Chapter Text
“Stay with me, Buck, stay with me.” Bucky’s head lolled on Steve’s shoulder as he half-guided, half-carried him to the plane. “We’re almost there.”
Steve lost track of what he was saying, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and making sure Bucky stayed upright -- or as upright as possible. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. Bucky said something, but it was so quiet Steve couldn’t hear it.
Finally their footsteps were clanging on the metal ramp instead of gravel and mud. Steve held Bucky up with one arm as he ripped the gurney down from the wall mount onto the floor before gently lowering Bucky to the gurney.
“Just a minute, Buck,” he said as he lashed the straps to the seats so Bucky wouldn’t move in-flight. “Just a minute and we’ll be out of here.”
He turned to head to the pilot’s seat when Bucky caught his arm. “Steve,” he whispered. “Don’t go.”
“I’m not,” Steve promised desperately. “I’m not going anywhere, I’ve just gotta punch in the coordinates to get us out of here.”
Bucky clutched onto his arm harder, “Don’t leave me.”
Steve knelt down next to him, cradling Bucky to his chest. “Never again, I swear,” he whispered into Bucky’s hair. “I’m with you.”
Bucky frowned, as if he was trying desperately to remember something. “Till the end of the line,” he whispered, and Steve’s heart finally cracked in half.
“Yeah. Till the end of the line.” He swallowed. “I’m going to punch in the coordinates, but I’ll only be two feet away. If you need me, yell and I’ll come.”
Bucky nodded hesitantly and Steve brushed his lips against Bucky’s forehead. He forced himself to stand up, punch the button to pull up the ramp, and then he sat down in the pilot’s seat and panicked.
There was nowhere to go. He’d known he and Bucky couldn’t go back after they stole the plane, but he hadn’t thought past finding Zemo. Once Tony made contact with the others he’d have Ross and all the Avengers coming to knock him and Bucky out of the sky.
He buried his head in his hands, trying to think. Nick Fury had gone underground, Nat probably had too. There was no one to call.
Suddenly a transmission came over the line. “Captain.”
He straightened up in his seat. “Your highness.”
“I’ve apprehended Zemo, and I’m en route to deliver him to the proper authorities. I also am sending Mr. Stark back to Stark Industries to repair his suit.”
Steve sighed. “Thank you. Without you --”
“Don’t thank me yet,” T’Challa said. “Given the extenuating circumstances, I would like to personally offer you sanctuary in Wakanda.”
“Both of us?” Steve asked.
“Yes.” T’Challa said. “You helped me bring my father’s murderer to justice. And since your position is now… precarious with your government, it’s the least I can do.”
Steve sagged back into the seat with relief. “I can’t thank you enough, Your highness.”
“I’m sending you the coordinates now,” he said. “And I’ll be sending a message along to my mother and the Dora Milaje so they’ll expect you.”
Steve laughed weakly. “Instead of shooting us out of the sky.”
“Exactly,” T’Challa said drily. “I hope to see you soon.”
“Thank you,” Steve said again, and the transmission ended. He plugged in the coordinates and prepped the plane for take off. “Let’s get out of here before we have the entire US Air Force on our asses,” he muttered under his breath
As soon as they hit altitude he switched on the autopilot and went back to check on Bucky. He was pale and clammy, and Steve grabbed the med kit from the wall. “Hey Buck, hold on for me, ok?”
Bucky nodded, his eyes tracing Steve’s face as if committing it to memory. Then his eyes rolled back and a spasm wracked his body.
“No, no, no, no, no, Bucky, stay with me,” Steve said, dropping to his knees. A distant voice of reason whispered that he was going into shock, so Steve propped Bucky’s legs up on one of the seats and tore through the tactical gear until he found the emergency blankets. He draped them over Bucky, tucking them under so they wouldn’t shift during flight.
He wedged himself between the gurney and the seats so he could be as close to Bucky as possible. “This is just like the time I got the flu real bad, remember, Buck?” he asked desperately. “You stayed up all night telling me stories cause I was too scared to fall asleep.” He brushed the hair out of Bucky’s eyes and checked his pulse. It was low and rapid, but still there.
Steve sighed. “I guess it’s my turn.” He cleared his throat. “Do you remember the time…”
He was seven.
And his asthma was so bad he had to stay inside almost all summer. He had the radio to listen to, and sometimes his mom would bring a comic book home for him after work, but he still watched the other neighborhood kids playing baseball or kick the can in the street, wishing desperately that he could join them.
One afternoon he was sitting by the window reading a comic book when he heard footsteps clattering down the fire escape. He opened the window just in time for a boy with brown hair to jump down onto the landing.
“Hi, I’m James,” he said, sticking out his hand. “I just moved in upstairs. What’re you doing inside? Are you sick?”
He talked so fast Steve felt like he could barely keep up. “Yeah, I have asthma,” he said. He reached out and shook James’ hand. “I’m Steve.”
James grinned, revealing two missing teeth. “Nice to meet ya.” He pointed at the comic book. “Is that the new Spaceman Spiff?”
“Yeah,” Steve said, holding it out. “Do you wanna read it?”
“Yeah!” James exclaimed, clambering in through the window.
After that Steve’s mom joked that she had to chase him back to his own room every night.
They were eight .
And talking about the super powers they’d want to have. “Flying, obviously,” James said. “Or laser vision!” He flopped down onto the floor next to Steve. “What about you?”
“Invisibility,” Steve said. “Or super strength.”
James nodded thoughtfully. “What about superhero names?”
Steve scrunched up his nose. “I dunno. The Invisible Man is already taken.” They’d been listening to the radio show earlier. “You could be... Bucky.”
James frowned. “What the hell kinda name is Bucky?”
“For Buchanon -- you know -- so your friends know it’s you, but the bad guys won’t.”
James didn’t look convinced. “I dunno…”
“You can always change it later if you think of something better,” Steve said.
Of course it stuck.
They were fourteen .
And Steve was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, holding a wet washcloth to his busted lip while Bucky scolded him. “What the hell were you thinkin, Steve? I can’t be there all the time to stop you from picking stupid fights...”
He sighed. “Here, let me see.” Steve lowered the washcloth and Bucky tilted his face up, turning it from side to side with sure hands. Steve felt his face flush and hoped Bucky couldn’t tell under all the bruises.
Bucky pursed his lips. “Do you know what your mother’s going to do to me when she sees this? I’m supposed to look out for you!”
“It’s not a big deal, Buck, ok?” Steve said. “Would you have sat there and watched Bill Johnson knock Josie down and steal her crutches?”
“Wait, Josie Goldman? She had polio ,” Bucky said, aghast.
“I know,” Steve said, raising his eyebrows. “I couldn’t just let him get away with it.”
Bucky sighed again. “No. We can’t.”
The next day Principal Davis walked into the office and sighed. “You two again.”
Bucky and Steve were sitting in the tall wooden chairs, Bucky holding a handkerchief to his bloody nose and Steve holding his to the gash in his forehead.
Principal Davis waved them on. “Go in to see Miss Matthews, then come to my office when you’re done.”
The boys nodded and trooped across the hall to the nurse’s office. She raised her eyes to the ceiling at the sight of them.
“You boys are going to send me to an early grave,” she said as she pulled out the bandages and antiseptic from the cupboard. “What was it this time?”
“Bill Johnson knocked Josie Goldman down and stole her crutches,” Bucky said thickly.
Miss Matthews’ lips pressed together in a thin line. “That boy,” she said under her breath. “But still, you boys can’t keep getting into fights like this. If it’s not one of you in my office, it’s the other.” She sighed. “James, you really should be the responsible one.”
Bucky shrugged. “That’s the thing Miss Matthews. If Steve goes, I follow.”
Steve flushed with pride, but Miss Matthews was unamused. “Fine, then Steve, you need to be the responsible one.”
Steve snuck a look at Bucky. “Sorry Miss Matthews, I’m not so good at being responsible.” And Bucky laughed.
They were twenty two .
And leaving a dance hall. “That was fun!” Bucky said, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “And Daisy was a doll, wasn’t she?”
Steve shrugged. “Yeah, but I don’t think she liked me much.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “You say that every time, Steve, but you just gotta have more confidence.”
He kept up the pep talk as they walked down to the ferry. Steve felt more and more miserable with each step.
They missed the ferry, so the dock was deserted. Bucky leaned out over the railing, and Steve stood next to him, watching the waves lap at the posts. Bucky looked over at him. “One of these days, you’ll meet the right girl, Steve, you just gotta be patient.”
Steve laughed. “Bucky, you’ve introduced me to half the girls in Brooklyn, I’m not sure it’s gonna happen.” Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but Steve shook his head. “Besides… you know that feeling you’re supposed to get? Where you’re over the moon and you can’t stop thinking about her?”
Bucky nodded.
“Well… I’ve never felt that. About a girl, anyway,” Steve said, ducking his head.
Bucky frowned, confused, and then it clicked. “Oh.”
Steve waited for him to recoil or look at him with disgust, but Bucky just pursed his lips and tapped his fingers on the railing. “Ya know, I’ve heard about a bar down on 82nd St. Maybe we could go there tomorrow.”
Steve laughed, unspeakably relieved but also somehow disappointed. “Thanks, Buck, but I don’t think they’ll like my dancing any more than the girls do.”
Bucky sighed. “Well what do you want, Steve?”
Steve took a deep breath and reached over, took Bucky’s hand.
Bucky flinched, and Steve waited for him to yell or push him over the railing. But Bucky just whispered, “Oh,” and laced his fingers through Steve’s.
Steve looked up at him in shock. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Bucky said, his cheeks turning faintly pink.
“Shit,” Steve whispered, and Bucky threw his head back and laughed.
“How long?” he asked softly, leaning in so he was pressed against Steve’s side, blocking their interlocked hands from any nosy passerby.
“Forever, I guess,” Steve admitted, looking down bashfully. But Bucky just smiled.
He leaned down like he was looking at something in the water and his lips brushed Steve’s temple.
Steve turned and stood on tiptoe so his lips could graze Bucky’s jaw. Bucky sighed. “When is that ferry going to get here?” he asked, tapping his fingers on the railing.
“Ready to go home?” Steve asked.
“Yeah,” he said, giving Steve a hungry look that sent a thrill all the way down to his toes. “I’m ready to go home with you.”
They were twenty-four .
And they’d just stumbled on a few Nazis hiding out in an abandoned chateaux. It had taken most of the afternoon to make sure all the hostiles had surrendered or died, but Steve had finally cleared the house.
Steve sighed and leaned against the door frame, but then he noticed Bucky was bleeding. “You ok, pal?”
Bucky nodded, but Steve noticed he winced. “I’m fine. Just got in the way of some shrapnel.”
Steve leaned down and looked closer. “It doesn’t look too bad, but I’ll pull out the med kit and make sure you’re all patched up.”
A few minutes later Bucky was sitting in the bathroom, holding a damp cloth to his neck as Steve sorted through the med kit. He could hear the others exploring downstairs -- Dernier was determined to find the wine cellar.
Steve tilted Bucky’s chin up so he could get a better look. “Am I gonna make it, doc?” Bucky asked and Steve smirked.
“Most of them are fine, but this one on your neck is a little deeper than I’d like.” He grabbed the box of sulfa powder from the kit and tilted Bucky’s head to the side so he could sprinkle it on.
Bucky smiled, setting his jaw against the sting. “Wasn’t so long ago I was patching you up in the bathroom after a fight.”
Steve paused. “Which time?” he quipped and Bucky laughed.
They heard a crash downstairs, and then Peggy’s voice saying, “Honestly, look where you’re going, Junior, were you raised by wolves?” Steve smiled fondly and reached for the bandages.
“Peggy seems great,” Bucky said.
“Hmmm?” Steve asked, trying to find the end of the roll of gauze.
“I said Peggy seems great,” Bucky repeated. “I always told you, Steve, you just needed to find the right girl.”
Steve stopped and looked up at Bucky. “Whaddya mean, Buck?”
Bucky shrugged. “I’m just… I’m glad. That you found the kinda girl you’re looking for.”
Steve’s heart had somehow climbed up to his throat. “Bucky, it’s not -- we’re not --”
“It’s fine, pal, seriously.” Bucky reached up and put his hand on Steve’s shoulder, but Steve could tell his eyes were glassy.
“Bucky, listen to me,” Steve said, kneeling in front of him. “She’s my best girl, and we do care about each other, but… it turns out we’re both carrying a torch for someone else.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “She has a fella that’s better than Steve Rogers?”
“No, it turns out she has a best girl too. Named Violet.”
Bucky's eyes widened. “Oh.” He bit his lip. “So, does she know about --”
“Us? Yeah,” Steve said. He reached up and cupped Bucky's face with his hands gently, so he wouldn't brush off the sulfa powder. “I do love her, Buck, but it's always been you. I'm gonna love you till I die.”
“Till the end of the line,” Bucky whispered.
“Yeah,” Steve said, blinking back tears.
Suddenly there were footsteps in the hallway and Steve jumped up and grabbed the bandages.
Dum Dum poked his head in the door. “Apparently those Nazi asswipes drank all the wine in the house, so we're headed to the village to see if there's any booze there. You two coming?”
Steve shook his head. “Thanks, but I've gotta get this guy patched up. Can't have him getting infected.”
“True,” Dum Dum said. “It'd be a shame to ruin that pretty face of his. All the girls would be devastated.” He winked. “I'll bring some booze back for you if Dernier doesn't drink it all.”
“Thanks, Dum Dum,” Bucky said, and then he was gone. Downstairs they heard the door close, and silence settled on the house.
Steve raised his eyebrows and went back to putting on the bandages. “That should do it,” he said finally. “I tried not to do it too tight.”
Bucky rolled his neck experimentally. “No, it's fine.” He stood up and put his hands on Steve's chest. “Don't think I didn't notice that gash above your eyebrow.” He nodded toward the bathtub and Steve sat down on the edge, feeling slightly breathless.
Bucky tilted Steve’s chin up and dabbed the blood away and sprinkled the sulfa powder on the cut. Steve looked up at him, his heart hammering embarrassingly hard. Bucky’s fingers moved from his forehead to his hair as his gaze flicked down to Steve’s lips.
He bent down and kissed Steve deeply. Steve sighed against his lips, and put his hands on Bucky’s hips.
“Do you know how much I wanted to do this when we were in school?” Bucky asked, his voice ragged.
“How much?” Steve asked.
Bucky smiled. “Enough that I’m not missing the chance this time,” he said, taking Steve’s hand and leading him to a bedroom down the hall.
The alert from the cockpit woke Steve up with a jolt.
He stretched and looked down at Bucky, who was sound asleep on the gurney. His color looked a little better, and Steve kissed his forehead as he pulled himself up and walked to the cockpit as fast as his stiff knees would allow.
They were within a few miles of their destination according to T’Challa’s coordinates, but Steve didn’t see any sign of a city -- just trees as far as the eye could see.
Suddenly a voice hailed him. “Unauthorized aircraft, identify yourself.”
“It’s Captain -- Steve Rogers,” he said. “I was given coordinates by T’Challa.”
There was a horrifying silence, but finally the voice said. “You’ve been cleared to land. Follow the speeders coming your way.”
“Speeders?” Steve asked, just as two small single-pilot speeders rushed past him. He turned off the autopilot so he could steer, but he got more and more nervous as they got closer to the trees. “Shit shit shit,” he muttered under his breath, but suddenly he passed through a veil and saw a sprawling city spread out in front of him. “ Shit ,” he breathed, looking out in awe.
The speeders circled a rooftop landing pad, and Steve brought the plane down as carefully as possible. The landing was bumpier than Nat’s would have been, and he looked back at Bucky to make sure the gurney hadn’t moved.
He untied the straps holding the gurney to the seats while the ramp lowered. He heard footsteps approaching, and suddenly a group of women wearing red and gold strode onto the plane, holding spears. He stood at attention, as an older woman wearing a bell-shaped headdress and long purple cloak strode onto the plane.
He bowed. “Your majesty.”
She nodded. “T’Challa told me that you have brought my husband’s murderer to justice. The people of Wakanda are indebted to you.”
Steve ducked his head. “I couldn’t have done it without T’Challa’s help.” He glanced down at Bucky, who was now awake and surreptitiously counting spears and looking for an exit. “We can never repay the debt we owe him.”
Suddenly a petite girl with braided hair tied up in buns came running up the ramp. “Sorry, Mama, I came as fast as I could.” She beamed at Steve. “Hello, I’m Shuri, and I’m in charge.”
“Shuri…” the Queen Mother said, but her lips curved upward.
“Sorry, Mama, second in command,” Shuri amended. The Dora Milaje captain coughed. “Fiiine, Okoye,” she conceded. “I’m in charge of the lab.”
Steve smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
Shuri knelt down and peered at Bucky. “T’Challa said we’ll need to do a scan to see what we’re dealing with.” She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a tiny button-sized device. “This is a sedative. He’s enhanced, yes?” she asked, looking up at Steve.
Steve nodded, and she continued. “It will slowly release a sedative strong enough to keep him in a deep sleep for the next few hours, and we can run all our tests. So if you could give me your arm --”
She reached for Bucky, who lurched back. “No!” he shouted, pulling back. The Dora Milaje lowered their spears, and Steve dove down, wrapping his arms around Bucky.
“Bucky, it’s ok, they’re not here to hurt you,” he said.
“No, not again,” Bucky whispered. “Please, not again.”
Steve caught Shuri’s eye. “Do you have another one of those?”
She looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “ Of course .”
“Here,” he said, reaching over. The Dora Milaje captain inched forward, blocking Shuri from Steve. He held up his hands. “I’m just pulling up my sleeve,” he said as he rolled up the sleeve of his suit. “He’s spent the past few decades getting dosed with whatever nightmares Hydra cooked up, so if you give me a dose, he’ll see it won’t hurt him.”
Shuri nodded. “It’s ok, Okoye.” The Dora Milaje captain pursed her lips, but she stepped aside so Shuri could put the implant on Steve’s arm. Bucky’s eyes followed her movements closely.
She pulled out a second implant. “This won’t hurt you,” she said slowly. “It’ll help you sleep.”
Bucky looked up at Steve. “It’s ok, pal. You won’t feel a thing.”
Bucky slowly extended his arm, and Shuri quickly pressed the implant into Bucky’s skin. She stepped back, and the Dora Milaje visibly relaxed.
“You’ll be asleep before we get to the lab,” Shuri said. Okoye nodded at four of the Dora Milaje, who leaned down to pick up the gurney. Steve stood up to follow them, but swayed so much he had to catch himself against the wall.
“Can we get a second gurney, Okoye?” the Queen Mother asked. Steve sank down into the seat, and soon he sank gratefully onto the second gurney.
The Dora Milaje carried them both across the roof. Bucky looked around until he caught sight of Steve. He held his hand out and Steve grabbed it, holding on for dear life as he slipped into a deep sleep.