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Bucky lay awake, unable to fall asleep. His body was aching and exhausted, but his mind refused to be silent. Though it had been several hours since they'd defeated Thanos and everyone had retreated to Stark's home upstate, Bucky still felt on edge. Too alert. Every sound made him tense in anticipation for an attack that wasn't coming.
So, he'd long since given up trying to sleep. Instead, he passed the hours watching Steve. Steve clearly didn't share in Bucky's struggle for rest; he was out cold, snoring, sprawling across two-thirds of the mattress with one arm draped over Bucky's middle. Bucky watched the rhythm of his body with each breath, watched the tiny twitches in his expression as he dreamed. He didn't take a single second of it for granted. Once again, they'd been ripped from each other, only to be reunited after years apart. Maybe one day, Bucky hoped, he would stop fearing every moment they had together was about to be snatched away.
But that wasn't happening tonight. Tonight was the night before Steve was going to return all the Infinity Stones. One last mission before they would retire together, Steve had told him, and though Bucky wanted that more than anything, he couldn't dare let himself believe it. Not yet. Not until Steve came back. Maybe then, he'd finally be able to breathe.
Bucky glanced over at the dresser across the room, where Steve had put the case containing all the Stones. Next to it was Thor's hammer. Bucky remembered the way Steve had looked on the battlefield with it, slaughtering wave after wave of enemies, striking them down with summoned lightening. He'd looked like a god; it had been both thrilling and awful to behold.
Bucky tore his eyes from the small collection of cosmic objects and looked down at Steve, an aching feeling taking root in his chest and he realized how grateful he was that Steve was safe and resting in bed with him now.
Still, though, when he brought his gaze back to the hammer, he couldn't help feeling the tiniest bit of curiosity. Steve had explained to him about the hammer's legend. If he be worthy…
Bucky slipped carefully out of bed, and crossed the room. He didn't expect anything to happen, of course. He knew all too well how badly his hands were stained red. But, still, it wasn't every day a guy found himself alone with the God of Thunder's magical hammer. He couldn't resist just trying .
Feeling more than a little silly and promising himself Steve was not going to ever find out about this, he gripped the handle and --
"Oh, fuck!"
The exclamation escaped his lips before he could stop himself, too stunned by the fact that there, held aloft in his vibranium hand, was the hammer.
"Oh my god," he whispered to himself, giving it a short experimental swing. "There has to be some mistake."
"There's not."
Bucky froze, startled by the sound of Steve's voice. Steve was sitting up in the bed, staring at him with so much awe and fondness it made something heavy settle in the pit of Bucky's stomach.
"Steve, seriously, I think something's wrong."
Steve's expression fell into a frown and he got out of bed, crossing the room to Bucky. He stood in front of him and cradled both of his hands around Bucky's fingers gripping the hammer's handle.
"Nothing's wrong. There's no mistake." Steve was looking him right in the eye, so earnest and sincere Bucky almost couldn't bear it. "I don't know anyone more worthy."
"Steve, the things I've done..."
"How many times do I have to say it? That wasn't you."
Bucky turned away, no longer able to handle the way Steve was looking at him, the way love was spilling out in every word he said to Bucky.
They were quiet for a moment, and then Steve bought a hand to Bucky's cheek, gently guiding him back so they were looking at each other again.
"Hey," Steve said. "If you won't believe me, will you at least believe the millennias-old mystical cosmic weapon?"
Bucky cracked a smile despite himself. "Maybe."
Steve rolled his eyes, but he still looked fond. He leaned over and kissed Bucky on the lips. It was brief but Bucky still felt every ounce of love and reassurance Steve poured into it.
"Come on, Buck. Let's go back to bed."
Letting out a breath, Bucky set the hammer back down on the dresser and let Steve take his hand and guide him back into the bed. He laid down on his side, and Steve settled in behind him, wrapping Bucky in his arms and drawing him close so his back was flush against his chest.
"You are worthy," Steve whispered to him, sweet and sad. "Someday, I hope you believe that."
Bucky sighed, but said nothing. He didn't really know what to believe. The hammer had let him lift it. But the guilt inside him felt heavy and immovable, a permanent fixture of his being.
But still, he said nothing to contradict Steve’s words. It was, after all, hard to argue with the cosmos.