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For Bucky, it has been three days.
Three days since Steve first showed in Wakanda, rugged from hiding in the shadows. Three days since he’d walked onto that platform and seen him in person for the first time, that sunshine bathing them over despite what was about to happen.
Three days since he’d felt his entire body tingle in the most unnatural way, three days since he’d collapsed to the ground and seen nothing but black. And then suddenly, he was back. He was standing in the same spot, except it was dark. And then everything happened so fast. But they won. They won that battle. And most of them walked out alive.
Most of them.
Of course, it had been Steve who took Bucky in to stay with him. Sam had family, and so did everyone who came back. There were people all around looking for so many of the people who had been affected by this decimation of humanity, that their families wouldn’t let go of them. However...Bucky’s family was already there. And it was one man.
So, he goes home with Steve. They drive the long drive to where Steve has been living, some apartment in upstate New York that’s much nicer than anything they had ever shared together. Bucky and Steve don’t speak much during the drive, and Bucky doesn’t really understand why. Steve had hugged him half-heartedly when he’d finally had a moment to, but Bucky assumed he was busy.
He’s not busy now, but Bucky supposes that he’s still recovering from having Bucky back from the dead again. It seems impossible. Bucky can’t help but think it’s fate. So, they don’t have to talk. Instead, Bucky lets himself admire Steve from the passenger seat, memorizing every piece of his face he didn’t have time to do when they were in Wakanda. He takes note of the way his golden hair falls into his face when he turns his head, the way the sun makes it look like a halo.
He’s never been this happy.
When they get to Steve’s place, he helps Bucky set his stuff in Steve’s room. Steve watches as Bucky explores the bedroom, running his fingers over the framed photos on top of his dresser. There’s not much, but Bucky still admires the photo of the Commandos there, pristine. Beside it are some photos Steve’s clearly taken throughout the years Bucky has been gone, and he feels a lump in his throat when his eyes catch on Natasha laying in the grass of Central Park, her half red and blonde hair spread below her.
Steve clears his throat. Bucky’s head snaps up at him. Steve motions to the kitchen. “You want me to cook something for you?”
Bucky smiles knowingly. “So you can cook now?” He expects Steve to laugh when he says that, understanding the reference to all the times Steve had their apartment evacuated in Brooklyn because of smoke. Instead, Steve shrugs his shoulders. Bucky rolls his eyes. “Sure, bud. I haven’t eaten in five years, remember?”
When Steve leaves the room, Bucky flops back onto Steve’s bed and curls into a little ball on top of the covers, smelling the pillows. They smell like Steve in every way, his overwhelming mixture of whatever cologne he’s using and sleep. Bucky breathes it in, because Skype couldn’t give him this.
When he’s done smelling Steve’s pillows and borrowing one of his sweatshirts, he makes his way to Steve’s kitchen. He wasn’t lying--he can cook now. He’s busy cooking some sort of pasta dish when Bucky walks in, and nods when he sees him.
“Hey, Buck,” Steve says, short. “I’m almost finished.”
Bucky shrugs and makes his way across the kitchen to look over Steve’s shoulder. It feels impossibly close to the things they used to do when they were in Brooklyn together, and Bucky loves it. He reaches his arms around Steve’s waist, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder.
“Smells awesome,” Bucky whispers in Steve’s ear, and Steve breathes in sharply. Before Bucky can do anything else, Steve moves so Bucky’s arms aren’t around him anymore. Bucky raises an eyebrow in confusion, but Steve just shakes his head.
“Sorry,” He apologizes. “It’s just...it’s ready.”
*
That night, when Bucky goes to turn in, Steve tells him he has to take a phone call. Bucky thinks about waiting up for him but decides he’s too tired to do anything but sleep tonight. His bones ache from everything, between the fighting and sitting in Steve’s car for a few hours. So, he just squeezes Steve’s shoulder and heads into Steve’s room.
When Steve finally finishes the call, Bucky is still awake in bed. It takes him a while to sleep now, no matter how tired he is. Steve makes his way to the other side of the bed, and crawls in bedside Bucky in his soft sleep clothes. Bucky flips on his side to look at him, his Steve, so vibrant even in the dark.
“I was on the phone with Tony’s wife, Pepper,” Steve whispers into the darkness. “She said that she would be happy if you came to the funeral tomorrow.”
The breath leaves Bucky’s lungs. “Why would she say that?”
Steve shrugs. “I think she knows more about what Tony thought of you than any of us do. He had nearly a decade to really think about it all. Plus, you’re a hero now.”
The word ‘hero’ lingers in the air like electricity, and Bucky doesn’t know whether or not he believes it yet. He knows a lot of things about himself, but none of them add up to the word hero. He looks back at Steve’s blue eyes, and smiles.
“I missed you,” Bucky whispers back to Steve, reaching his hand out and touching his face. “In Wakanda, I mean. I don’t remember the last few years like you do.” Bucky wants to kiss him, like he’s wanted to since they were reunited.
Steve reaches up to Bucky’s hands on his face and holds his wrist. “I need to talk to you about tomorrow.”
Bucky waits. And Steve lets out a shaky breath.
“I’m going on a mission,” Steve says, and the air leaves Bucky’s lungs. He sits up in the bed, looking down at Steve in anticipation. Steve sighs. “I have to return all the infinity stones to their own timelines. It’s a time travel thing. I volunteered to do it.”
Bucky wants to protest hysterically, but instead he tries to keep his cool and just shakes his head. “Why does it have to be you?”
Steve shrugs. “Come on, Buck. It’s the least I can do.”
Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to let his anger that’s boiling below the surface under control. Of course, he can’t keep every thought to himself. “I figured nearly killing yourself out there was enough.”
Steve presses his lips together, an anger in his eyes that Bucky recognizes well. “It might not mean anything to you, but Tony and Natasha are dead. So, no, it wasn’t enough. But thanks for your input.”
Bucky’s hands are shaking, but he hates when Steve’s angry at him. He reaches out and places a hand on Steve’s forearm, and when Steve looks up at him, he sighs. Bucky bites the inside of his cheek, trying to decide what to say. Finally, he decides on, “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Steve replies, rubbing a hand across his face. “I just have a lot on my mind. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”
Bucky sits back on the bed, and asks the question that’s bubbling up inside of him. “How long will you be gone?”
Steve looks up at him now with his same blue eyes, the same eyes Bucky has known since he was a child. The same eyes he’d seen that day on the bridge, and in the helicarrier. The same eyes who had looked at him with such love and told him that he wasn’t responsible for what he did. The same eyes he sees in his dreams at night, the dreams where he relives their first kiss over and over again. Steve is the center of everything.
Steve looks into his lap. Instead of telling Bucky a direct answer, he chooses his words carefully and says, “Things have changed a lot since you’ve been gone.”
Bucky doesn’t know what that means. Obviously, things have changed, but he doesn’t know what Steve is trying to say. Instead, he just waits. Steve’s eyes look like he’s about to cry. Out of Steve’s bedside drawer, he unearths something from the mess of sketchbooks and books. A compass.
And then Steve tells him what he’s planning to do, a secret he’s kept from Bruce and Sam and every other person in his life. A plan that makes Bucky want to wretch forward and throw up. Bucky’s blood runs cold as Steve explains seeing Peggy Carter during his mission and knowing that he’d never be happy if he didn’t have Peggy in his arms again. And Bucky is breathless at the feeling, this feeling of abandonment. He’s never felt so alone with someone sitting next to him.
If his hands were shaking before, it’s different now. He feels like he’s going to fall through the floor. He thinks about Steve’s warm embrace, thinks about the feeling of when he’d kissed Bucky for the first time, only a year ago for Bucky.
“What about me?” Is all Bucky replies, selfish as ever. Steve’s face twists in pain, like he wishes Bucky hadn’t said it. He reaches out and tries to touch Bucky’s cheek, but Bucky pulls back.
“Buck,” Steve whispers hoarsely. “You have to understand. Love makes you do crazy things.”
Bucky feels the lump in his throat forming, feels himself spinning into a downward spiral. Yeah, He thinks. I know it does. I know it led me into battle behind you a hundred times over, I know it meant I worked three jobs when you were in art school so we could afford our apartment. I know all about love, Steve. Every crazy thing I’ve done has been because of love.
“Buck,” Steve tries again, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Bucky, you have a home here. I’m leaving you this apartment, everything. Sam’s here. The rest of the Avengers are here. Everyone in Wakanda is behind you.”
Bucky feels angry hot tears running down his face. “Those people aren’t you.” He hates that he’s crying, while Steve is stone-faced and rational. He hates that this isn’t breaking Steve apart, that this isn’t time or HYDRA or all the horrible things that have torn them apart. This is worse. This is a choice.
“I love her,” Steve tries to explain. “I can’t leave her behind.”
Bucky wipes his tears, recoiling back. “Do you love me?”
Steve looks at Bucky. “Of course I love you.”
“So,” Bucky’s voice is shaking with heartbreak and rage. “You’ll leave me?”
Steve shakes his head, the anger showing in his face. “You’re safe here. I’ve made sure of it.”
“Well, Steve, that’s sweet of you!” Bucky snaps, bitter and still crying. “You’re so sweet, setting up my affairs for me. Is Carter suddenly not safe? Didn’t she marry someone, and have kids? What about me is so worth leaving?”
Steve doesn’t reply. Bucky clenches his jaw.
“If not me,” Bucky whispers. “What about Sam? Or any other person who cares about you? What about them? Don’t you care?”
Steve looks back at Bucky seriously. “Bucky,” His voice comes through the darkness in a way that sounds like he’s squeezing every word out. “I saw her. In front of me. I could do it all over again. I could leave this life of not knowing behind, stop feeling helpless. Because I’ll know we’re safe. I won’t have to worry anymore.”
Bucky’s breathless at the words. He doesn’t know the Steve sitting in front of him anymore. This is a Steve broken by the passing of time, a Steve who is afraid. And Bucky doesn’t know what to do or say to him, doesn’t know who he can be. There’s nothing Bucky can do that will prevent bad things from happening. That’s a dealbreaker.
“I love you,” Bucky whispers through his tears, last resort. It’s not something they haven’t said before, but Bucky finds himself wanting to retreat into himself like a bomb shelter after saying the words, letting them roll off his tongue to fill the space in the room.
“I’ll always love you, Bucky. I just love her.” He doesn’t say the word ‘more’, but Bucky hears them anyway. And all of it is breaking his heart. He wants Steve to stay for him, but he’s made up his mind. There’s nothing to be argued. Steve’s moved on, even while Bucky is holding tight with white knuckles.
“C’mere,” Steve commands, and Bucky hesitates as he holds his arms open. “Tonight can be different.”
Bucky has half a mind to say no, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He loves him with a fire in his chest, something he doesn’t know will ever be extinguished. He aches to have Steve hold him, aches for the safety of Steve’s arms and his breath on Bucky’s neck.
So, they lay alone in Steve’s bed, silent and Bucky wonders if Steve can hear his heart cracking apart under it all. Bucky closes his eyes, but he can’t sleep through this. He can’t let this moment give way to sleep and dreams. He wants to cherish every moment, and he does, even after Steve falls asleep with his arm around Bucky’s waist.
*
(That night, as Bucky listens to Steve sleep, he recalls the last time he’d made love with him. He doesn’t want to think about it, but it slips into his mind anyway. He thinks about the way Steve interlocked his fingers with Bucky’s, the words he’d whispered in his ear.
“I love you,” Steve had said, his voice like honey dripping off his lips, taunting at Bucky’s sweet tooth. “It’ll never be anyone but you.”
And Bucky had believed him, had trusted him. Looking back, he should have known better. Steve had chosen Peggy before, a lifetime ago. It had broken Bucky’s heart once, but he thought he was mended, he thought he was safe.
Laying in his bed, heart aching, he thinks himself foolish.)
*
There is a lake at Stark’s funeral, something Bucky looks over when Steve’s sitting beside him. His face is worn with age, completely weathered away with a life of happiness and love and children and sex and food and travel and Peggy Carter. And Bucky is the same person he was seconds ago, broken-hearted and resigned to this constant limbo of losing. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever find anything else but that.
“Do you regret it?” Bucky asks, his voice shaking. “Did you ever wonder about me?”
Steve reaches over and touches Bucky’s shoulder and looks at him with those same blue eyes. Vibrant as ever. Artist eyes. He smiles at Bucky. “I didn’t have to. The Bucky in that timeline...he never fell off the train. He lived his life. I knew you were safe.”
Bucky feels so alien next to Steve, live this isn’t the person he loves. All the implications under Steve’s words are picking him apart. That Bucky was safe before the conditioning and horrors of HYDRA. That Bucky never killed Howard and Maria Stark. That Bucky…
“What happened to him?” Bucky blurts out, finding it strange he’s talking about himself. But a different self.
Steve shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “Oh, I don’t know. We lost touch.”
Bucky recoils back at his words. Steve looks up at him with that smile that’s Steve’s but it’s not. And Bucky knows he needs to get out of here, can’t do this anymore. He knows that Sam is inside, admiring the shield and waiting for Bucky so they can drive to Sam’s parents and stay there. That’s where he wants to be, away from Steve.
And he walks away.