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He would need to get the shield repainted – again. He looked at the metal disc before him as he dressed in the locker room at the Avengers compound. The room was empty, glass and chrome and as cold in atmosphere. Gone were the days of yesterday, of wood and soft lighting. It is all glass, metal and harshness. He supposed since it was a place of work, of spies and espionage, but he had been in hospitals and morgues with more warmth than this building had. He looked at the wound on his midsection from a stray bullet. It had taken everything could give to make sure the mission hadn’t gone south and it had been no small miracle that it hadn’t.
He looked in the mirror as he left, he looked like he had been through hell. Steve rolled his shoulders, this last mission had been rough, and he didn’t really want to talk about it. People had died and no matter what side they were on, they were someone’s family, and nothing could erase that after the dust settled.
If he was honest all he wanted was home. The warmth of familiarity, his music from his youth playing as he would make dinner for himself, the television he would sit in front of as he ate. His bed as he tried to quiet his soul and his mind in the hopes of exhaustion taking him into sleep. He picked up the socks from his locker and rolled them on his feet, wiggling them once on – that new socks feeling making him smile. There had been a time when socks were a luxury for him, especially after his mom had died. He supposed that was a plus side to living in the 21st century.
Picking up the shield he slung it onto his back, and only the magnetic holder that would allow him to ride his bike home. The corridor was almost empty, except for one figure.
“Steve,” the redheaded Natasha called to him as he walked past her.
“Not tonight Nat.” Weariness was telling in his voice. He couldn’t face hanging out with anyone from the team. Not tonight
She read the terrain of his body and saw how much this last mission had taken on him. They had barely made it home, it was barely a success. He shrugged and walked on to the elevator.
“Have a good night, Steve, see you in the morning,” she gently, knowingly.
Watching from one of the many windows of the main building Natasha frowned as she saw Steve’s motorcycle race up the drive and head toward the city. She took out a phone from a pocket and dialled a number. Sliding to sit on a vacated desk she looked out the window now barely able to see Steve’s lights as they faded into the distance, she listened for the other side to pick up.
“Hey,” she paused for the other side to say something in return. “Not gonna lie, it wasn’t great you know? Look, Steve’s on his way to his place. I think he needs someone to be there,” she paused, listening to the other side of the conversation. “Yeah, thought you’d probably be best. Thank you.” She pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up, sliding it in the pocket of the black skin tight jeans, she returned her gaze out the window. “You’re welcome Rogers.” She scooted back off the table and walked out the office.
“Hey! Fellas where you guys think you’re going without me!” She walked briskly up to her teammates including as they too board the same elevator, one of the team put out his hand to hold the doors open for the redhead as she briskly walked up to the elevator and climbed on board.
“Well,” one of the newer avengers initiative members, Jack, began, and looked at the guys in the elevator with them, “I know this little dive club, somewhere where the music is good, the booze better and we can blow off some steam on the DL.” Natasha looked at the team back at Jack.
“Sounds like an excellent idea, I know I could blow off some steam.” Natasha looked at Jack, something rumbled in her gut. Something was just a little too ‘perfect SHIELD agent’ for her liking. She’d watch him tonight and see what happened.
Steve could tell that something was off as he walked up the stairs to his apartment. His first clue was that there was a familiar smell wafting down the stairwell. His second was the sound of a TV playing baseball on ESPN. The schoolteacher who lived opposite didn’t seem the type to watch Baseball and from what little he knew of her through conversation, tonight was supposed to be her mom’s birthday and so she was out. She had laughingly asked him to look after her apartment for the next weekend whilst she treated her mom to a spa weekend. Being neighbours with Captain America had to be good for something right. He would be happy though to be wrong about her being out though. Once he had walked by her door though, he knew it was his apartment that had the Yankee’s game playing a chicken broth cooking, so eerily similar to the kind his mom cooked he couldn’t help but remember her.
Walking to his door he quietly slowly unlocked the door and reached for the sidearm that he carried. Slowly he moved in to the hallway and crept along the wall.
“Steve, you know, you are one suspicious bastard ok?” Steve straightened up just in time for Bucky to walk around the corner. “Ok,” dryly Bucky quipped, “I take it back, you are one paranoid bastard.”
“Well, I haven’t had much luck with unexpected guests who let themselves in, in the past.” Steve looked at his friend as a shadow flittered over his face, to be quickly replaced with a smile.
“Yeah, well, I figured you would be getting about now so I have dished up some of your mom’s recipe chicken broth, so if you don’t put that,” He motioned to the gun still in Steve’s hand, “down, firstly you won’t get any dinner and secondly, you won’t get anything afterwards either,”
Steve lowered the gun and put it in its holster before removing that as well. He placed it, hanging on a coat hook, alongside his jacket, and the shield he had on his back was place on the floor against the wall underneath that. He moved into the kitchen, following his nose more than the familiar floor plan until Bucky pulled out a seat.
“Sit.” It was a command, they had never been like that. Neither had ever been the boss of either of them. But sometimes it was expedient to say one word. Formality was not a thing in the Barnes household, and in Rogers household, until the end Sarah had not always been there. She had to put food on the table and a roof over Steve’s head and long hours sometimes made things hard.
Bucky went back to the stove and picked a ladle from a retrofitted vase, used now as storage than as a vase, and scooped broth from the pan that was on the stove top.
“Where’d you buy that, Buck, it smells like mom’s but I haven’t been able to find it anywhere.” The sound of his voice is so earnest that Bucky can tell that Steve has been searching for that smallest of pieces of home and it breaks his heart a little.
“I didn’t buy it Steve. Sarah gave me the recipe before she died. I was supposed to give you the recipe, but I got called up and suddenly nothing like a recipe seemed important.” Steve stared at Bucky. Disbelief raced through his mind. He felt as though he had a part of his mom back and there was very little Steve could do in return for Bucky.
“Here you go,” Bucky placed a bowl of broth and some bread before Steve. Steve looked at the bowl in disbelief, before plunging his spoon into the broth and taking his first gulp of it. A tear sprung in his right eye.
“Feels like I have a piece of her back, Buck.” He scooped his next spoonful into his mouth, afraid that if he didn’t eat, he’d cry for so long that the broth would be cold by the time he stopped.
Bucky was silent as he watched his friend wolf down the broth. He moved to the table with his own broth and slowly ate his own. Looking up he saw his friend reaching for the bread that he had laid out for him to soak up the remains.
“There are seconds if you want some, it needs to be eaten tonight since I defrosted this round of broth.” Bucky mentioned smiling. Steve was up from the table before Bucky had finished.
Sitting back at the table Steve looked up at Bucky, “I needed you here tonight.” Bucky’s heart stuttered for a second.
“I know.” He responded quietly. “Nat called me. I don’t know what happened, just that you could do with a friend.”
“A friend?” Steve looked at Bucky, for months now there had been a dance between them. A push and a pull that had been there when they were in the 40’s but wasn’t even truly acknowledged by either. Different time, different set of rules, in some respects different people.
“Yeah,” Bucky said softly, gently. It felt as though there was a magic spell settling in the kitchen. One wrong word, badly uttered word, the whole thing could shatter. Surely Steve could have noticed that he held his eyes a little longer than other males friends did. That he was teasing him more than anyone else did. That their friendship had moments no one else’s platonic friendships did.
Steve barely breathed. He had no idea what to say, one heartbeat to another, he looked almost in askance to the other man. So many prayers in his mind were sped through praying that this moment was their turning point.
The moment stretched before them.
Steve in haled deeply and then exhaled, as though he was briefly meditating or grounding himself. “Is friendship all you want?”
Bucky stopped breathing and swallowed. This was the moment. The moment everything would alter and change. The moment where he would have the option and the ability, maybe, to bit the bottom lip that he had fantasies of biting as a 14 year old. There had been plenty of women, but only one man that he had wanted, fantasised about, desired and dreamed of. Here he was. Ready for the taking.
“Maybe not anymore,” Bucky swallowed before carrying on. “Maybe I want more, maybe I believe that there could be more.”
Steve dropped his spoon, but neither man heard the clatter of metal against the ceramic of the bowl.
“More, more would be good.” Steve said, heart in his throat.
When they looked back on this moment later neither would be able to determine who had made a first move, but it wasn’t long before they found each other in the other’s arms, with lips pressed to one another and tongues duelling each other for dominance.
“33 and 70 years in the making.” Buck smiled leaning his head on Steve’s forehead as they caught breath. Steve laughed.
“Can’t say we are fast on the uptake there.” Steve reflected, Bucky chuckled.
“No we can’t. We have earned this moment though, Steve. All those years, all those painful, terrifying moments. Moments we thought we were alone, or we had lost each other. That we are here, now...” Steve looked Bucky in the eyes, his hands sweeping down his back.
“We can’t break the habit of a lifetime can we,” he finally said. Bucky looked at him quizzically. “I’m beat Buck, everything went sideways on us today, we barely got out, there were casualties on both sides and ...”
“And you think or feel that you have to take the lion’s share of the responsibility,” Bucky finished off. “You don’t”
Steve smiled, heard the truth in Bucky’s words. “Yeah, still can we just, watch some TV.” He smiled sheepishly at Buck, who smiled back.
“Of course. I was watching baseball before you came in.” Steve looked at him, much as he loved baseball, he wasn’t up to the strategy of the game this night.
“I’ve been watch I Love Lucy reruns, well they call them reruns, I have never seen them.” Steve looked off in the distance.
“Never seen it either, the Russians aren’t really known for allowing prisoners to watch television.” Steve looked at Bucky, shocked he had made a joke. “It’s my past Steve. If anything the Wakandan’s did for me was a gift, acceptance of the past may have been the richest of them.”
They moved into the living room, and changed the channel. Once upon a time they would have sat on different pieces of furniture, a long time ago decorum dictated it. Now they sat so close that Steve could lean into Bucky, Bucky wrapped his right arm around the blonde man and pulled him closer until the others arms were wrapped around him. Leaning down Bucky kissed Steve’s crown and Steve kissed Bucky, gently right above his heart.