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He watched as Steve walked up to the platform. He watched as Steve set down the hammer (of course, Steve was worthy). He watched as Steve took one last look at him. Bucky knew it would be a long while before Steve saw him again, but for Bucky, it would only be a matter of minutes before he would see Steve again. Wrinkled and fading and at the end of his line, but still Steve.
A few nights after Tony had died, Steve asked Bucky if he had a few minutes to spare. He told Bucky to sit down on the bed in his plush hotel room, Steve took the desk chair, and he just looked at the ground for a few long minutes before Bucky freaked out enough to start talking himself.
“Hey, I don’t know what this is about, but I sure would like to know why you look like you’ve just seen a ghost because-”
“I’m not coming back.” Bucky’s heart leapt out of his throat. He didn’t know what that meant, exactly, but he had a fairly good idea and with the way Steve still wasn’t meeting his eyes, it made Bucky expect the worst.
“What’re you talking about?” Bucky tried to smile, act an idiot, but even with his Winter Soldier acting practice he didn’t think he was too convincing. “The fight’s done, Steve, there’s nothing left to come back from.”
The floor must’ve been the most interesting thing in the world because Steve kept studying it like he was cramming for a final before he said, “I’m tired, Buck. I’ve been fighting the good fight for the last 70 years. I’ve been thinking a lot about life, my life, and the life I never got to have.” Steve looked up from the floor for the first time since they started talking. Bucky knew what he meant, of course he did. He knew Steve better than anyone else on the goddamn planet. There were people he never got to wrap things up with the way he wanted to. Dances he never got to have. Steve, always the optimist, always the romantic. “With these Pym particles I can have the life I never did. I’m sorry, I really am, but what kinda life can I have here?”
Bucky didn’t say anything right away. He didn’t want to let Steve know how much of what he was saying stung Bucky to his very core. He knew that Steve had a soft spot for Peggy, and Steve told him about seeing her walking and talking back in the 70s, which did really seemed to get to him, but going back for her? Giving up everything for her? It didn’t feel like Steve. What he wanted to say was, “You can have a life with me and Sam and the other Avengers and everything will be okay, I promise it will, buddy, just stay with me,” or “Do you really think your dumbass can just rest easy? Steve ‘I can do this all day’ Rogers? How are you going to live with yourself knowing Hydra’s out there? Knowing I’m out there?” or “I thought you were with me ‘til the end of the line, Stevie.” But he couldn’t say anything at all. He was frozen in his body. Numb and hollow.
Steve waited another minute, “You don’t have to say anything, Buck. It’d be nice if you did, but,” Steve trailed off. Eyes right back on the floor.
“If that’s what’ll make you happy, pal, who am I to stop you?” That’s not what he wanted to say. He didn’t know why he said it, actually. But it was the truth, in parts. All Bucky has ever wanted was for Steve to be happy. When he was sick and wishing his body would stop being so difficult, Bucky would be there with a smile and a story and a joke and anything it took to get Steve laughing again. When he was starving right out of high school, Bucky did everything in his power to make sure the boy got everything he deserved, made sure he never felt lonely or hungry or scared. When he was bruised and bloody fresh out of a fight, Bucky would be there to say, “Wouldn’t wanna be the other guy right now,” and clean him up good enough to be seen in front of the neighbors. Bucky’s purpose for nearly a century has been to make sure Steve is okay. Even if he wasn’t fully in charge, he would drag him out of the water. And if this is what was going to make him happy, Bucky didn’t want to ruin that by being selfish, he really didn’t.
Steve looked up at Bucky, sad, maybe a little disappointed. “I don’t know what’ll make me happy, but I’m hoping there’s more of a life for me there than what I can have here.” Steve paused again. He looked like he was about to say something else, but he stopped to recompose. “You and Sam and everyone else. You have something I don’t. You have your whole life ahead of you, Buck, but I’m stuck in the past. They’re people I can’t get over. Some of ‘em I might be able to make right with.” He looked away from Bucky, again. “Some I can’t.”
Bucky didn’t know who all he was talking about. Peggy, sure, but who else was there to make right with? Steve had him in the palm of his hand, he always did. All he had to do was say the word and Bucky would kneel on command. He guessed that didn’t make much of a difference to Steve, though. He thought he knew. He thought Steve knew how much weaker he got whenever Steve walked into a room. How Bucky didn’t care about anything else than the person who was right in from of him.
He didn’t want Steve to keep talking about all this. He didn’t really want to hear about his new life with Peggy or how Steve didn’t have anything left here. Maybe he was being selfish, but, fuck, he was allowed to be the selfish one because Steve was supposed to be carrying all the good with him.
Steve kept his eyes trained on that goddamn floor, and, after awhile, Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He got up from the bed. Steve followed soon after. They were face to face, Bucky standing a little lower than Steve, which still felt new despite Steve not being shorter than him since the 1940s. Steve looked Bucky in the eye for the second time tonight. Bucky couldn’t read him. All his time learning how to read people, how to read Steve, and he still couldn’t figure out what was going through his head.
There was a lot more Bucky needed to say, should have said, but none of it felt right. He just looked at Steve for a long time. Really looked at him, all big and strong and worthy and sad. He couldn’t make Steve happy all by himself. He’s not who Steve needed. He thought he could be, for a long time he thought Steve felt what Bucky felt, but he must not have.
“Wherever you go, you’ll do what’s right.”
Steve’s composure flickered for a second. One second of vulnerability. One second of hope that Steve wouldn’t do it. One second of the punk from Brooklyn. One second that Bucky could live in forever. Then, he turned back on. Righteous and grand. Captain America. “At least I know I’ll be leaving the present in good hands.” Steve tried to smile. Bucky tried to smile, too. Neither of them could.
“Yeah, well, it’ll be easier not having to carry your dumb ass all the time,” Bucky tried to tease Steve, regain some normalcy, but it felt hollow. Steve halved a smile. It was worth the effort.
“Too bad they’ll still have to carry yours,” Steve looked like he didn’t mean it, either. Like he still had more to say. Bucky didn’t want to press. They never had been good at goodbyes. They never needed to be. When they were kids, they only left each other for a few hours at a time. Always with the knowledge the other would be there in the morning to talk about a new comic book or how they were going to save the world one day or what kind of dames they think they could score a date with. They’d always come back to each other, always. But this time, Bucky didn’t think a goodbye would be enough.
Bucky took Steve’s hand in his flesh one. “Even when I had nothing, I had you, Steve.” He gave his hand a quick squeeze. Bucky tried not to wince. Steve looked close to tears, but it wasn’t the time for that. Bucky had a million more things to say, so much unfinished business. He’d just got Steve back, and he was leaving, again. This time, by choice. It all felt so out of character. Steve let go of Bucky’s hand to pat him on the shoulder. “You should get to bed, big day tomorrow.”
Bucky didn’t like the look Steve gave him. It was like this new, family man Steve was holding his lil punk hostage. Like he knew this isn’t right, but he was going to do it anyway. It was new look for Steve. He always did the right thing, or what he thought was the right thing, no matter what. “Goodnight, Buck.”
Bucky started to walk out the door, but Steve stopped him right before he put his foot into the hallway. “Do you remember when we were in our first apartment - right before your ma died, and we’d put our beds together in the winter?”
Oh, he remembered. Bucky nodded, and smiled, a real smile, “Your feet’d always hit me in the middle of the night and you’d wake me up with how freezin’ your toes were.” Steve laughed. “That’s when you were still bony as all hell and fragile. I always felt like I could’ve broken you.”
Bucky thought back on those nights. He remembered one, strongest of all. Sometime in mid-January of 1938, he thinks, and the snow just wouldn’t stop falling. The world had practically stopped in the midst of the snow storm, and when night came, but the heat didn’t, Bucky had decided it would be in their best interest to keep warm together. They shared a room, anyway, might as well put their bodies to good use.
“I don’t need you keepin’ me warm, Buck, I’d be fine on my own,” Steve said, wrapping his arms closer around his torso to keep his 5 layers of shirt as close as possible to his body.
Bucky kept pushing Steve’s bed across their cracking floorboards. “Who said anything about me keeping you warm? You’re my furnace for the night, Rogers.” Bucky flashed a smile over his back at Steve, inadvertently flexing his bicep, knowing it would make Steve roll his eyes.
Steve rolled his eyes. “I’ll go make some tea,” He walked the five steps into the kitchen before yelling, “Do you want any?”
“No, thanks, sugar, you’re already sweet enough for me,” Bucky laughed to himself as Steve groaned. Steve hated when Bucky talked sweet on him. Said it made him feel like one of the girls Bucky would go out with whenever he had a night free and Bucky thought Steve could take care of himself. Bucky liked to, though, because sometimes it would make Steve’s checks flush pink, and he thought that it was the best thing in the goddamn universe.
Once Bucky finished pushing together the beds and fixing all the sheets, he walked into the kitchen where Steve was brewing a nice cup of chamomile. “I bet lots of fellas would kill for a dame like you,” Bucky said, knowing it would annoy Steve.
Steve held back a smile, “What? One who talks back and always looks ready to be put six feet under? Sounds like every man’s dream.”
The dim light in the kitchen made the shadows on Steve’s face stand out. He looked so young, so innocent, so happy. Even with the biggest pain in his ass (his words, not Bucky’s) constantly pestering him, he looked like he was on top of the world. Bucky smiled at Steve, pulling out his lady killer, “Depends on what fella you’re askin’,” Bucky shot a wink at Steve, and there it was, his infamous flush.
“Stop bein’ a sap and get to bed,” Steve said, sipping his tea, “Don’t you got an early shift tomorrow?”
Bucky moved across the counter to grab the cup out of Steve’s hand to take a sip, “Maybe, but that can’t stop me from enojoyin’ the scenery,” Steve grabbed the cup from Bucky, wiping off the area where his mouth had been.
“I would’ve made you your own cup, y’know.” Steve said, annoyed and satisfied.
Bucky shook his head, “Wanted yours.”
Steve took a big gulp before saying, “You’re the biggest pain in my ass, you know that?” He started washing out his cup, looking over his shoulder at Bucky for his rebuttal.
“I’ve been told,” Bucky laughed to himself before walking back into the bedroom. He settled in a bit before calling to Steve, “What’s taking my furnace so long?”
Steve walked into the room, kicking off his shoes and socks before getting into bed with Bucky. “Had to wash your stink off the cup.” Bucky starts a laugh which turns into a yawn. Steve kicked him a little with his ice toes as he tried to get comfortable. “Goodnight, Buck.”
“Goodnight, punk.” Bucky didn’t bother rolling over to face away from Steve. They kept their distance for the time being, but Bucky knew well enough that they would end up wrapped around each other, Steve tucked square into Bucky’s neck with his arms keeping Bucky’s in place around him. He never remembered getting there, but he certainly didn’t mind it when he woke up.
Steve slipped off fairly quickly, but Bucky couldn’t shut his head up. He kept looking at Steve in the sliver of moonlight that came in through their window. He kept trying to memorize Steve’s face. How his cheeks sunk in a little, how his eyes closed so delicately, how his mouth fell open with little pants of breath right on Bucky’s chest. Steve was perfect, it was as simple as that. He couldn’t dare forget him, not ever.
“I never thought you’d still be there when I woke up,” Steve said, eyes meeting Bucky’s across the dim light of his hotel room.
Bucky shook his head, “You really are dumber than you look, Steve.”
Steve’s eyebrows furled for a moment. He was still perfect, Bucky thought, dumb and reckless and a thousand times bigger, but as perfect as any time he could remember (and he could remember quite a bit, now). For a second, just a second, he thought maybe he should tell Steve. If this was his last night with him, his last real night with him, maybe he should tell Steve that he’s perfect. That he’s the prettiest thing Bucky’s ever laid his eyes on. That he’s so goddamn stupid perfect that Bucky couldn’t imagine a world without Steve Rogers, not one that’s worth living in, anyway.
But he didn’t say any of that. He couldn’t. After 90 years of this, it still didn’t feel right. There wasn’t a word that existed, or at least one that Bucky knew, that could tell Steve how much he was feeling. And he didn’t think it was worth it, anyway. Peggy would make a good wife. Loving, compassionate, fiery, killer shot. She was the total package. Who was Bucky to get in the way of that?
Bucky looked at Steve, again. Memorizing him one last time. He was bigger now, much bigger, but he thought he might still be able to fit between his jaw and the start of his chest. Thought his breath might come out the same, not as jittery, though, probably a bit more solid and whole. His jaw had filled out, too. Looked good. He looked real good. He was every bit as perfect as Bucky thought he was, no matter how many times he stared. The wonder never went away.
“Bucky, I-” He cut himself off. It seemed like there was so much more he wanted to say, but, really what else is there? Tomorrow, he’ll be gone. Lost for 70 years, then returned too late. He’ll have lived a life by tomorrow afternoon. A wife, a picket fence, two little scamps running around the yard, what more could you ask for?
Right after Steve had brought Bucky back from the Hydra camp, Bucky managed to steal him away from the press and the generals and the whole of the American public for a few seconds. They’d gotten a few drinks, and, of course, Steve couldn’t get drunk anymore, and Bucky was slowly starting the think maybe he couldn’t either. Steve didn’t know that, though, so when Bucky started asking questions, it felt a little more acceptable.
“When this is all over,” Bucky started, a little tingle had started to fill his spine after nearly 4 drinks, “do you still want to be Captain America?”
Steve sloshed what was left of his drink around his cup. “I don’t know.” He meant it. It wasn’t what Bucky was looking for, but he knew that it was probably the best Steve could do. “I can’t imagine not being him, now.” He stopped again. Steve loved that. Thinking about what he was going to say. He looked at Bucky. “This doesn’t feel like a job that you can get out of.”
“Yeah, but if you could. Would you?” Bucky put started gesturing, somewhat wildly, “You know, the wife, the kids, all of that - do you think you could just do that? After all this?”
Steve raised his eyebrows. Bucky couldn’t read him. He was starting to feel the alcohol kicking in, or maybe that was just his imagination. He knew he wanted to be drunk right now. Drunk enough to tell Steve things he shouldn’t. He wished he could’ve gotten that drunk.
“No.” Steve said, clear as day. “There’ll always be another bully, and I don’t think I could live with myself knowing I could’ve helped someone and I didn’t.”
Bucky smiled. He hadn’t been able to manage a smile, a full on Bucky Barnes smile, since he left Zola’s chair, but this might have been the closest he could get. “No matter how much shit they pump into you, you’ll always be that little punk from Brooklyn.”
Steve smiled, too, right back at Bucky. They were beaming like absolute fools. Bucky started to feel drunk on this alone. He was still getting used to this new Steve, but he started thinking no one could change what really mattered about Steve. He was too goddamn stubborn for that.
“You better watch your language. Remember, it’s Captain America you’re talking to.” Bucky bumped his shoulder into Steve’s. His arms didn’t feel like moving. Steve bumped back, nearly knocking Bucky off his stool. Steve caught him, arm around his back. He kept it there, one beat, two beats. Bucky looked at Steve. Steve’s mouth fell open and little pants of breath fell onto Bucky’s face. His eyes were wide, pupils blow out, only a little ring of bright blue in their wake. Bucky thought he could die right then and there.
“Does Captain America know he’s got the prettiest mouth this side of the Atlantic?” Bucky couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t know how Steve would react - they hadn’t talked like this, like they used to, since before Bucky shipped off.
Steve stayed right where he was. Bucky thanked every God out there for that. “You’ve gotta stop treatin’ me like one of your girls, Buck.” Steve’s hand got a little tighter on Bucky’s arm.
Bucky’s eyes were still locked on Steve’s. Steve’s eyes trailed down to Bucky’s mouth. Bucky wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew he didn’t want it to stop. “Can’t help that you’re irresistible.”
Steve raised his eyebrows, pulling Bucky the tiniest bit closer, “Oh, am I?” He didn’t know if he leaned in first or if Steve. It didn’t matter. Bucky felt like he was in heaven. Maybe he died in Zola’s lab and this is what heaven was like. Finally getting Steve.
Or maybe it wasn’t. “Steve? Captain Rogers?” The voice came from behind the closed pub door. It gave them enough time to pull away. At least Bucky still had enough sense to situate himself before both he and Steve got kicked out of the forces.
Steve stuck on his best Captain America face, all bright and innocent and patriotic, to say, “In here!” One of the blonde girls who worked for the general came in, Bucky thought he recognized her. Steve stood up as she walked in. So Bucky did, albeit a lot dizzier than he imagined Steve was.
“Agent Carter has requested to meet with you.” The girl purred, eyes fixed on Steve. “Says it’s important. I can walk you there.”
Steve shot Bucky an apologetic look. “Sounds great, Lorraine. I just need to finish up with Sergeant Barnes.”
Lorraine looked at Bucky like she was just noticing his revolting presence. “I’ll wait outside, Captain.” She flashed a smile at Steve one more time before leaving.
When the door shut, Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand to give it a squeeze. He pulled Bucky in close, and whispered, “I’ll find you once I’m done, alright?”
He nodded against Steve’s face. The only feeling he cared about was Steve’s hand in his and Steve’s breath on his neck. Steve let go of Bucky’s hand, walking towards the door. He put his hand on the handle before turning around to say, “Sergeant,” with a wink and a grin that could’ve eaten Bucky whole.
Bucky, for what is was worth, shot back a, “Captain,” with a little salute and a smirk.
Steve opened the door, immediately enthralled in conversation with Lorraine. Bucky wasn’t worried about her. All he could think about was the promise Steve had made for him when he got back. Except, when he did find Bucky again it was to tell him that they were leaving for a mission to the Southern shores of Italy. Hydra action.
He never got to keep that promise. And now Steve was telling Bucky that he’d never see him again. That after all these years of searching and waiting and finally, finally having each other again, it was all over. Bucky had never lived a life without Steve - not a real one, anyway.
“You don’t have to explain it to me, Steve.” Bucky said, after a long pause. He wanted to be honest. Really honest. Tell Steve about everything. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet.
There was unfinished business, they both knew that. Bucky couldn’t tell if Steve knew what kind of business needed finishing, though. Steve kept messing with his hands, nervous. Bucky wondered what else Steve needed to say. He wondered why he was leaving at all, not that he would ask that. Steve never seemed to be able to shake an idea once he put it in his head. All those times Steve stuck his neck out just for Bucky, all those times Steve stuck his neck out to do the right thing. Why was he giving it all up now? What changed?
It wasn’t long before Bucky moved over to Steve. He wasn’t sure what came over him. All the memories of the could haves were flooding his system and he didn’t want this to be on that list. Steve just stayed where he was on the bed, eyebrows furled like he had a bad puzzle that needed solving. Bucky pulled Steve to his feet, hand in hand again. Bucky reached up with his metal hand to pull Steve’s forehead to his. Innocent. Intimate. It said all Bucky needed it to.
“I’ve got a lot of regrets,” Bucky said, eyes trained on their interlocked hands, “I just don’t want you to be one of them.”
He didn’t say anything else. Steve could take that how he wanted it. Bucky wasn’t sure what he meant by it entirely. He never thought Steve would be the one who got away. They’d been picking each other over everything else for as long as Bucky could remember, and now that it wasn’t happening he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. All these years of loving Steve (whatever that meant), now he was about to lose him. And it hurt.
Steve closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Buck.” Bucky nodded.
There was nothing left to say.
After a couple moments like that, Bucky left. They didn’t say anything else after that. Bucky walked the couple feet to his own hotel room where he was expected to sleep knowing what tomorrow would bring. A bit of a pipe dream, if you asked him.
He kept thinking about Steve. Things he could have done differently. It didn’t matter what he called what he and Steve had, as long as they had something. Now it felt like maybe it had all been in Bucky’s head. He couldn’t shake the thought that he messed this up somehow. He hadn’t told Steve how he felt soon enough, or maybe Steve just never felt the same way. No, Bucky thought, he had to feel it, too. He just had to.
They’d kissed before. Bucky remembered it, vaguely. He’d gotten pretty drunk one night when he and Steve were poorer than they had ever been. Getting hammered had been their last ditch attempt to wash away the bad feelings. It was close to when Bucky enlisted, not that either of them knew that at the time. They were sat on the floor of their cramped living room, watching the lights flicker outside their window. Bucky was messing with some string from their tattered rug in his left hand.
Steve started giggling out of nowhere. Bucky looked over, slowly, not to make his head spin too fast. “What’re you laughing about?” Bucky tried to keep his words separate, but he wasn’t sure he did too great.
“Why do you always talk to me like you wanna take me out?” Steve asked, still smiling. His question was purely innocent, informational. “You know, how you call me doll and tell me I’m your best girl, why do you do that?”
Bucky flushed a little, but he was too gone to get completely embarrassed. He’d never thought about it. He guessed it was because Steve was his best girl. No one ever got him like Steve did. Bucky could spend a lifetime with Steve and not get bored for a single second. Isn’t that what to look for in a dame? Pretty and smart and someone to keep you on your toes? That just summed up Steve.
Still, Bucky knew he had to put on the charm. He smiled, wide and cheeky, “Steve, I think you’re the best girl I’m ever gonna get, that’s why.”
Steve’s eyebrows quirked up a little bit, but not too much; it was a pain to think too hard. A long moment passed, but Steve ended up smiling just as big as Bucky. “If I’m your best girl, then why not treat me like one?”
Now it was Bucky’s turn to raise his eyebrows. He knew what Steve was insinuating - even in the state he was in. In a haze, he thought he reached over for Steve to bring him closer. They smiled together, cheek to cheek. “All you had to do was ask, doll.”
And that was it. Bucky put his lips on Steve’s. It was different, kissing a guy. Less soft, maybe a little more chapped. Steve didn’t have the practice that some of the girls he went after had, but he sure made up for it in enthusiasm. Besides, he was kissing Steve. He’d’ve taken anything he could get.
They sat there for a good hour. Kissing and giggling and getting to know each other a little better. They didn’t do anything past kissing, though. Bucky thought it was rude to put out on the first date, anyway. He didn’t feel like they needed to rush things. He could’ve stayed in that room forever, kissing Steve and having Steve kiss him back. Listening to Steve’s breathing getting rougher and rougher and Bucky pulled more of Steve in to taste. It was one of the best decisions Bucky’s ever made, to kiss Steve.
After awhile, Steve started falling asleep on him. Bucky made the executive decision to put him to bed. He didn’t have a hard time carrying him or anything (being 95 lbs of pure bone and all), but he thought it was cute the way Steve kept stumbling over his own feet, leaning on Bucky for help with little yawns escaping his lips ever couple of seconds. Bucky set Steve down in his bed, tucking him in all nice and neat. Bucky leaned down to plant a kiss on Steve’s forehead before he said goodnight, but Steve had intercepted him with his lips instead.
“Hey, Buck,” Steve whispered, lips paper width apart, “promise me this meant something to you?”
He sounded so vulnerable, so beautiful. Bucky almost melted on the spot. “Of course, pal. How could it not?” Steve’s eyes blew so wide Bucky thought his pupils might bleed out into his irises. Bucky seized the opportunity to give him one last kiss on the forehead before heading over to his own bed. Overall, not a bad way to spend the night.
The next morning brought headaches and nausea and the uncertainty of whether or not the night before would go on record. Steve was already up and at em by the time Bucky rolled out of bed, making eggs and toast, looking like a doll in his pajama bottoms in front of their little stovetop. Bucky, without thinking, planted a kiss onto Steve’s checks bringing up his favorite pink flush.
“What was that for?” Steve asked, flipping the eggs in the pan.
Bucky smacked his ass, “Being my best girl.” Steve shot a look over his shoulder, which prompted Bucky to shoot a wink back. Same old routine, now with some added bonuses.
That repertoire continued for the next few weeks, until Bucky got his details and Steve tried so hard to get his. One of Bucky’s coworkers down at the docks had set him up on a date with his one of his prettier sisters the night before Bucky shipped out. He wanted so badly to say no, to spend the night with Steve and Steve alone, but it wouldn’t have looked great to turn it down. So, he set up a double date and hoped Steve would understand.
Then, the war came. Steve changed. Bucky changed, too. They didn’t talk about what they did right before it started. They haven’t since. Bucky wondered now if maybe they should’ve talked about it.
And now Steve was gone. Bucky stood, eyes lingering on where Steve’s body had just been. Somewhere, distant, he could hear Banner counting down the seconds until Steve wouldn’t return. He didn’t know how Sam hadn’t noticed Bucky’s quiet this morning. Or Steve’s sad eyes turning away from his for what would be the last time in 90 years. Banner tried and failed to get Steve back. The ten seconds were up. Steve was gone.
It took all Bucky had to keep from crying. He couldn’t even remember the last time he cried, and now a good ol’ fashion sob was looking mighty fine. Sam looked at him, beginning to understand. Bucky just shrugged, grimace set square on his face. It couldn’t be changed now. The world had just lost Captain America.
Banner was shouting something to Sam, but Bucky wasn’t paying any attention. He thinks they figured out what happened. Bucky felt a ton of bricks settle into the pit of his stomach. He thought it would take more than he could give to get them out.
Sam walked over to where Bucky was standing, unmoving, “Did you know about this?”
“Yeah.” That was all Bucky could say. Sam nodded. He walked over to Banner, probably debriefing him what he could piece together of the situation. What else is there, Bucky thought, what else matters? Steve is gone and he’s not coming back.
The lights on the platform switched back on. Bucky looked over at Banner, trying to see if he had touched anything. Banner stepped back from his workstation, hands in the air. Sam’s eyes were fixed on the platform. Bucky didn’t think this was their doing.
The center began to flicker, then one Steve Rogers landed square in the middle. He was breathing heavy, and maybe he looked a little older, but nothing like the crippled old man Bucky was expecting.
Bucky rushed up to Steve, keeping him standing as he tried to regain his breathing. Steve couldn’t take his eyes off Bucky. He hadn’t said a word yet, but Bucky couldn’t take any chances. He grabbed Steve’s jaw, still recovering, and pressed their mouths together. Steve didn’t resist. He sunk deeper into Bucky’s arms, wrapping them around him to keep himself steady.
He pulled away slowly, eyes creeping open to make sure Steve didn’t go anywhere. To stay in that moment for as long as he could. Steve smiled up at Bucky from where he slumped in his arms.
“Hi,” Steve said, voice booming.
Bucky shook his head, “Aren’t you supposed to be on life support?”
Steve flushed pink (just how Bucky liked), “Couldn’t live a life full of regrets.”
Sam jumped onto the platform, eyeing up Bucky and Steve and their less than innocuous reunion. “Is there any particular reason you decided to give all of us a heart attack just to get with your super soldier boyfriend? I’m not mad - I’m just asking.”
Steve unwrapped himself from Bucky to give Sam a well deserved hug. When they broke apart all Steve could say was, “I didn’t realize this was an option.”
Sam looked like he could smack him, “Man, you really are dumber than you look, aren’t you?”
Bucky laughed, sparkling and bright, almost like he used to. “I’ve been saying that for 90 years.”
“There’s a whole lot of dumbass on this platform right now.” Sam said, looking between him and Steve. “Why don’t we talk about what took you so long somewhere that’s not a time machine?”
As they walked off, Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand and didn’t let go. Not ever again.
________
Steve couldn’t get out of his own head long enough to focus on his mission: putting the stones back. The chat he had with Bucky last night, or in the future, or never if you thought about it too hard, went better than he expected, but the things Bucky had said sent Steve’s mind into a frenzy. He didn’t think Bucky remembered. He thought Bucky wouldn’t want him now. He thought that Hydra had wiped away all the soft parts. He thought Bucky wouldn’t be interested anymore.
And he was so tired of fighting. Things had gotten so complicated, so frustrating with these new rules and all this red tape. He wished he could just go back to a time where his love life wasn’t shattered and broken and confusing and people couldn’t be snapped away and the biggest threat were the Nazis. Simpler times.
Expect he was starting to suspect he never wanted that at all. Who was he kidding? His new perfect life hadn’t even started yet and he was already thinking about all the trouble he could get into. He’d have to save Bucky, for starters. And he’d have to keep Hydra out of SHIELD. The break he wanted was looking more and more unachievable by the minute.
He’d put back four of the six infinity stones. Next stop: Camp Lehigh to return the tesseract and the mind stone. There’d been no major problems in these return visits so far. Their younger doubles had stirred up most of the attention, allowing Steve to slip in and slip out with minimal damage control. He’d had ample time to think about his plan, how he was gonna go about it. He’d steal one more dose of Pym particles from Lehigh. To go home.
After he set down the tesseract, he couldn’t help himself from traveling down the corridor to where he knew Peggy’s office to be. He’d caught a glimpse of her when he was here the first time, but he thought maybe he’d be able to see her here and now before going off to find her in the 40s. He got halfway to her office before he watched as she stepped out, gorgeous as ever, to greet a man he hadn’t seen before. The man leaned down to kiss her on the cheek before reaching for her briefcase. Peggy handed it to him, not because she needed to, but because he offered.
The couple walked in the opposite direction of Steve. He guessed that would be the husband. She looked happy, Steve thought, really happy. She’d been beaming the moment she left her office with that man. Steve couldn’t break that up. He felt stupid to think that was ever a good idea. Peggy was never his. He’d given that up when he put the plane in the water. She’d found the right partner, and he was starting to think he’d already found his, too.
That’s when he decided to go back. Everything he wanted, a life, a retirement, it’d all be waiting for him when he got back. He’d have everyone he needed right there. What kind of life would he have with Peggy, anyway? Knowing what he did? There were people he could still make right with back home. He thought it wouldn’t hurt to try.
He landed back on the platform, out of breath and a little motion sick. The pleasures of time travel. He hadn’t even gotten his footing before Bucky’s mouth was on his and he was experiencing the best kiss of his life. Guess he wouldn’t have to try too hard, after all.