love her. I always will. She’s a part of me and nothing can ever change that. But, whatever this is,” his eyes glances at their hands, still interlaced tightly, “whatever it was before and whatever it will be in the future, you were always the one steady thing that just felt right.”

***

Stark’s workshop was just as overwhelming as it had been the first time, but it was certainly better than a hospital. At least the music was more bearable this time around.

Bucky sat on the plain metal chair he’d been given the last times around, not too comfortable but at least it didnt have any torture-and-brainwashing vibes.

Tony climbed out from a mess of machinery, covered in grime and dirt, beaming.

“You like it?” He asked proudly. “I call it the Hulk-Buster!” He padded the metal monster. “Should be able to put tall-green-and-handsome down within 5 minutes when it’s done.”

“You seem to worry a lot about the Hulk.” Bucky observed. He’d seen videos of the green thing wreaking havoc in New York, but he’d seemed to be enough in control to only target actual threats, working well alongside the other Avengers. Something about the creature must really scare Stark.

“Yeah, well, if I’m housing murderous, uncontrollable creatures in my own t- Pepper’s tower with my name on it, then I’d like to take certain precautions.” He clapped his hands. “Speaking of which, lets get to work!”

A small, white robot creature wheeled up to them, carrying a plate with shiny things.

Tony picked up what looked like a futuristic toy gun.

“Not gonna lie, it’s gonna hurt a bit.” He said softly.

Bucky nodded. “Don’t worry about it.” He moved his hair to the side, exposing his neck. “I’m guessing it’ll be most effective here?”

It was strange, having Stark this close to him, one hand gently holding his shoulder while the other held the gun thing against his skin.

The pain was nothing compared to what he’d previously suffered through, but it made him jump a bit nonetheless. Tony gave him a sympathetic look.

The earring-thing was less bad.

“While you’re here,” He said, handing his tools back to the robot, who zoomed off into the distance. “The people I’ve been in contact with for your arm will get here in a few days. They have a prototype they’d like to try.”

Bucky arched his brow, feeling a slight anxiety rise in his stomach. Operations on the arm meant hospital, hospital meant chair, chair meant pain, pain is bad, really bad, please don’t -

He shook his head violently, trying to clear his thoughts.

“It’s okay, there’s no pressure. We’ll find a way to not make it scary, okay?”

The reassuring tone in Stark’s voice reminded Bucky painfully of Howard, soothingly talking to the young soldiers who got equipped with his inventions for special missions. The desperate attempt to make the battlefield seem less terrifying. As if the Kraut’s cared about how well designed and durable their opponents weapons were when they were carried by boys who weren’t even old enough to drink.

“This will help other people, right?”

“And it will rid you of the physical trace Hydra left on you.”

There’d still be the map of scars all across his body to remind him of that, but getting rid of the horrible red star would be a start.

“Then I’ll do whatever it takes.” Bucky said determently.

“In the meantime…” Tony reached into his pockets, then pressed his palm against Bucky’s metal shoulder. “There you go!” He said proudly, revealing the smooth vinyl sticker of the Captain America shield that now covered the horrible red star.

Bucky laughed out loud.

Chapter Text

He’d expected to find Steve waiting for him in his apartment like the lost puppy that he was.

What he hadnt expected was the small man in the oversized sweater, nervously twisting his hands, looking like a teenager who got a bad grade at school.

“Uh, hello?” Bucky waved carefully from a safe distance.

The man jumped slightly and waved back. “Uh, yeah, hi, uh, my name is Bruce. Banner! Bruce Banner, I’m .. uh …”

“The scientist. Expert on the radiation thing, right?” Bucky said. “I’ve heard about you.”

Banner shrugged, still avoiding to meet the other man’s gaze. “That’s a nice way of saying I’m the madman with the green monster inside.”

Bucky chuckled, approaching the man with a warm smile. “Yeah, well, I kinda relate to the monster inside thing at the moment.” He moved behind the kitchen counter, searching through the cupboards. “I’ve actually been hoping we’d meet.”

“Really?” Bruce looked up, finally meeting his eyes. “Why?”

“You learned to control it, didn’t you? I saw the footage from New York, the big guy was on your side the whole time.”

“It’s… complicated.” The scientist said carefully. “I’m not sure if it’s… the same thing.”

Someone had restocked the spices. Perfect.

Bucky nodded slowly, gathering up his supplies.

“No, probably not. But still, I’d like to know how. Might help. If you feel comfortable talking about it.”

He stirred his cup and held it out to Banner, grinning.

“Drink? Mum’s old recipe.”

“Uh… thanks.” Bruce took the cup carefully, his eyes now focussed on the sticker that decorated the metal arm. “Tony sure has a sense of humour.” He took a sip and nodded approvingly.

“How did you know?”

“He made those stickers a few years back when Cap first moved into the tower. Covered everything in it. Tried to embarrass him with the whole patriot thing. He’d stick them on like, a tupper container, loudly declaring ‘for america!’ and that kinda thing.” He shook his head and sighed. “Really felt threatened by him being here, I think.”

“What did Steve do?” Bucky made himself another drink, jumping up to sit on the counter, legs dangling.

Banner chuckled. “He stole  a few of the sticker sheets and covered as much of the common room with it as he could. Everytime Tony touched something, Steve started a speech about justice and liberty.”

The man’s aura of anxiety slowly ebbed away as he got lost in conversation.

Seeing him like this, curled up in his kitchen, clutching a giant mug in his hands, Bucky couldnt help but think that he certainly looked nothing like a super genius richboy scientist, much less like an epic superhero.

Hydra had really given him a faulty briefing on the guy.

“So, what brings you here?” Bucky asked. “I kinda doubt Stark would send you as a babysitter.”

Bruce blushed, his hands twisting the sleeves of his shirt. “I heard about what happened and I thought-” He shrugged. “I just thought maybe you could use… someone to talk to?

“The Hulk has caused his fair share of damage. I’d always wake up much later with no memory of what happened and see all this destruction and I just wanted it all to end. So. If you. Need to talk….”

So they talked.

There were no cookies or muffins left to share, so Bucky dug up the chocolate coins Steve had brought him and shared it with the nervous scientist, listening to his stories about the many attempts of getting rid of the Hulk and finally, the process of learning to control him.

Bucky liked Banner. He was friendly and kind and something about his anxiousness and messy hair gave him the strong urge to protect him at all costs.

By the time Steve showed up, the sun had long set and the two of them were lounging in the kitchen, cleaning away the dinner leftovers.

“Ugh, I missed dinner, didn’t I?” He frowned. “Sorry I’m late, Tony needed… attention, mostly.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m not your housewife, Rogers, you don’t show up, we eat without you. Go make yourself a toast or something.”

“I was wondering,” Steve said, searching through the cupboards, “did you have anything special planned for the last night of Hanukkah? We used to go dancing, but I don’t think leaving the tower is such a good idea right now.”

Bucky blushed slightly, nervously twisting the dish towel in his hands. “I don’t really care… As long as, y’know… we’re together.”

Banner cleared his throat nervously. “Uhm, we could all do something together, if you like. The common room is more than big enough for a little dancing and it’s been a while since we all did something together that didn’t involve violence.” He shrugged. “Good for team morale and all that.”

“You really think they’d want to sing and dance with me after everything?” Bucky said darkly.

“Of course.” Steve took his hand, holding it tightly. “They’re all out there, working hard to help you, Buck.”

Bruce stared at their hands for a few seconds too long as realization visibly spread across his face.

“Steve’s our friend, that makes you part of the team.” He said, his face still trying to settle on a neutral expression.

“Ask Tony if it would be okay.” Bucky agreed, briefly leaning his head against Steve’s shoulder.

They finished cleaning up and Steve ate half of Bucky’s supplies for dinner.

Lounging in the living room, he told them about his day in Tony’s workshop, being pushed from one simulation to another as the inventor slapped various pieces of armour and weaponry on him.

Apparently, he was determined to upgrade the Captain America suit to something ‘less queer looking’ which seemed incredibly ironic to Bucky as he was half sitting on Steve’s lap, running his fingers over the soft skin on his wrist. He also knew Steve would never give up the general aesthetic of being a giant idiot target in a propaganda costume.

“So, what are you working on, Bruce?” Steve asked.

The scientist shifted awkwardly. “Uh, well, we… we are actually working on … Bucky’s brain? I’m collaborating with a team of highly skilled scientists.” He dug his fingers into a couch pillow. “We’re trying to find a way to remove the Asset from his mind, basically.”

Bucky looked up, coking his head to the side.

“So you think there’s more to the Asset than just psychological trauma?”

Bruce shrugged.

“We have our theories about that, yes. Human minds are incredibly fragile, they are very easy to break. The first decade or two of the Winter Soldier program relied simply on torture and conditioning, like a very cruel version of clicker training. But then they started using the chair. They would’ve had to find a way to delete certain, specific information while others remained intact, it’s a very complicated system. Our lead scientist seems to think there’s something actually, physically implanted somewhere in you that’s the essence of the Asset.”

“Does that mean you can cut open my brain and remove it?”

Bucky could feel Steve tense next to him. He interlaced their fingers, holding his hand tightly.
“Not exactly it but that’s the theory. We’d have to find a way to physically examine you without causing you any more harm. But trust me, these people know what they’re doing.”

“Any chance we can meet them?” Steve asked.

Banner shrugged, his hands still kneading the pillow.

“They work under highest secrecy, I can ask but I can’t make any promises. They’re also working with Tony on that arm of yours, they’re knowledge about the nervous system is incredibly advanced, if their ideas work out it could revolutionize prosthetic limbs.”

His face twisted into a pained expression. “I’m sorry if this too much, we don’t have to-”

“No, it’s fine. Talking about it helps, actually. Sam is the only one I ever really told about it. And even he doesn’t know it all. It’s not for my own sake, I just- I know it makes people mad. It hurts them. There’s no need to let even more people suffer from this.”

Steve especially. He thought darkly.

“You work a job like this, you get used to it.” Bruce said quietly, his eyes focused on something in the distance.. “It doesnt make it any less terrible, of course. But I learned to cope. So if you ever need someone to talk to…” He looked up again, smiling softly.

Bucky nodded. “Thank you, Bruce.” The air felt heavier around them now, steve’s tension especially made him nervous. With a sigh, he got to his feet and walked towards the record player that Pepper had sent for him before the incident in the city.

The music spread out between them, warm and familiar, cheerful.

Grinning playfully, Bucky offered Bruce his hand. “Do you dance, Dr. Banner?”

The scientist cast Steve a nervous glance. He shrugged.

“I haven’t really - not since High School, and it was never really-”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Bucky had him swooped up, dragging him into the open space between living room and kitchen.

Steve followed, already chuckling.

“I really dont know how to dance to this genre:” Bruce protested without taking his hand away from Bucky’s grip. He was blushing.

“Bucky doesn’t either and that never stopped him before!” Steve laughed, catching a playful punch to his ribs.

The room was soon filled with laughter again, as Bucky instructed Bruce with the basic steps he could remember, making him spin and swirl like a dame, while Steve clumsily tried to copy them.

It astounded him how a man with that much grace and determination in battle could look so clumsy and lost on the dance floor.

After a while, Bruce let go of Bucky’s grip and danced by himself, not quite matching the tact but his face lit up with such joy, nobody minded.

As so often before, Bucky couldn’t help but look at Steve.

Staring like an idiot.

Sometimes it was easy to forget the new Steve , to get so lost in the familiarity of his eyes and that crooked nose and that damn smile that he was back in their crappy Brooklyn apartment with the little guy who owned his heart.

Back then he hadn’t been allowed to think these thoughts. He’d thought them, he remembered that now, but he’d hated himself for it, done his best to push them aside and forget all about it.

Now… He kept replaying the same scenes in his head, the whispered words of affection, the gentle touch.

The kiss.

How could he ever be worthy of him?

Broken and dangerous as he was, it all seemed too good to be reality.

Steve noticed Bucky staring and reached out, pulling him close by the loops on his jeans, gently pressing his lips against Bucky’s forehead.

He melted into the touch, arms instinctively wrapping around his waist.

Home .

The world could burn around him and he wouldn’t care, as long as he could just remain right here.

Behind them, Bruce chuckled. “I think I, uhm, I’ll go to bed now. Thanks a lot, I had a great time!” With a lazy salute and an amused grin, he backed out into the elevator.

“He’s sweet.” Bucky said. “Very kind.”

“I’m glad you’re getting along with everyone. These people are my family now, I guess. They could be yours, too.” Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s long hair, twisting the strands around his finger. “I still can’t believe this is actually real.”

Bucky felt his heartbeat speed up, skin tingling. “Yeah, me too.” He whispered. “It all seems to be a bit too good to be true.” He raised his hand, gently running his fingertips along Steve’s jaw before cupping his face in his palm to kiss him. His stomach fluttered.

Steve leaned into the kiss, one hand buried in a mess of long hair, the other curled around Bucky’s lower back,. He felt like he was floating, lost in time and space.

A sudden heat washed over them, their movements quickening as their hearts raced in their chests. The underlying tension of the past days broke away, any doubts or worries forgotten.

Catching his breath, Bucky pulled away, laughing softly. His head felt light, adrenaline rushing through his veins in a way that was so much warmer and sweeter than he’d ever felt it before.

Deciding to stop being afraid of his feelings once and for all, he curled his fingers around the front of Steve’s way-too-tight shirt and gently guided him towards the bedroom.

***

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Bucky.

Steve never wanted to wake up any other way.

Buck was curled up, face half hidden behind the strands of hair falling over his face. The metal of his arm shone almost gold in the soft light.

He’d kissed the map of scars around the shoulder, again and again. The arm, the scars, the long hair, it was all part of this new man that Bucky had become and despite all the pain it had caused them both, they were here together now and that was all that mattered.

Steve stared, trying to take in every detail, like he was mapping out a painting in his head. The soft curve of his shoulders, the different shades of brown in his hair, the smooth lips and the contrast of cold, hard metal against warm, soft skin. He was beautiful.

Over the years, Steve had drawn and painted Bucky many times, he knew the shapes and details of his features. But he’d never brought him to paper like this, naked and vulnerable, gentle and soft. None of the cheekiness, the somewhat faked confidence of his teens or the harshness he’d had during the war.

When he felt like this moment was forever imprinted in his memory, Steve couldn’t resist any longer and leaned forward, pressing his body back against Bucky’s pulling him close.

Bucky mumbled something and placed a lazy kiss on Steve’s neck.

Overwhelming warmth and affection spread through him, aware of every inch of his skin touching Bucky’s, the familiarity of his smell and his voice, the new excitement of their night together.

After all these years of just stumbling through a frightening new world, Steve had finally come home.

***

Steve sat on the soft carpet, paints spread out around him, lost in his work.

He didn’t notice Bucky until the cold metal hand gently touched his jaw and he felt warm lips on his forehead.

“How long have you been up?” Buck asked softly, voice still hoarse from sleep.

“An hour. Tried to wake you but you kept falling asleep again.”

Steve cleaned his brush in the water glass and put it aside, moving to stand up.

“No, stay, it’s fine. I’ll watch.” Bucky sat cross legged on the floor. “Like old times.”

He glanced at the canvas, cocking his head to the side like a puppy. There wasn’t much to see yet, just rough sketches and a basic colour scheme for the lights and shadows. When they’d shared an apartment in Brooklyn, Steve would sometimes draw or paint and have Bucky guess what it was. Sometimes that caused him to change direction in the middle of the process, trying to make it as difficult as possible for him to guess right.

Bucky watched quietly as Steve turned back to the canvas, the room completely quiet except for the soft scratching of brushes.

Normally, Steve felt nervous and uncomfortable with people watching him. Even with all the press-training, the stage shows, the interviews and ridiculous PSA videos, it still made him anxious to be the center of attention.

But Bucky didn’t feel like people. He didn’t feel like foreign object in his own comfort zone, the way many people did, no matter how much Steve liked them.

Bucky was just there. Like a part of him. If anything, he made him feel more complete.

They sat for an hour, lost in thought, enjoying the peacefulness of the scene.

“You’re such a hopeless romantic.” Buck said into the quiet, smiling warmly.

Steve blushed, leaning back from the easel to take in the progress. Slowly, the shapes were coming together, forming the soft silhouette of a body, the first shadows in the face, the messy strands of hair spread out on a soft surface.

“I don’t know what you mean, this is barely recognizable.”

“It’s either me or Jesus, Steve, and I hope for your own sanity that you’re not working on a slightly kinky Jesus fanart.”

Steve laughed and shook his head, putting his brush down on the canvas again.

More time passed before Bucky spoke again.

“You ever wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“This. You and me. Us.” Bucky shifted nervously, his hands digging into the fuzzy carpet. “It’s probably stupid, I just… I don’t like guessing. Hoping. Wondering. My mind’s not - I would just like to have certainty. About what’s going on.” The metal arm left traces on the ground.

Steve took a deep breath, suddenly feeling an odd sensation in his stomach, which made no sense at all. He knew how Bucky felt about him. Didn’t he? They’d known each other all their lives, they could talk about anything. Why was this so hard?

He turned to face Buck, nodding thoughtfully.

“I meant what I said, Buck.” He said carefully, feeling a shiver run down his spine. “I love you.” Steve swallowed hard, willing the nervous knot in his stomach to go away. “I can’t really explain… why and how and since when but…. I am hopelessly in love with you.” Now he was destroying the poor carpet as well, poking into the fluff with the handle of his paintbrush. “And I want to be with you. If that’s what you want, too.”

Bucky beamed at him, his smile washing away all tension. “That’s all I ever wanted since we were teenagers, actually.”

“Really?” Steve asked softly. He remembered the double dates, the girls, the flirting. He’d always known Bucky cared for him, of course, but ever since the first stubble on his chin had shown, the man had been surrounded by women, worshipping their every move, showering them with attention.

“I tried to fight it for a very long time.” Bucky said softly. “Then I died and came back. Twice. Puts things in perspective.” He shrugged. “Told ya on the ferris wheel, it’s always been you.”

His shoulders relaxed, hands resting calmly in his lap as if the confession had washed all tension from his body.

“So,” Steve opened his arms in a dramatic gesture. “how would you like being Captain America’s official boyfriend?”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “Hell no. The little guy from Brooklyn who thinks he can save the world from itself. I’ll be his boyfriend.” He grinned mischievously. “You can keep the outfit though.”

He pounced at Steve like a cat tackling it’s prey, pinning him to the ground.

“Nerd.” Steve laughed hoarsely, freeing his arms to pull Bucky into a long kiss. His heart had finally stopped racing, trust and affection slowly spreading through him. After all this time, the world seemed to finally fall into place.

Their embrace was broken by Jarvis’ voice. “My apologies for interrupting what seems like a very tender moment, but Mr Stark urgently requests your presence in the Headquarters. Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton have returned from their mission.”

***

Bucky kept close to Steve’s side, nervously eyeing the room as they walked through the high security doors. The headquarters were a large room filled with displays, large screens and holograms, the tinted windows offered very little natural light, so the room was alive with blues and yellows of the high-tech equipment. Barton and Romanoff were sitting at the table in the center, greeting them with a lazy salute, while Tony stood in front of a larger Hologram, arms crossed, his face twisted in a mix of amusement and worry.

“Ah, the lovebirds have finally stopped making out long enough to grace us with their presence..” Tony called out. “If I’m not invited to the wedding, I’ll take back every piece of tech I’ve ever given you.”

Steve blushed. “I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t spy on us, Tony.”

Stark’s eyes widened in surprise. “Uh, first of all, I was joking, second of all, I am appalled you’d think my AI’s privacy setting would be that weak.” His eyes darted back and forth between them as Steve blushed even darker. “Well, congratulations on your creepy grandpa romance.” He clapped his hands together, turning back to face the screen. “While you two were making up for 90 years in the closet, the rest of us were doing our jobs and hunted down the bad guys.”

Natalia winked at Bucky with a mischievous smile, before snapping back into professional mode and pointing her pen at the screen.

“We followed a money trail back to Germany. When Shield fell it brought down Hydra with it, all official bank accounts were published and frozen shut, but they had emergency stashes, safe houses, accounts in foreign countries, that kinda thing. The group we encountered at Brooklyn Bridge were trying to get access to any resources they could get so they could regroup, a kind of emergency plan. That included getting their hands on the Winter Soldier.”

“Their most powerful weapon.” Bucky said. “But how did they know I’d be there? I’ve been hiding out here ever since the helicarrier.”

“Social Media.” Tony said, a series of tweets popping up behind him. “People recognized you on the streets and started sharing it.”

>> saw this guy stalking through the streets and he looks like the creepy assassin from a few ago??? New York is wild, man <<

>> Remember the Hydra Assassin? This is him now. Feel old yet? <<

>> am I going crazy or does this dude look Captain America’s lost boyfriend?? #timetravelIsReal <<

>> Ok so my friend saw this guy and said he said familiar and so I checked the pictures from the Smithsonian and he looks like Sergeant Barnes? America Explain. <<

“One of the safehouses in the area had access to various security cameras and a software for facial recognition.” Clint said. “Their only big mistake was assuming you were still just a criminal on the run. They were so eager to get their best asset back, they didn’t stop to think how you’d evaded capture until now.”

Nat shook his head. “They were quite messy altogether. After we stopped them, those who remained tried to back out and regroup overseas. In their panic, they left a pretty clear trace. We found more hideouts, safehouses, bank accounts and ended up uncovering a pretty large base at the border to the Netherlands,.”

Pictures popped up on screen, the outside of what looked like a worn-down farm.

Something about it made Bucky feel tense.

“They weren’t expecting us but they were prepared enough to take down a few of our team. No deaths but a few were severely injured.” Romanoff went on. “Unfortunately, we didn’t take many prisoners either and most of those we did chain up used their cyanide before we could prevent it. I’m not sure how much will come from them.”

The next picture was on the inside, traces of battle fresh on the blood-spattered floor, equipment scattered across the room. Some of it was new, modern laptops, speakers, screens, a couple of weapons. Other things were old, rusty, covered in dust.

Bucky could feel the others watching him.

“I was there.” He said calmly. An icy chill lay on him. It felt like remembering a nightmare from long ago. “There were some recruits they wanted me to train.”

Natalia nodded. “That’s why we wanted you here. We found files on the Winter Soldier that we suspect could have in depth information about the programming. It’s encrypted, of course, it might take a while to figure out the code to actually read it, but this could help us help you.”

Her voice was warm and kind. He felt another surge of that strange protectiveness for her, wondering again what exactly their relationship when they’d been on missions much later in the Winter Soldier’s career.

“I’m afraid I won’t be of much use. If I would ever get a certain code to encrypt messages, they’d wipe me even more thoroughly to make sure I forgot. Only thing I remember from the actual programming of the Asset is a nice array of torture. Dehumanization, mostly.”

Bucky felt his chest tighten, he curled his hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

“Tony said they might’ve planted something into my head as well.”

Steve put his hand on his arm, the touch grounding him at least a bit.

“You don’t have to talk about it. We have a good team, we can figure it out ourselves.”

“Our specialists will arrive at the tower soon.” Tony said. “They’ll take a look at that arm and see if they can find anything in your brain.” His expression was unusually soft. “We can wait until after your celebrations though, Bruce told me you guys are still doing the Hanukkah thing.”

“Thank you, Tony.” Bucky felt slightly moved by how much people seemed to care about the random stranger that tried to murder their friend on multiple occasions. “All of you, really.”

“You’re family now, Barnes, there’s no way out anymore.” Clint chuckled.

They went on discussing strategies, throwing up bank accounts and addresses. The team had managed to tear apart most of the Hydra leftovers, definitely made it hard for them to regroup, and various national securities all around the world had been warned to keep an eye open.

It didn’t look like there was much work left for the elite team of Superheroes, other than try to keep Bucky from turning into a murderous weapon.

***

“You okay?” Steve asked softly as he led Bucky back to his apartment.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He answered.

Steve arched his brow at him. “Are you sure? It’s okay if you’re not, you know, we can always ask Sam-”

“I am feeling absolutely fine, Steve.” Bucky rolled his eyes at him.

He didn’t even know why he was so irritated.

He’d expected to be at least stressed out, if not completely triggered by the conversations that had followed the strategic planning.

Natalia and Barton had asked him a lot about what he could remember from his time with Hydra. They’d all fussed about him, kept asking if he felt fine, told him it wasn’t absolutely necessary.

But his knowledge might help them and he’d felt fine. He still did. Maybe the need to be useful to others had pushed aside the panic he usually felt thinking about the Red Room and the chair.

For now, Bucky just felt empty. And tired.

Even though Steve didn’t ask a third time, his face was shadowed with worry all night, watching Bucky’s every step as if he worried he might have a breakdown any second.

The only way Bucky could stop him from turning into a second shadow was by pressing the brushes into his hands, encouraging him to continue his painting while Bucky made dinner.

The mood lightened after that.

Steve’s painting was almost done, the subject now clearly recognizable, every last detail of Bucky’s face and body captured on the canvas. Every brush stroke spoke of affection. Seeing it filled him with warmth, any thoughts about the meeting forgotten.

They lit the candle, singing and praying, each following his own routine like they’d learned when they were kids.

When they curled up in bed that night, limbs entangled, foreheads touching, it truly felt like home.

***

A few hours later, Bucky woke, screaming.

In the first moments of shock, tearing himself out of the drowsiness of sleep, Steve reached out instinctively, hands grabbing at his shoulders.

The Winter Soldier growled, dodging the outstretched hands, cowering into a combat position.

His eyes were cold and empty, face twisted in a mix between pain and anger.

Before Steve could even process what was happening, the metal fingers had wrapped around his throat and the Soldier leapt, crashing both of them into the ground.

Pain shot through Steve’s body, clearing his head.

As his thoughts cleared, he forced himself to relax and let his body go limp under the assassin’s grasp.

“It’s okay Buck, it’s okay, I’m here.” He choked, trying to make his voice as soft and calm as possible, even as adrenaline rushed through his veins, every cell in his body willing him to fight back.

“It’s alright. Bucky. I love you so much. It’s okay.”

The words went through Bucky like an electric shock.

Gasping, he jumped back, curling up on the ground, his hands clawing on his own skin. The nails on his human hand left red streaks.

The blood shot back into Steve’s head as he caught his breath, his heart racing, chest tight with worry.

“Buck?”

The expression on Bucky’s face had changed, the coldness gone from the eyes that now darted back and forth, trying to find focus.

“Can’t. Breathe. Walls. I. Can’t. Can’t. See.”

Steve had seen him like this before, during the war. Whenever the day had been particularly bad, Bucky had become distanced and detached, ignoring his own feelings for as long as he could. Until he couldn’t anymore.

Slowly, Steve approached, his body curled to make it look as small as possible.

He gently picked up Bucky’s shaking body and carried him out the bedroom, onto the balcony, placing him back on the cool ground.

The city was alive around them, but so high up it still felt distanced, nothing but glittering lights and soft rumbling noise.

“Remember what Sam taught you? The exercises?”

He ran his hand up and down Bucky’s spine, the rest of his body far away to give him space to breathe.

They sat for a while until Bucky’s breathing slowed gradually and the tension went from his body, making him slump against Steve’s shoulder, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,...” He whispered hoarsely. “I hurt you, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay, Bucky. I heal fast, remember.” Steve said softly, taking Bucky’s face into his hands to wipe away the tears, kissing his forehead. “It’s okay.” He said again. “Don’t apologize.”

Another few minutes passed, the cold of the night sinking into their tired bones, cooling their minds, their heartbeats steadying in the soft breeze.

“Stars.” Bucky broke the silence, his voice almost clear again. “I used to love stars.”

“We went out on the rooftop a lot.” Steve murmured. “You got an astronomy book for your 12th birthday and we spent the whole night trying to read the stars. Later in the war it was the best way to calm you. Whenever you had a nightmare, we’d find you outside, staring at the sky. Dougan said you were waiting for them to take you home.”

“I wouldn’t have let them.” Bucky shook his head. “Not without you.”

“Do you really still believe?” Steve asked. “In anything at all.”

Bucky thought for a moment. He took Steve’s hand in his, inspecting the long fingers, running his thumb over the battle-roughened skin.

“Didn’t believe in anything while they had me.” He said quietly.

“Didn’t have the mental capacity to.  But now… It’s difficult sometimes. But everything that happened, that was all human cruelty. No godly will, no curse, no mystical forces, just humans,.”

He shrugged. “S’pose I could lose faith in humanity. Sometimes I do. But then there’s always people who are just … good.”

Bucky turned to look at Steve, a soft smile on his lips.

“People like you. Like Sam, Nat, Bruce, even Stark’s kid.. People who’d risk their life to save one person, helping a complete stranger. Who show so much kindness and generosity.

If all else fails me that’s what I can always believe in.”

He leaned forward, placing a careful kiss on Steve’s cheek.

Steve wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close against his chest. His heartbeat echoed through Bucky’s body, the heat of his skin warming him from the chilly night.

Looking up, he could see the deep purple bruises covering Steve’s throat where the metal hand had clutched him in his blind panic. It made his stomach feel heavy.

Carefully, Bucky reached out, his fingertips gently tracing the pattern on the damaged skin.

“I’m so sorry.” He said hoarsely, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He was. Now all the damage he’d done was more visible than it had been since the helicarrier.

“Don’t.” Steve answered, pressing his lips into Bucky’s hair. “None of this was your choice.”

“I’m so tired of hurting people. Being broken.”

“We’re all broken here.”

The soft rumbling in Steve’s chest when he spoke was soothing,. Bucky closed his eyes.

“Natasha still wakes from nightmares, screaming in russian. Clint can’t stand fireworks. Bruce can’t deal with crowds at all. Tony needs constant supervision around alcohol … I lost count of how many times I completely broke down from … everything. We’re a beautiful collection of broken people.”

“And yet you keep fighting, For others.”

“No one else will.”

They stayed tangled up in the cold winter night, watching the sleepless city, until Steve felt Bucky’s breathing slow down and his muscles relax.

Trying hard not to wake him, Steve took him in his arms and brought them both back inside.

***

Every muscle in Bucky’s body felt stiff and sore as he woke up the next morning.

His limbs were tangled up in two blankets, hair sticking to his face and neck. A dull pain throbbed in his stomach as he remembered the night.

The other half of his bed was empty but the muffled sounds from the kitchen told him Steve wasn’t far away.

Still feeling slightly shaken, Bucky padded into the bathroom, letting the hot water loosen his shoulders. He could hear Steve singing outside, something that sounded modern and new, much faster and louder than the music of their youth.

Apparently, almost getting choked to death by Hydra’s most dangerous assassin did little to spoil Captain America’s morning. There is a thin line between bravery and stupidity and Steve Rogers loved to blur it.

Feeling a little more like a person, Bucky joined him in the kitchen a few minutes later.

The painting was finished, placed proudly on the table, Steve’s neat signature in the corner.

It looked alive, like warm skin on soft sheets, morning sunshine and whispered words of affection.

“I was hoping you’d stay in bed a little longer.” Steve said, pointing to the stack of pancakes on the counter. “Breakfast in bed and all that.” He blushed. “I’ve been told it’s romantic…”

Bucky chuckled, pulling him close. “I’m not a fancy dame that has to be courted.”

“Well, you already slept with me, so-”

“Are you calling me easy, Captain Rogers?” Bucky leaned closer, their foreheads almost touching.

“Why, Sergeant Barnes, I’d never!” Steve said hoarsely, his eyes wandering from Bucky’s down to his lips. The air felt electric, skin almost touching, heat radiating from their bodies.

Twisting like a cat , Bucky tore out of the embrace with a playful grin.

“Well, then you’d better bring me my breakfast, punk!”

It was mid-day when Pepper came to visit.

She was dressed in another expensive looking suit, hair pulled back in a strict ponytail, her eyes looked tired but she was smiling kindly as always.

“Hey, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you around. Everything okay?” Steve said, putting aside the book he’d been reading.

His catching-up-to-pop-culture-list was still very long and Bucky had been surprisingly upset that he’d never gotten around to reading kids books about wizard schools. ( What were you even doing with your life for all these years, Steve? - No saving the world is not an excuse!)

“Yes, I’m alright, don’t worry. Just a bit tired, holiday season is always a bit stressful.”

“Especially when you have murderous assassins trying to kill your best soldiers.” Bucky grinned. “I owe you about a hundred cookies.”

Pepper smiled warmly and nodded. “Oh I fully expect to be invited to that hanukkah dinner that Bruce told me about!”

She cleared her throat and straightened her back, snapping back into her official-business-pose.

“As much as I love talking to you guys, I am actually here on business, kind of. The people Tony and Bruce have been working with are here. They want to take a look at you.”

Steve sat up straight, his hand protectively resting on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Jarvis informed me you two had a rough night, so if you aren’t feeling well, we can always reschedule. I can assure you this team is highly professional and one hundred percent trustworthy.”

Bucky nodded, getting to his feet. “I want to meet them.”

“Are you sure, Buck? You barely slept last night.”

“I’ve gotten more restful sleep the past weeks than I have in 70 years, Steve, I am fine.”

Steve frowned, crossing his arms like an annoyed kid. “Fine, but I’ll come with you.”

Pepper led them down to the hospital wing, giving them the basic briefing.

“I must ask you to keep all of this a secret. This collaboration and it’s scientific advancement cannot be public until the time is right.” Her voice had an edge of annoyance. “Some political complications that we’ll take care of when the time comes.”

Indeed, the floor was closed off with even more security than Bucky had seen even around the Iron Man armours.

When they’d finally made it through various checks, the main doors slid open, revealing the newcomer’s workstation. Just like Tony’s workshop, the floor was filled with robotics and holograms, tools and screens, only these looked smoother, almost alien. Bucky felt as if he’d walked into an old sci-fi movie.

“They made themselves right at home.” Pepper said, equally impressed and concerned by the amount of foreign tech in her building. “Tony has been trying to subtly take notes ever since they arrived, but to be honest I don’t think even he understand of what’s going on.”

As if to underline her statement, one of the people in white coats passed by, casually talking to a hologram head that elegantly floated next to them.

Bucky found it hard to contain his excitement. His eyes darted around the floor, eyes shining. Being in Stark’s workshop had been exciting enough, though the shadow of a) being a test subject and b) being the guy who murdered the man’s  parents had dampened the experience.

This was everything he had ever dreamed of as a kid.

“This is amazing… It’s like a fucking comic book! I bet they have flying cars and miniature robots that fix lethal wounds within hours!” He nudged Steve, unsatisfied with the lack of excitement in his eyes.

“We do, actually.”

Said a girl, no older than 16, headphones dangling over her shoulders.

“Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers.” She bowed her head. “It is such an honour to finally meet you. My name is Shuri, I am the head scientist of this team.”

They shook hands, Pepper gave them one last kind smile and shuffled of to her other duties, leaving the men to follow Shuri through the maze of blinking lights.

“Do you actually have mini robots?” Bucky asked.

The girl laughed. “We are working on them, yes. Nanobot technology has been in development for quite a while, I know Mr Stark has been toying around with the concept as well. We were able to save a wounded soldier from a deep bulletwound.” She beamed with pride. “My current project is building entire armour from nanobots.”

“Like the Iron Man suit? But from tiny robots? Would that be stable?”

“With vibranium, yes. In fact, it would give the suit more stability than a solid one-piece armour plate.”

She led them to a workstation where multiple displays and holograms already showed them brain scans and cryptic looking codes.

Tony was inspecting a 3D model of Bucky’s current arm. He gave a dramatic salute, then joined them, smiling proudly.

“Capsicle, Murder Robot, are you ready to have your minds blown? Because, we made some pretty awesome things. I would try to explain it to you but I’m sure the sheer intelligence of our inventions would melt your brain cells.”

Shuri giggled and rolled his eyes. “He’s exaggerating. All we did is combine Mr Stark’s mechanical skill from the Iron Man suits with Wakanda’s knowledge in neuroscience.” She pulled up another 3D model from a beaded bracelet on her wrist. “It is much lighter than your current arm, more mobile, with artificial nerves not only sensing heat and pressure, but also soft touch and texture. Everything is built from pure vibranium, so it should be almost indestructible.” She spun the model around, showing a series if pulsing lines that went from the artificial shoulder into the model of a human body. “Of course, we also found a way to attach it securely to the body without causing any pain or damage. Your current prosthetic must be excruciating.”

Steve’s eyes widened, his face immediately shadowed with worry and anger. “The arm is painful?”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, moving his shoulder. Paying close attention to it, he could feel the pulsing pain on his spine and shoulder blades. “Huh, guess I got used to it.”

The scientist let out a sad sigh. “Well, we will make sure to relieve you of it.”

She led them to a small room, where the noise of machinery and murmuring workers was muffled by the soft carpet and the cozy looking sofas. Tony dropped on one of the couches, lazily spinning his hologram around.

Shuri continued. “We figured this would be the least stressful place for the examinations. No hospital vibes or scary chairs. We will still have to give you an IV to keep you unconscious while we operate, though.”

Bucky nodded. “That’s okay. Thank you.”

“Thank you for giving us this opportunity. Once it is completely refined, it can give a lot of people their lives back.”

“Speaking of…” Steve said curiously. “Pepper said this whole operation has to be kept a secret?”

Shuri nodded, frowning slightly. “My father does not think Wakanda should share it’s resources and advancements with others. He is worried if people find out what we can do, it will do damage to our country. It is only thanks to my brother’s persuasion and some rule-bending that I was able to collaborate with Stark Industries at all.”

“Wakanda? Your people made my shield?” Steve said softly.

The girl laughed and nodded. “My grandfather was very eager to work with Mr Stark Sr, he was a great fan of his work. That is how T’Challa managed to convince father of this.”

“You can imagine my shock when I dug up dad’s secretest of secret files and find a 16 year old african girl who can cure a gunshot wound within a few hours.”

Tony brought up.

“Thought it was a joke but the thing about Cap’s shield bothered me, too, so I dug through some Shield files and managed to find a way of contacting them in their high-security jungle.”

He puffed out his chest.

“I am the Sherlock Holmes of superheroes!”  

Shuri smirked. “I am pretty sure Sherlock Holmes was gay and asexual, but you do you, Mr Stark.”

Tony rolled his eyes and mouthed something that looked suspiciously like teenagers .

“I can see why your father is worried about the safety of your people.” Steve said thoughtfully. “That shield alone is worth more than anyone could ever pay in money, I can’t imagine what value a fully functioning prosthetic limb would have.”

The scientist shook her head. “Their financial worth does not matter, it is what we have to offer people, the quality of life we could share with them. This is not a time to let fear rule our hearts, Captain. Dark times like these, we must all learn to work together, to live as one, regardless of what makes us different.”

“That’s a lot of wisdom for someone so young.” Bucky said softly. The girl wa growing on him already. Something about her gentle but playful attitude reminded him of his sister.

“I should inform you that neither my age nor my gender in any way affect my intellect.” Shuri said with a playful grin.

Bucky raised his hands. “Oh I didn’t mean it like that!” He laughed. “I’m a gay jewish ex-assassin who grew up in the 1920s, there’s no way I should make any assumptions about people.”

A wave of shock rippled through him as he realized what he’d said. He felt the blood rush into his face.

Tony struggled to keep the balance on the couch, trying not to stare.

Steve looked at him in surprise, his head tilting with curiosity.

Well, he said it. Almost a hundred years. And it felt… liberating.

Shuri giggled and nodded as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Oh I think we’ll get along fine, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Please, call me Bucky.” He smiled.

***

Tony left them in alone in the room, most likely trying to figure out if sudden coming-outs were part of the confidentiality clause.

The wakandan team were careful and steady, scanning Bucky’s brain waves while Steve held his hand, watching him closely.

Shuri scribbled actively in her little notebook as they tested his reaction to words and images, trying their best not to stress him too much.

They said two of the Winter Soldier codewords, which required a one-hour break for Bucky to calm down enough to continue. But he was determined. Eager to get rid of whatever they’d planted inside his head, to be able to leave the house without worrying about killing innocent people.

When they’d gathered enough data, his head felt heavy and his chest hurt.

“We can move the surgery to another day.” Shuri said softly. “There is no reason to rush this.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just a needle.” Bucky assured her, already bearing his human arm. “I just want this nightmare to end.” He glanced at Steve’s neck where the faint imprint of his hands were still visible on the soft skin.

The scientist smiled sadly. “I’m afraid we cannot take it all away completely. The arm, yes. The asset, once we analyzed the data from today we might. But the trauma, the damage to your mind…”

“I know.” He said softly. “But it’s a start. A chance to start healing.”

They’d been in contact with Sam, leaving out the details but briefing him on the tests as well as Bucky’s attack the night before. He was on his way to New York now, both to check on him and to get a chance to join the feast that Bruce had apparently ended up promising everyone in Bucky’s name.

It still warmed his heart every time to see how all these people he’d barely known for more than a few weeks were so kind, always there when he needed him, even when he didn’t know that he did.

Even after all that happened, there were always these few people that still gave him hope.

***

Steve paced the hallways nervously, glancing at his watch every few minutes.

Time passed painfully slow.

There was no reason to worry, he knew that. The wakandan team was the most exceptional group of scientist he’d ever seen, making Bruce and Tony look like rookie high school students.

He also knew it must’ve cost the Iron man a lot to swallow his pride and work with people who were undoubtedly more advanced than he liked to admit.

The man was full of surprises, Steve thought. He felt a strange wave of affection for Howard’s son. It took a great man to drop his ego to help the man who killed his parents, brainwash or not.

“Can’t you drink a hot chocolate or take a nap or something?” Tony called from the couch-room. “You are making me nervous prowling around like a caged panther. No wait, too elegant, maybe more of a … frustrated kitten.”

With a sigh, Steve left his post and dropped into an armchair, burying his face in his hands.

“Sorry. I know, it’s silly.” He ran his hands through his hair. “He just… He looked so fragile this morning. I don’t know if this was a good idea. He’s not in a good place.”

“None of us are ever really in a good place.” Tony answered. “We’re like the most luxurious mental asylum sometimes.”

There was a moment of silence, only the ticking of Steve’s watch, each second making him feel more tense.

“Thank you, Tony.” He said at last. “All of this…” He gestured to the machinery outside. “You put a lot of work into this.”

“Ah well, I uhm…” He shrugged. “It caused a lot of pain, this company. I’m still trying to make up for that by healing and helping instead of killing. Doesn’t bring back the lives that were lost, but y’know … ” His eyes focused on the city outside the window, a soft shadow of sadness on his face. “That’s the difference between him and me, you know. When I found out who he was, I was so angry. I wanted to kill him. But then I saw the rest of the files. What they did. He had no choice. He was barely still a person.” He swallowed hard. “But I did. I was. I knew what I was doing, I was fully aware that these weapons were out there, costing somebody’s life. Came up with the prettiest excuses why it was okay. But I knew it was wrong and I still did it.”

“Tony…” Steve felt the need to reach out and touch him but he held back, unsure how comfortable the other man felt around him. “You are a good man. A great man. You’re kind, brave, honest. It is an honour to be your friend.”

“Careful Cap,” Tony grinned. “cheesy speeches like that you might make tall, dark and murderous jealous.” His voice had regained his usual sass but his eyes betrayed his feelings.

Steve decided to let it go.

“I’d be more afraid of Pepper.” He chuckled.

“So you guys are a thing now?” Stark asked, trying hard not to show his curiosity. “Not that it’s any of my business or that there’s anything wrong with it, y’know, just uh making conversation happen.”

“Yeah I think we are. I mean, I know we are, we talked about that. It’s just … strange. After all these years. Calling him my boyfriend.” The words send an off quiver through him. Boyfriend .

He didn’t know if it was the fact that he was dating his best friend or simply that the only relationship he’d ever been in was the clumsy love affair with Peggy that ended with him taking a 70 year long nap.

“Well, uh, I’m happy for you.” Tony said, awkwardly padding Steve’s shoulder. “You’ve been sad and lonely for so long it kinda ruined the fun in insulting you, now I can finally call you out for being old without feeling bad about it!”

Steve smirked, pulling him into a hug. “You know I love you too, Tony.” The other man went still for a few seconds before frantically waving his arms, struggling to free himself from the super soldier’s embrace. “Jesus Christ, Steve, this lovey-dovey relationship stuff is really not good for you.”

He tore himself free at last, face flushed and hair ruffled. He tried to frown but his eyes betrayed him.

“You just called me by my first name.” Steve grinned proudly.

“I am too sober for this!” Tony whined, fleeing from the room, trying to fight the smile on his face.

Shuri arrived shortly after, letting Steve enter the recovery room which was just a very neat and clean bedroom. Bucky was still asleep, his left shoulder wrapped in bandages where the new arm had been attached.

“The design is beautiful.” Steve murmured, running his fingertips over the smooth vibranium.

“Thought some warmer tones would make it look less scary.” Shuri said softly. “We’ll have to calibrate it once he wakes but it should work much better than the old one already.”

“What about the other thing?”

The scientist held out her wrist, pulling another hologram from the beads. It showed a microchip, pulsing small waves of energy. “This is implanted in his brain.” She said, a soft echo of sadness in her voice. “We can remove it but the surgery would be intense. it can wait til after your celebrations.” The hologram expanded, revealing a model of a human brain, the odd waves from the chip running through it. “The code words themselves are mostly psychological. He was trained to expect immense pain when he hears them, so his mind tries to block the parts of him that are human enough to fear them. The chip is activated by immense stress. It sends these small shocks to the right places of his brain, it sort of multiplies the effect. Turns off all the independent thought, the emotions, the memories that are connected with emotions. That chair you talked about would’ve charged the chip with energy, frying his brain until only the most basic instincts are left. A perfectly programmed machine.” Her voice was dripping with anger and grief. She snapped the hologram shut. “We were able to disable it with the right frequency, but we won't be able to get it out without major surgery.”

Steve rested his hand on her small shoulder. “Thank you, Shuri.”

“He’s happy now though, isnt he?” She said quitely. “With you.”

He nodded, smiling softly. “I think so, yeah. It’ll take time to heal,for both of us. But we got all these amazing people around us. It’ll be okay again.

“Pretty sure you’re invited to our dinner as well, by the way.” He added.

***

Bucky woke to the scratching sound of pencil on paper. He blinked against the soft light, trying to focus his eyes. Steve was curled up on an armchair next to his bed, sketching, his eyes had the dreamy look in them that told Buck he was completely lost in his work.

As the fogginess of sleep drifted from his mind, he remembered the arm.

Carefully, he shifted into a sitting position, stretching his hand out in front of him. In the corner of his eye, Steve turned to look at him.

The fingers moved smoothly, almost as easily as his human hand.

Shuri had been right, it did feel much better than the Winter Soldier’s metal arm had.

His chest and shoulder felt light, the weight and pain that he’d been so unaware of were gone, only a light feeling of soreness left where the old limb had torn at his bones.

He reached out, taking Steve’s hand, running the vibranium fingertips over the warm skin.

Warm. Soft.

He could feel the rough calluses on Steve’s palm, the softer, fragile skin on his wrist, the faint scar on his thumb where the neighbour’s cat had bitten him as a kid.

Steve in turn traced the golden pattern on Bucky’s underarm, watching Bucky’s amazement as he felt the pressure and warmth of the gentle touch.

“You feel it.” He said.

“Not as strongly or clearly as the normal arm but… yes.”

That kid was a fucking genius and he’d stuff her with cookies and brownies til the end of time.

“What were you drawing?” Bucky asked, interlacing his vibranium fingers with Steve’s.

He held out the sketchbook. It was a portrait of Shuri, her hair up in two messy buns, her expression fierce but kind. Once again, Bucky could see the care and affection in every stroke,

“You really like her, huh?” He said softly.

“Hmm you missed a few things while you were napping, Sleeping Beauty.” Steve laughed, pressing a kiss on Bucky’s cheek. “Just wait until you hear about my talk with Tony.”

Chapter Text

The new arm was amazing . Not only was it lighter, more durable and let Bucky feel Steve’s touch, most importantly it noticed texture .

Specifically, soft kitten fur texture.

Originally, the cat was only a part of Shuri’s very in-depth tests on her creation.

Between the fabrics, the brushes, the feathers and whatever other material the scientist could think of, she had also decided to see how animals would react to the prosthetic limb and if he could control it well enough to interact with them.

Because this arm wasn’t a weapon. It wasn’t a tool to make him a more efficient soldier. It was just a work-in-progress invention meant to let people live their lives again.

The test subject kitty was organized from a local shelter and the moment Bucky stretched out the vibranium fingers and the small creature pressed it’s little head against them, he decided he would not give it back.

Steve’s expression when Bucky walked into the living room, tiny ball of white fluff sitting on his shoulder, was priceless.

Alpine’s first night in his new home cost the couch it’s life and the kitchen chairs looked like they’d seen war and death. Which was remarkable, considering the whole floor was constructed to hold the hulk.

Still, Bucky looked at the furry spawn of evil with such softness, Steve didn’t have the heart to complain. instead, they let Jarvis research how the hell to train a cat not to eat furniture.

The tomcat was stretched out on the couch, gnawing on Bucky’s fingers when Natasha and Pepper entered, their worried expressions temporarily softened by the peaceful image.

“The Iron Fist of Hydra.” Nat chuckled. “The ghost story, deadliest assassin of the 20th Century.” She bent down, scratching Al’s head. “Defeated by a kitten.”

“Hmm don’t let his looks fool you, he’s a vicious killer.” Steve said. “The cat, not Bucky, obviously.”

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Bucky carefully moved the animal aside, offering the women a seat on the other couch.

Pepper sat down, legs crossed, her face set back into her CEO expression.

Nat stood next to her, arms crossed.

“We’ve been having trouble satisfying the public after what happened at the Brooklyn Bridge.” Pepper sighed. “Our people worked day and night trying to cover the thing up but that damn social media thing... “

“Things were easier when the public could be lied to on paper.” Steve said sarcastically, dropping unto the couch next to Bucky.

“Would you rather tell them Neo-Nazis are still running Amok in the streets?” Natasha asked. “Or that we’re keeping their favourite killer in the heart of the Avengers’ headquarters?”

Steve’s eyes flashed. “You know that’s not what I meant. And he’s not a killer!”

“I am.” Bucky said simply. “We all are. I’m just the one who was on the wrong side.”

“Not by choice!”

“Doesn’t change the fact.”

Pepper cleared her throat, her stern eyes glaring at them, causing them to mumble apologies.

“No one is being lied to. It’s too late, people saw what they saw, they filmed, they posted, they’re already drawing their own conclusions. Tony’s influence and the leftover paperwork from the fall of Shield is all that’s keeping homeland security from walking in here and taking Sergeant Barnes away.”

Steve flinched, he grabbed Bucky’s hand protectively and frowned. “They can’t!”

“We don’t intend to let that happen.” Pepper’s voice was softer now. “That is why I’m here. We have discussed the matter thoroughly in our team and the only chance we have is releasing the truth, or at least enough of it to satisfy the press. Take matters into our own hands, decide what gets told and the way it is said.”

Natasha’s gaze rested on their hands, her brows furrowed in thought.

“Is it true what people are saying?” She asked softly. “Are you two together?” Her eyes met Bucky’s, a small smile quivering on her lips.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Steve went visibly tense.

Bucky traced circles on the back if his hand. “It’s okay, Steve.” He said softly.

“We are. Only for a few days now, though. I’m sure we would’ve told you during the dinner we planned.”

Pepper nodded, her expression still unmoving but her eyes kind.

Nat smiled. “Was about time, too.”

“Not to be insensitive,” Pepper said carefully. “But this could mean a big advantage for us. People love lovestories. Especially during the holiday season.”

“You want to sell us as a tragic romance?” Steve asked. The bite was gone from his voice. “Would that make any difference in keeping Buck safe?”

Bucky cocked his head to the side. “They wouldn’t judge us? Two… men…?”

"I’m not saying there won’t be any backlash. And it’s completely your decision. But people are tired of hearing excuses from the Iron Man, they don’t trust the Black Widow, they have no idea who Bruce Banner is. Captain America is a national icon. People love him. If you tell them your story, you explain to them what happened, some of them will listen. Maybe enough to stop people from being afraid of the Winter Soldier.”

“Tony said there are files.” Bucky said slowly. “About what they did to me. He said reading them made him realize he couldn’t blame for… for what happened. What if people knew? If they understood what happened to me.”

“Wouldn’t that just mean telling the public how to make more Winter Soldiers?” Steve asked.

Natasha shook her head. “Anyone who would want to repeat the program would know how to get the files without making them public knowledge. Besides, a censored version would be more than enough. I agree with Pepper though, as much as i dislike the idea of selling your personal life to please the masses, if we can get enough people to root for James, no one would dare locking him up.”

Bucky pulled Alpine into his lap, burying his fingers in the long fur. The cat started purring loudly,  tiny body vibrating with excitement.

“You’re the expert.” He said to Pepper. “What should we do?”

“Press conference.” The CEO decided. “We can prepare you, practise your answers. All you two have to do is tell your side of the story. The rest is for our team to handle.”

“I have nothing left to hide.” Bucky said quietly, looking up at Steve. “But I understand that Captain America is a title that comes with a certain responsibility. You don’t have to sacrifice all that.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Steve said softly. “You know I’d do anything.” He looked at Pepper, nodding. “We’ll do it.”

She smiled softly. “It’ll all be okay. You’re not alone.”

Nat stayed while Pepper went to start preparation.

The Black Widow took the little tomcat into her arms, letting him play with the straps on her leather jacket.

“I am very happy for you, really.” She said softly. “If anyone deserves some peace and happiness, it’s the two of you.”

“We have each other.” Bucky said. “Everything else will fall into place, sooner or later.”

They sat in silence for a while, watching the cat, thinking.

Pepper sent up a few of her public image people, who walked them through the plan for the press conference that the CEO had set up for later that day, intent on making use of the holiday spirit.

Steve clearly wasn’t too happy about the whole idea but he stopped complaining.

Bucky didn’t mind. He hadn’t been ashamed of loving Steve, even back in the 40s. And maybe the world should know what Hydra had done to him. Maybe people deserved to know how cruel and dangerous the organization truly was. Selling his own life to the public wasn’t the nicest thought but if it meant he could stay here, it was more than worth it.

***

Pepper was an angel. An absolute queen. Bucky made a mental note to produce even more cookies for her.

The press conference she had organized was much calmer than he had thought it would be. Nothing like the flashing lights and screaming that he’d seen on TV before.

The room was cold and empty, but the reporters sitting on the small chairs in the center were calm and controlled. Most of them worked for prestigious newspapers or ran popular blogs that didn’t support useless gossip.

They waited patiently as Pepper explained the situation, slightly censored. Not lying but not laying the whole truth out in the open either. Tony talked about the Winter Soldier program, showing excerpts from the files Natasha had found.

Bucky watched nervously as the audience gasped and murmured, their faces showing shock and compassion. It eased the anxiety slightly, seeing that people at least gave him the benefit of doubt.

Standing in for Shuri’s team, Stark also gave a basic summary of both the work on the prosthetic and the asset’s programming.

At last, Steve and Bucky were called into the room.

Bucky felt his heart race, every muscle in his body tense. He could feel the confused, curious stares as they walked up to the podium, hands tightly intertwined,

Steve went full Captain America, chest puffed out proudly, back straight, a polite but not completely honest smile on his face.

The reporter’s hands shot up, some of them waving eagerly, others snapping their fingers.

Cap held out his palm in a soothing gesture. “I know you have a lot of questions and we will answer them in a moment, but please let me speak first.”

He waited for the room to settle.

“You have come here seeking answers about Shield, Hydra, the Winter Soldier. Our friends have given you insight on the terrible that organization has done, in hopes that you understand why we all need to stand together now to prevent such thing from happening again. But I’m not here to talk about Hydra. I’m here to talk about my best friend.”

Steve had always been good at telling stories. When they were young, Becca would show him pictures she’d collected, magazine cutouts and posters, and Steve would come up with a story for it. He told stories of magic, distant worlds with dragons and wizards, while Bucky preferred adventures in the stars, spaceships and strange creatures from distant planets.

Just like the children back then, the room full of bloggers and journalists was quiet, listening intently, not even bothering to take notes.

And Steve told them a story. Some of it was public knowledge, the good old “friends from schoolyard to battlefield”, but he made sure to add bits of detail, Bucky spending his first wage on coloured pencils for Steve, the many nights he sat by his bed when his illness got too much, staying with him after his mother’s funeral, stories of the war and the Howlies.

Carefully selected pieces of their past, showing clearly how much they’d meant to each other even then.

While Steve spoke, Bucky felt calmer, soothed by the memories as much as the people in the audience. He listened, running his fingers over the hand entangled in his.

“As you can see, this man has been with me all my life, no matter how bad things got. So when I found out he was still alive, when I realized what they’d done to him, I couldn’t possibly give up on him. As you can see,” He glanced at Bucky fondly, holding his hand tightly. “I got him back. As you heard earlier, I couldn’t have done it without my friends. We owe these people a great deal.”

He took a deep breath, the slightly faked smile on his face became more genuine as he turned to look at Bucky.
“Amidst all this suffering and terror, we found each other. And I’m not letting you go again.”

Just as they’d rehearsed, which Bucky still thought was ridiculous, they leaned in for a kiss, only soft and gentle but drawn out long enough for the people in the chairs to start mumbling and snapping their fingers again.

The questions came as expected.

How long had they’d been in love? Did the others know? Was Captain America gay? Did they intend to be advocates for LGBT+ rights? What were their thoughts on this law and that event? Had Agent Carter known? Was she just a beard?

They answered their questions calmly and carefully, though Steve got a bit emotional trying to explain that his feelings for Peggy had been and still were true.

Pepper’s people came in after a few minutes, saving them from the endless waves of questions.

“Well done.” The redhead smiled as they left the press room. “We will take it from here.”

***

“What the fuck is shipping?” Bucky held up his phone to Steve. “And why are there pictures of us doing things I know we’ve never done.” Though maybe we should.

Steve laughed, closing the image on the screen. “That’s photoshopped, Buck. People do that all the time, never google for pics of me and Nat, it’s freaky. They have fancy computer things and put people’s faces on other people’s bodies.”

“That’s kinda rude. And it sounds dangerous.”

“Long as they’re using their skills to make cute shippy porn I won’t complain.” Steve chuckled. “It’s not really hurting anyone.”

Bucky leaned back into the seat with a sigh. “Guess Pepper’s plan worked out then.”

He looked out the car’s window, watching the city pass by.

People rushing through the gray, rainy day, a blur of colours and shapes. Sometimes it blew his mind how every single person out there had their own life, their own story to tell.

“You really think it’s a good idea to leave the tower so shortly after this?”

“It’s a safe facility.” Steve said calmly. “She’s an important woman, they had to give her top security. Especially after Shield fell.”

The building looked much nicer than Bucky had anticipated. Beautiful paintings lined the hallways, flowers stood in every corner, large windows flooded the place with daylight. It still smelled like sanitizer and plastic though. He clutched Steve’s hand tighter.

The staff greeted them kindly, a nurse accompanied them to Peggy’s room. “You’re lucky, she is having a good day. She even asked for you this morning, after she read the news.”

The papers and blogs had exploded, of course, within a few hours after the conference had ended.

As expected, the general public opinion was filled with ‘christmas miracles’ and conspiracy theories. The internet filled with edits and artworks, entire blogs and twitter accounts dedicated to them. Authors messaged the Tower, requesting the rights to make books, tv shows and movies.

Spokespeople of LGBT+ communities reached out for them, eager to use them as their posterboys.

“I was wondering when you’d come to see me.” Peggy smiled warmly, sitting up in her bed.

Steve approached eagerly, taking her into his arm. “Sorry I’m so late, world needed saving and all that.”

“The world always needs saving, dear.” She said softly, running her thumb over his cheek. “Now, stop standing in that corner like a wounded dog, Sergeant Barnes, that is no way to treat a lady!”

Bucky stood straight, bowing his head. “I’m sorry.” He sat on the other side of her bed, letting her take his hand into hers. “You look old.” She said with a twinkle in her eyes.

“You haven’t aged a day sind 1940.” Bucky answered. It was almost true. Her eyes still had the same fire.

Peggy shook her head. “That feels like a million lifetimes ago.” She cocked her head to the side. “What have you guys been up to? It has been a while since Shield fell.”

“Buck’s been baking for the whole tower.” Steve grinned. “The gym’s never been busier, people trying to work off all those cookies and cupcakes.”

“Steve’s painting again. Beautiful things, we’ll send you some prints.” Bucky added.

They told her about Hanukkah, about their nicely decorated apartment and the dinner that was now apparently expected of them.

Peggy’s family would come to celebrate christmas with her, they’d promised to visit her on christmas day. She wasn’t sure how old her grandchildren were but she knew she was excited to see them again. Steve found a photo album in one of the drawers and they both brought Bucky up to date, telling their stories of Peggy’s children and grandchildren, her nieces and nephews, some of them living in the states, others had returned to the UK. Whenever she couldn’t remember a name or a date, Steve reminded her, smoothly filling the gaps in her memory.

At last, Peggy put the book aside, remembering what she’d meant to ask them this morning.

“Is it true what the papers say?” She said. “About the two of you?”

Steve blushed. “Peggy, my feelings for you-”

“Oh shush, Steve, that was never in question.”

“It’s true.” Bucky said softly. “I was in love with him since we were kids. And now I guess he feels the same.”

Steve made a small confirming noise.

Peggy gently cupped his face into her frail hands. “That must’ve been painful. All these years not being able to say what you felt. And then, seeing him with me …”

He shook his head. “I know it could never be, not back then. Being his friend was more than enough. Him knowing that he meant the world to me…” He looked at Steve who nodded, smiling warmly. “I was happy for him, for both of you. All these years someone finally saw how great he was. And this guy needed someone who knew how to handle him.”

She laughed softly, taking both men’s hands into her own.

“You two watch out for each other. The world can be such a dark place, we know that better than most people. Having someone to stand by your side, when everything else falls apart, that is a rare and precious thing.”

They stayed with her for a while, telling stories, three people out of their time, reunited against all odds.

***

The car ride back was quiet. They stared out the window, lights passing by in a blur, the city just as busy by night as it had been during the day.

“She’s looking good.” Bucky said quietly, resting his head against the cold glass.

“Sometimes she’s worse.” Steve answered. “Most of the time she cries when she sees me because she forgets that I lived. The stories she told today I’ve heard a million times.” He smiled. “But I’ll hear them a million times more.”

“She could still beat both our asses in a heartbeat, I’m sure.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, she’s still my best girl. I’m glad she, uhm, agrees. With us.”

“Peggy got married, Steve. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just still… strange.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, turning his head to look at Steve. The passing lights of the city danced over his face, painting hundreds of colourful dots on his skin. He looked like one of his paintings.

“Sarah knew.” He said slowly. “She knew how I felt about you.”

Something flashed in Steve’s eyes. “You told Ma?”

Bucky shook his head. “When she was getting sick and I stayed at your place, one night you were asleep and I heard her cough. I went to get her water, another blanket, stayed by her side for a while. She took my hand and she said ‘I see how you look at him, James. I see how much you love my Steven. People are gonna tell you it ain’t right. They’re gonna think your love is wrong. But don’t you let them, James, don’t you let anyone get between you. He may not know it but he loves you and he needs you.’” He took a deep breath, feeling his throat tighten with emotions. “She asked me to watch out for you when she was gone.”

“What did you say?” Steve whispered. His eyes were shining with tears.

Bucky smiled weakly. “I said ‘Ma’am, I will love your son ‘til my dyin’ day and beyond. Nothing can keep him outta trouble but I swear I will follow him into whatever he gets himself into next.’”

The image was clear in his mind, the frail woman in the sheets, smiling warmly, clutching his hand in her thin fingers. He’d been so afraid of people finding out, knowing who he really was. But Sarah Rogers had known, and she’d loved him nonetheless. Something about that had given him hope, even then.

Later, he’d been sure some of the Howlies had known, or at least suspected. But neither of them had ever said a word. Just glances of kindness and understanding. The soothing air of being with people who he could trust unconditionally.

Steve wiped the tears away with the back of his hand and cleared his throat.

“She was a great woman.” He said hoarsely. “It’s good to know she’d have approved, too.”

He reached across the seat between them, taking Bucky’s hand into his.

“Why did you never tell me? Before the war, before Peggy? Did you really think I’d have seen you any different?”

“I was afraid. I knew you would’ve loved me all the same but, Steve, you know what they did with people like me back then. And you already got yourself into enough trouble. So I went to all these days with nice girls, making sure to keep up appearances. Some of them had girlfriends themselves. We helped each other, kept each other safe.” He sighed softly. “When we got older I thought maybe we had a chance. Maybe I could get a job, a nice house, move to a place where people minded their own business. I would’ve told you how I felt. Just that tiny bit of hope that you’d feel the same. But then I got drafted and everything changed.”

He’d hated it. hated the letter, hated the camp, hated the guns, hated how good he was at it.

The war had torn them apart. Despite his promise, despite his heart’s desire, they’d been separated after all. And then he’d done everything he could to keep Steve safe, to keep him away from all the horrible things he’d seen and heard of.

After Azzano he’d just felt guilty for how glad he was to have Steve with him after all.

“Well, we’ll just have to make up for lost time, then.”

Steve leaned forward, pulling Bucky into a gentle kiss. It hit him again how, after all these years of waiting, fearing and wondering, he was finally able to just do this. Bucky ran his hands along Steve’s jaw and neck, kissing him more urgently. The tension of the day fell away as a wave of emotions crashed over them.

Steve curled his fingers into the long hair, the other hand sprawled across Bucky’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. Half crawling on top of him, he pressed Bucky against the window, feeling the cold glass on the back of his hand. Their bodies intertwined, a tangled mess of limbs, heat radiating from the super soldiers’ skin.

A blinking light discreetly notified them they had arrived at their destination.

***

Alpine cared little for his owner’s bedtimes. It was 8Am and that meant breakfast. The tiny tomcat marched over the sweaty shirts scattered around the flat and pushed through the creak in the bedroom door.

Standing firmly on the covers, claws dug into the silky fabric, he yelled.

“It’s your damn cat, go feed it.” Steve mumbled into his pillow.

“I fed him last time.” Bucky growled. “You get up.”

There was a moment of blissful silence before they felt the fuzzy fur on their faces.

“Jarvis. Please. Can’t you do something?”

“Good Morning, Sergeant Barnes.” The ceiling voice sounded slightly amused. “I could order an automatic feeding station, though I do not recommend it. The animal will bond much easier with you and Captain Rogers if you are the ones to give it food.”

Making more noises of protest, the world’s deadliest sniper picked up his fluffy kitten and padded into the kitchen.

Steve followed not long after, pressing his still naked body against Bucky’s, gently kissing his neck.

“You could always come back to bed, you know.” He said quietly.

“Can’t.” Bucky sighed. “We promised a team of deadly superheroes a huge dinner and I still have no idea what I even intend to serve.” He nodded towards the selection of cookbooks spread out across the counter. “They’re your friends, you tell me.”

“Buck, most of these people have spent years in tents, broken down houses or imprisonment, I’m sure they’ll be more than happy with anything you make. Except maybe Tony, but he likes to complain so you’re just doing him a favour.”

Bucky settled for salads, beef brisket and latkes for the main course and sufganiyot for dessert, just like he remembered his Ma making it. The cookbooks weren’t much help, but Jarvis found recipes that were old enough to match what both men remembered of their past celebrations.

Bruce joined them in the kitchen soon after, beaming like a child in a toy store as he kneaded his dough.

Steve suspected the man was grateful to do anything that didn’t involve fight and destruction.

“You’re making them with water?”

“No dairy, since we’re making a meat dish.” Bucky explained. “But it tastes just as good, don’t worry.”

“Will the Wakandans be joining us? I have so many questions to ask but I’m not sure if the’d feel comfortable…”

“Oh, I’m sure Shuri would love to show off how clever she is.” Steve laughed. The girl had already tried to explain her genius inventions to both of them. Bucky had understood at least part of it and had been more than fascinated, asking questions even though he knew he wouldn’t understand the answers. Steve had smiled politely and enjoyed the aura of excitement and youthful energy

Having her at one table with Banner and Stark would be quite the experience.

Shuri did arrive extra early, rushing past Bucky and Steve to sweep Alpine up in the air, singing “I want to see my little boy!”.

Clutching the kitten tightly in her arms, she turned around to the men in the kitchen. “And hello to you to, Sergeant Bucky and Captain Steve! Happy Chanukkah, I guess. I wasn’t sure if gifts would be appropriate but then I thought my presence was enough of a blessing. Also, I was asleep until half an hour ago when the ceiling voice woke me.”

Bruce shuffled from behind the counter, stretching his hand out with a shy smile. “Bruce Banner, we met fleetingly when you arrived here, I’m a big admirer of your work.”

The princess awkwardly shook his hand with the cat balanced on her arm and grinned. “Thank you, Mr Banner, I was quite impressed by your work as well. Read your reports on radioactive materials when I was twelve!”

“Were you always a smartass or did that come as a side effect of puberty?” Bucky asked.

“Were you always a pain in the ass or did that come with World War II?” Shuri answered.

“Oh he was a pain in my ass the moment I met him.” Steve added, blushing deep red as Shuri arched his brow at him, obviously biting back a remark. “I did not mean it like that.”

“To answer your question,” She said with a playful wink, “when my brother started being prepared for his royal duties and we all had to play dress-up and memorize ceremonial blablah, I often hid in the lab where they studied the many properties of Vibranium. My father was not a fan of it but mother said as long as I was learning something useful, he shouldn’t stop me. So I ended up escaping from dress fittings, dinner parties and politics by learning all the knowledge my country possessed and more. I was good at it and I loved it, so I stayed.”

“Tony spoke very highly of you.” Bruce said. “Which must’ve been very tough for him. He doesn’t like people being smarter than him.”

Shuri laughed. “Oh, I don’t think I am smarter than any of you. I just have more knowledge to work with. Wakanda has been studying many fields of science for longer than your western culture.” Her expression turned more serious for a moment, eyes focussed in the distance. “I have been trying to convince my father to let us share what we know with the world for a while. The good we could do. People we could help. Our knowledge in medicine could save many lives. Yet he is too afraid. I keep hoping my brother will be a wiser king, one day.” She shrugged and gently placed Al back on the ground. “Nevermind that now, we’re here to celebrate, yes? Anything you need help with?”

The rest of the guests poured in one by one, bringing snacks and drinks.

Natasha and Clint both brought chocolate coins and dreidels, Thor had taken two bottles of some extra strong mead from Asgard (“No mortal should have a taste of this drink but I do not take you for a normal, puny human, friend Barnes!”). Pepper had talked Tony into making vegan cookies, which saved them all from the expensive, tasteless rich-people-food that he usually liked to bring to events.

Sam showed up last, carrying a tower of tupperware containers.

“My mum really wanted y’all to have these. I think she’s just very happy I have friends again.”

Bucky stood in the corner of the room, watching from a distance everyone gathered around the table, laughing and talking. He felt a flutter in his chest.

“Everything okay, champ?” Steve said quietly, placing his hand on Bucky’s hip.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He answered. “It’s just… a bit overwhelming. All these people here. They all… care.” His voice cracked slightly as he felt the soft sting of tears in his eyes. “All these years I was less than a person and suddenly there’s a room full of people who just .. care.”

“Better get used to it.” Steve mumbled, pressing his lips into Bucky’s soft hair. “They’re not easy to get rid of.”

They joined the others, handing out the food, filling up drinks. Steve gave a short but overly dramatic speech about friendship and gratitude, which Bucky was very grateful for since it took the attention away from him.

While Banner and Tony were in deep discussion with Shuri, Bucky sat next to Thor, accepting his offer for a drink.

“So this is magic alien stuff? That might actually get me drunk?”

“‘Tis the most powerful drink in the galaxy! Even the cocktail of human sorcery in your veins could not defeat it’s effect. Steven thought it would and ended up singing sad lovesongs the whole night. He is not a very good singer, it was dreadful.”

Bucky laughed, taking a long sip from his glass. “Well, I happen to be a very good singer!”

The magic alien stuff spread through him warm and comforting, for the first time in over 70 years he felt his head go light, like a heavy weight lifting from his mind.

This time when he lit the last candle, Bucky started singing in Yiddish, happy and proud that he had not forgotten the words, even after all these years.

Steve tried to sing along, mumbling quietly, stumbling over the words.

“You try singing in old irish for christmas.” He said when Bucky teased him about it later. “See how well you can sing something you haven’t heard in a few decades!”

“Steve, I could sing classic christmas songs in at least 20 other languages, I’m sure I can summon your mother’s bedtime songs if I tried.”

When he did, Steve almost cried.

***

“Happy Chanukkah, James.” Nat said, settling on the soft carpet next to Bucky. He had retreated from the busy crowd to watch from afar as Steve told stories of the Howlies and the war. Tony was rolling his eyes but the others seemed mesmerized by him.

“Are you enjoying your little party?”

He nodded. “I am. Just a bit too much at once. Can’t focus on anything with so many people talking.” Al had had the right idea by hiding under the couch. Sometimes he wished he was small enough to fit under the furniture.

“Yeah I know the feeling. Hard to relax when you feel your senses being overloaded with input from all around. Disadvantage of the whole red room training thing.”

“I used to really like it, I think. Crowds, people, being the center of attention.”

Natalia shrugged. “We all change, sooner or later.”

“i spoke to Pepper.” She added. “It looks like they’re dropping all charges against you. Nice little mixture of pressure from having a Nazi organization grow right under their noses, guilt-tripping them with the files on a US Soldier who fought for his country being tortured by the enemy for years and the public worshipping you and Steve as the new Powercouple.”

Her eyes followed the super soldier around the room, fondness written clearly on her face.

Bucky knew it meant a lot for her to show her feelings so openly, to be so vulnerable sitting cross-legged on the floor, her hand under the couch so the small kitten could groom her fingers.

“You’ve all done so much for us. For me. I don’t know if I can ever repay that debt.” He said quietly.

“It’s not a debt. That’s not how friendships work, Barnes.” She got to her feet, softly kissing Bucky’s forehead. “Now excuse me for a moment, I have to get some of those baked goods before your super metabolism boyfriend eats them all!”

He sat and watched people some more, his eyes wandering from person to person.

Something about it was fascinating. The little ways they all showed their affection for each other.

Like Natasha elegantly hopping on the kitchen table to get her plate out of Steve’s reach while Steve pretended to be upset. Like children playing in the yard.

Tony throwing peanuts at Bruce while Shuri showed Pepper something on her phone.

Thor was telling a story to Clint and Sam who stood so close their shoulder touched.

Once again, Bucky felt overwhelmed with affection and gratitude. Just a few months ago he had not even been a person. Locked away, forgotten by anyone but Steve. Now all these people were here, sharing their love with him so openly as if they’d never been hurt before.

“This is true meaning of the holiday season.” He said as he rejoined the group. “Thank you.”

Sam smiled warmly. “Thank you for the invitation. I can imagine it must be quite a lot for you after such little time.”

Thor raised his glass. “Fear not, friend Barnes! Even the bravest of warriors need time to heal! War always leaves it’s scars!” He downed the rest of his drink. “Excuse me, friends, I shall find the fluffy creature and ask for its companionship!” The god of thunder made his way to the living room, hand stretched out under the couch, making cooing noises.

“He’s worse than Steve.” Bucky observed. “Does he always talk like that?”

Sam shrugged. “Don’t think so, haven’t really spent a lot of time with the Avengers, actually. Not really an official member yet.”

He crossed his arms, arching his brow. “Which reminds me, now that Steve and you are like, a romantic couple thing, does that mean the part for best bro is open again cuz I was definitely coming for that slot before you showed up.”

“You wanna be his plucky sidekick?” Bucky asked. “Besides, I was told it’s always Bros before Hos and I am definitely not the ho in this scenario.”

“You’re just scared my terrifyingly good looks are a competition to your old ass.” Sam grinned.

Bucky thought for a moment, then shook his head. “First of all, dream on honey, you might have a pretty face but you haven’t even seen half of me in action.” Sam made a choking sound. “And second, between the people in this room, I think Tony might be the biggest competition and Steve’s way too afraid of Pepper.”

“Why Tony, cuz he only goes for idiots?”

“Deeply traumatized idiots with daddy issues.” Bucky corrected him and winked.

Sam made a ‘that’s fair’ gesture and gave him a pad on the back.

“I can feel you talking about me over there!” Steve yelled from the other side of the room.

“Good!” Sam yelled back.

“Don’t worry, doll, I’ll keep your kinks to myself ‘til the third drink!” Bucky added.

“Two can play that game, Barnes, and your history is much more interesting than mine.” Steve answered, raising his glass.

“You guys are so sweet I might have to vomit.” Sam mumbled, rolling his eyes.

The asgardian alcohol and the good looks overwhelmed Bucky at last and he leaned over, kissing Sam right on the mouth. To his surprise, the other man kissed back for a moment, before pushing him off with a laugh.

“Who’s the ho now, man?” He said kindly.

“Both of you!” Steve yelled.

Clint dragged the Falcon off shortly after, eager to show him whatever new tech Stark had given him, so Bucky spent some more time watching people and just being grateful.

Tony joined him, two drinks in his hand, holding both of them out to him.

“How much do I have to give you to get the tea on Cap’s dirtiest secrets?”

Bucky chuckled, turning the glasses down. “You know I was joking right, I’m not actually gonna sell him out. I can’t, he knows too much about me and you guys were just starting to like me.”

“Is it real kinky?” Tony pressed on. “Is the national anthem playing everytime you kiss? Flag spread out on the bed? Men wearing women’s underwear?”

“That is a very random collection of things, Tony, should I be concerned?”

“I’d blame it on the booze but I am actually not allowed to drink anymore, so I think it’s just happiness making me kinda high and that’s actually really disgusting.”

“D’aw you’re a real softie, Stark.” Bucky laughed. “Under all that sarcasm and…” He gestured with his hands. “Know-it-all.”

“Careful, Murderbot, the AI controlling your home is under my complete control.”

Bucky’s gaze softened. “Howard was, too. All sarcasm and smartass. But every now and then we got lucky and he actually dropped his act. Let us all in. Steve, Peg and me. The Howlies too, sometimes.” He felt the soft tug of sadness in his chest. “He was a truly good man. I really am sorry, Tony.”

“We’ve been over that.” Tony said quickly.

“I know, I just wanna use this moment before you build up that wall again.” Bucky explained. “You are a good man, too. Maybe even better. Howard would be so proud.”

Before he even finished his sentence, Tony had pulled him into a tight hug, his face buried in Bucky’s shoulder.

When he pulled back, his face had readjusted into his regular cool, controlled expression.

“Don’t get used to, big guy, I’ll still try to insult you and get pissy about Captain America.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Bucky smiled.

***

When everyone had left and Alpine had left his hiding spot, Bucky went back to the balcony, cool night air on his skin clearing his thoughts. As always, the city was alive but distant below him. Half concealed in the darkness, it was almost possible to pretend things hadn’t changed that much. That the skyline was still the same he’d seen on the ferris wheel when he’d tried to impress Dot The Redhead.

Steve followed him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.

“I know you don’t usually do presents on hanukkah but I didn’t wanna wait for christmas eve.”

He said softly. He handed him a sketchbook, bound in black leather with Bucky’s name written in golden letters on it’s spine.

It was full of sketches and drawings. Three girls running through a yard. Two little boys on a fire escape. A woman, smiling warmly as she lit the candles on a menorah. Two young men dancing on a rooftop. Pretty girls in flowing dresses on a stage. An elderly man with oil smears on his face reading a newspaper.

“I started doing these back when we didn’t know how much of your past you would remember. Not many photographs from back when we were little. Dunno how accurate these are but, y’know, that’s how I remember it at least.”

Bucky felt his face get hot as tears rolled down his cheeks. “They are beautiful, Steve.” He whispered

His sisters. His Ma. Uncle Jerry who took him boxing. The girls from High School who’d been the first other queer people he’d ever met.

Skinny, fragile little Stevie with his oversized, newspaper-stuffed shoes and a stubborn expression. Steve hadnt drawn the faces too detailed, especially his own was rough and abstracted, but Bucky’s own memory filled in the gaps, making the sketched come to life in his mind.

It was like a piece of him that had been missing had finally come back.

He pulled Steve close, pressing their foreheads together, overwhelming emotion tugging at his chest.

“I love you so much, Stevie. Thank you.”

“Love you too, Buck.”

They stood in their tight embrace, cold air on their skin, the soft murmur of the city below them.

The past weeks had felt like decades, filled with pain and grief and love and friendship, but at the same time it might as well still be 1940.

Part of them would always be those two young best friends in Brooklyn, trying to make it on their own, hearts full of hope and heads full of ideas.

Another part would always be the comrades, standing side by side in fire and death, staying strong for each other as the world falls apart.

But now there was this new part of them, this strange new path they walked, hand in hand, as lovers. Two battle-scarred men facing this strange new world together.

Whatever way he’d loved him then and whatever way he was going to love him in the future, Steven Grant Rogers would always be his heart, his hope, his home.

Chapter Text

“You’re feeding him to much.” Steve chuckled, gently placing the giant tomcat back on the couch. “He’s gotten so fat!”

“He’s very fluffy, Steve. It’s all fur and muscles.” Bucky poked Al’s belly, the cat’s claws immediately trying to dig into the vibranium arm.

Steve arched his brow. “That fur sure weight a lot, then.”

He joined them on the couch, crawling into Bucky’s lap, head nuzzled in his neck.

“How was training?” Bucky asked softly, his fingers almost instinctively curling into the blond hair. It had gotten darker as it got longer, almost the same shade as the beard. If anyone had told him that skinny, soft Stevie would one day be a buff, giant soldier with an actual full beard, he’d have dropped dead from laughter. Then again, he’d never have thought he’d be a long-haired, metal-armed member of a superhero team and here he was.

“‘was good. Nat beat me on the new training course again. I’m getting old.” Steve murmured against his boyfriend’s exposed skin.

“You’d be like, what, 30 now? You have catching up to do, I’m pretty sure I’m like 35 at least.”

Steve lifted his head to look at him. “I feel twenty and a hundred at the same time.”

“Me, too pal.” Bucky cupped Steve’s face in his left hand, running his thumb over the beard. His face was still the same, behind the new scruff and the healthy serum glow. The same ugly broken nose. The same kind eyes. He was beautiful as ever.

“Shuri texted me earlier.” Buck said quietly. “King T’Challa is gonna do a press conference and offer to share Wakanda’s resources with the rest of the UN. Apparently some shit happened down in their country and they decided it’s time to reconnect with the world.”

“That’s good. Guess that means your prosthetics project can finally get launched for real. It’s gonna help a lot of people.”

There was little more to improve on their prototypes. Sam had brought in a few people he trusted, vets who’d lost limbs during their service and willing to help with their project. Not all of their prosthetics were vibranium but all were made with maximum comfort and at least a certain level of touch-sensitivity. Some had complex designs, some were a classy sleek gray, others were equipped with an extra layer of fake skin, to look as natural as possible.

Bucky had turned down the offer for a realistic looking arm. He’d grown to like the elegant vibranium. Much like Steve with his rugged new look, the arm marked him as his new self. The new man he’d become. He’d taken the title of the Winter Soldier and turned it from something frightening and dangerous to a name spoken with awe when he’d officially joined the Avengers. People made artworks of the pattern on his prosthetic interlacing with the stripes and star on the Cap’s shield, kids wore cardboard or fabric versions of it on halloween,

As if he read his thoughts, Steve took the hand into his own and kissed each knuckle softly.

He’d never treated it as a foreign object, not even when it was still Hydra’s red-starred metal.

Bucky’s heart fluttered.

“Hmhm Stark is gonna be so annoyed when people find out there’s other smart inventors out there.”

Steve grinned. “I think he’s already given up on that. ‘specially with Peter and his chemistry knowledge.”

Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yeah, he’s been parking the boy here to be babysitted whenever Spiderboy gets too clever. This place is turning into Ikea’s Småland every time he’s here.”

Tony had found the kid on YouTube and some daddy-issue-father-instinct-thing had triggered as soon as he’d found out who he was. Now, the Spiderman was Avenger trainee, getting fight training and fancy gadgets but in turn had to promise to stay in school and be the friendly neighbourhood superhero. Bucky felt extreme respect for the boy, young as he was, shouldering such heavy responsibility. He knew what that was like, kinda. Which was why he’d started lovingly insulting him from day one, relieved to find Peter had more than enough New Yorkan sass to deal with it.

“It’s not his fault that he keeps beating you in Mario Kart, you know?” Steve teased him.

Bucky huffed. “The kid is cheating with those freaky spidersenses of his! Besides, I am old and disabled and he has no respect for that!”

He placed his free hand on Steve’s chest, running his fingers up and down the smooth fabric. Sometimes he wondered if Steve wore these extra tight shirts on purpose or if he was just too much of a dork to realize his body had grown more than one clothing size. He figured it was the latter.

Either way, Bucky was secretly grateful for the thin, stretched fabric allowing him to feel the heat of Steve’s skin under his palm. He could feel his heartbeat, slightly quickened by the intimacy of the touch, could feel every breath spread through the other man’s body.

“Hey, Steve?” Bucky asked carefully. “What do ya say about going on a little vacation? Y’know, just getting out of the tower for a few days.”

Steve sat up, still half in Bucky’s lap, cocking his head to the side. “Do you feel like you need to get away?”

“No, I mean, it’s great here and all, it’s just.” He shrugged. “We never really go anywhere outside New York other than to beat up bad guys and adopt lost mutant children into our gang of depressed orphans. Just answer the question, Rogers.”

Steve laughed softly. “Okay, well, where did you wanna go?” He placed his arm loosely over Bucky’s shoulders.

The way Steve looked at him when they were close and alone like this still made Bucky shiver.

It just seemed to unreal that this beautiful person could really be his.

“Remember how we always wanted to see the Grand Canyon when we were kids?” He mumbled, his hand drifting back into Steve’s hair again.

“We talked about it in school and we couldn’t believe it was actually real, so we swore we’d get there one day to see for ourselves.” Steve smiled. “Seems kinda funny now, after the aliens,  superheroes and norse gods. But I’d still love to see it!”

“We could make a little road trip, camp there, …” Bucky reached into his pocket and smoothly dropped of the couch, onto one knee. “I also thought while we’re there you might want to marry me.” He smirked nervously, holding out the small jewelry box, opening it to reveal the elegant ring. Shuri had helped him with it, forged it out of vibranium, the same colours and pattern as Bucky’s arm, with a faint glow. His heart was racing, jumping against the inside of his ribcage.

Steve stared for a moment, tears slowly pooling in his eyes. “Buck….”
“I’m not one to make big speeches.” Bucky said hoarsely. “I love you, Steven Grant Rogers. Your my hope, my home, my best friend, my family. Marry me.”

Steve drew a shaky breath. “Yes, of course, a million times yes!” He threw himself into Bucky, wrapping his arms around him, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you so much, Buck.” He choked, kissing him, again and again. The nervosity fell away, launching them into a passionate embrace.

“hmhmm pretty sure you gotta let me give you the ring now, pal.” Bucky chuckled against his lips.

He gently backed away to take Steve’s hand, sliding the ring on it. It was no surprise that it fit perfectly, Shuri was just good like that.

“It’s beautiful, Buck.”

They sat on the soft carpet, leaned against the couch, bodies pressed together.

Somewhere on the couch, Alpine was purring loudly as if he meant to approve of their engagement.

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Asking you to marry me at the Grand Canyon? Since we were about 15. Asking you now with a vibranium ring in the living room? Few months. Natalia and I were talking about it while you were out on a mission with Sam and she said ‘You’ve waited almost a century, how much longer do you wanna pine for him like this?’ so …” He blushed.

It had been quite the intimate talk with the Black Widow, both of them so clumsy and scared in their own relationships, unsure how to interact with other humans in fear of losing them. Nat herself had been wondering how much more could come out of her relationship with Clint for a while. They’d encouraged each other, in the end, to get themselves out there and take a risk.

“So you want a quiet ceremony? Just the two of us?” Steve asked,.

“Well, we’re gonna need two witnesses, I guess for you that’s men of honour? I was thinking Sam and Nat should come. We can always throw a big party afterwards, but just for the ceremony, I thought it might be nice to keep it small and quiet. Unless the others feel offended…”

“I’m sure they’ll understand, don’t worry.” He kissed Bucky’s cheek. “I like the idea. A lot.”

A loud sound echoed through the tower, making both men sigh and roll their eyes.

“Captain Rogers. Sergeant Barnes. I am very sorry to disturb you but I believe your services are required.” Jarvis said politely. The obnoxious ‘Avengers Assemble’ hologram started hovering in their hallway, their briefings popping up around it.

“We really do need a vacation.” Steve said, shaking his head. With another sigh, he got to his feet, holding is hand out.

Bucky took it, pulling himself up to press another kiss on Steve’s lips.  “You think the world can save itself for a few days?”

“It’s gonna have to.” Steve said softly. “Kinda looking forward to marrying the love of my life.”