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Bucky found Steve down by the lake, long tendrils of reflected sunlight dancing across his face. Steve didn't look up as Bucky settled next to him on the log. He didn't say anything, but he nestled the long line of his shoulder against Bucky's, leaning in along the length.
Golden hour, Steve would call it, was dressing up the shore like one of Steve's paintings, alive with surreal colors and lush depths not seen at other times of day. Bucky tried to breathe it in, to let the beauty flow through him, but he couldn't let it inside, not really, not past his skin. Wakanda had been beautiful, too. It had settled his soul and aided his healing, but it hadn't, it couldn't...
He tried to keep his gaze up and out, but it kept drifting to his right, to Steve. The lake was beautiful, truly, but it had nothing on the sharp edges of Steve's face, shadows and highlights alive with the sunset. Marble, alive with fire. Fire, alight and reflective, glistening like the multitude of tears Steve and the others around him had shed in the weeks... since.
Bucky hadn't cried. He hadn't needed to. A pang maybe, at Tasha flinging herself away for Barton, after he'd finished rolling his eyes at the story, and Steve had gone all Captainy on him and glared, reminding him of what else Natasha had bought with that moment. Of course, Steve had caught the eye roll--he hadn't been looking at Bucky the second before, and his attention had been back on Barton by the second after, but Captain Rogers of the Eye Roll Police had perfect fucking timing. Bucky's attention had stayed on Steve until Barton had talked himself out. Until Steve's hands had gently pushed Barton toward the house, toward sleep, and the comfort of family, and, if he was very lucky, toward healing.
Captain Steven J. Rogers had that effect on people. Bucky would know.
So the light danced across Steve's face, and Bucky couldn't tear his eyes away. He didn't even try.
Long minutes passed, and Bucky listened to the gentle waves lapping at the shore. He listened, too, to the crickets and, beyond them, to the small scurryings of the things that eat crickets and the occasional sharp cries from high above of the things that will eat those scurriers later, sometime deep in the night. Mostly, though, he listened to his breath as it matched with Steve's, to his heartbeat as it slowed and synched with the one against his back, and to the quiet ticking of Steve's watch under the darkening sky.
When the darkness was nearly complete and the only light came at them sideways, distorted and shimmering golden, the last rays skimmed along the surface of the lake and hit the shield at Steve's feet. It reflected up, casting Steve in red, white, and blue.
That riot of color caught in Bucky's throat. It stuck there for a moment, and then he nearly fell off the log laughing. Steve's eyes narrowed, and his red and blue splashed nose wrinkled in confusion, and Bucky gave up the fight entirely and slid down the side of the log, gasping for breath around his guffaws, leaning hard into Steve's legs, practically sitting on Steve's feet.
He didn't notice how wet his eyes were until Steve reached out to brush back his hair and dab at them with a perfectly pressed handkerchief. Steve's arms moved around Bucky's neck, and, when Bucky took the cloth from him, he pulled Bucky in snug between his legs, circling him from behind, sheltering him with his whole (stupidly large) body. Neither of them mentioned Bucky's sobs.
Eventually, Bucky craned his neck to look up. Steve's face was drawn, his eyes filled with unshed tears that drew Bucky. Deep, hiding behind the million doubts that swirled there, was certainty. Bucky heard himself say, "You figured it out, then."
Steve lowered his forehead to rest against Bucky's hair. He said, "Yeah," voice rough, and swallowed loudly before continuing, "Yeah, I guess I have."
The cold left behind when Steve moved an arm away to fumble beside them made Bucky shiver. He closed his eyes and leaned hard into the warmth still behind him to keep the chill from spreading for just a little longer.
When Steve's arm came back, it was only part way. Bucky kept his eyes screwed shut, but they still leaked a little. He didn't mean to shake his head, but he felt his hair catch on Steve's chest.
He refused to look at all until Steve said gently, "Buck, please," and then, of course, open they flew, because Bucky never could deny Steve anything when he used that tone.
The damn shield was in front of Bucky, completely filling his field of view. No lake, no night sky, no Steve--red and white and thrice-damned all-American blue was all Bucky could see until the red haze descended over his eyes.
He jumped up, then, pushing Steve away with a shove as he spun around, a move unfathomable mere seconds before.
"Oh, fuck no!" Bucky said. His voice was louder than he intended, echoing out across the quiet little lake, shocking the crickets into eerie silence and making Captain Oblivious flinch.
Not that that stopped Steve. No, Steve didn't even hesitate, saying, "Buck, if you think you're not..."
"The next word out of your mouth had damn-well better be ready, you asshole," Bucky threatened. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I've had a rough few years, and I haven't had nearly as many as you in between."
Steve looked down at his feet, years and inches seeming to disappear from his frame in a blink, and he sounded so young when he stammered, "I just... I didn't mean.. Buck, you know I..."
When he finally looked back up at Bucky, Steve's eyes were luminous and fierce. "You'd do an incredible job, There's no one I could trust more. With this.
"With anything."
Bucky stared at Steve for a long moment, breath held, memorizing that look, those shining eyes, that shining soul, trying to imprint it all--to imprint Steve--even deeper into his mind (as if he could; as if that was even possible; as if center--core--wasn't by definition as deep as one can go).
His anger dissolved when he finally allowed himself a slow blink, and he melted back down next to Steve on the log. "Yeah," Bucky said, noting his arm had curled around Steve's shoulders, natural as anything. "Yeah, but, Steve..."
"I get it," Steve said, trying out a laugh that turned into a cough halfway through. He bumped his shoulder against Bucky's armpit affably and caught Bucky's eyes again. "I do," he said, so fucking earnest it made Bucky's breath catch all over again.
Clearing his throat and ignoring his traitorous eyes, Bucky tugged a smile across his face, real, but oh-so fragile. "Hey," he asked, rocking deeper into Steve's personal space, "have you decided what year yet?"
Bucky's smile grew stronger (and how could it not? This was Steve, right here beside him, and that was a God-damned miracle no matter how long it lasted), but he still had to clear his throat again before continuing.
"Wait until at least '46, man," Bucky said, snaking his metal fist around to punch Steve gently in the shoulder. "Let her get her feet under her after the war. Last thing you want to do is get in the way of all that amazing."
Steve sighed, and it ruffled warm through Bucky's hair. He wanted to feel it again.
He got up instead.
"Let's go inside, old man," Bucky teased, voice too gentle as he offered Steve a hand up. "I'm freezing, and even America's Ass will get cold if it sits on a wet log long enough." He didn't quite hit the light tone he was aiming for.
"Buck..." And maybe he hadn't even been anywhere near that tone, because Steve pulled him in close for a long hug.
For a while, Bucky let him, burying his nose in Steve's neck and just breathing him in. Finally, Bucky whispered, "You'd better say hi to Peg for me," and Steve squeezed him tighter. When he was allowed to breathe again, Bucky continued, "You tell her..." and stepped back (away, too far away) and put his hands on Steve's shoulders, arms straight.
"Tell her..." he repeated, expression solemn and serious, but the light coming easily to dance in his eyes now, even as he held Steve at arm's width away. "You tell her that I'm real sorry I didn't get to give you away on your big day." He ignored Steve's widening eyes and tamped the laughter out of his voice (but not his eyes) as he continued, "but I did my best on the birds and the bees."
Bucky made it to the house ahead of Steve, but not by enough to save him being tackled to the floor as they reached the living room.
Not a one of Earth's Mightiest Damn Heroes even bothered to look up from their reading.