Work Text:
"Do you know me?"
Captain America stood in all of his star-spangled glory, in his tiny apartment. He was big and broad, like Bucky, but healthy in the way of someone who lacked the stress of trying to survive day-to-day.
“I read about you at the Smithsonian,” Bucky croaked, gesturing to the journal that Steve clutched in his hand.
“You pulled me from the river. Why?”
Bucky watched him carefully. He did have some memory of who Steve was. In fact, he had a lot more memories of just who Steve was than the rest of the world—or Captain America’s reputation as a golden boy would be a bit more tarnished. It was that that held him back, watching and waiting for Steve to give him some kind of signal as to why he was here.
Bucky was in a unique position. He knew Steve both before and after the serum. Not even Peggy Carter or the fabled Dr. Erskine had really known Steve pre-serum. The little Steve that he had been alternately irritated by and fond of was no pushover. More important, Bucky was aware that while little Steve fought and got beat up, he also fought and won enough to have gotten Bucky’s attention in the first place. Steve was a scrapper and he had few qualms about fighting dirty if it got him what he wanted.
While Steve was small and poor, a nobody, that mostly aligned with what Bucky had wanted. But he could see the winds were changing even as Steve was pulling him off the experimentation table during that long ago rescue mission. Captain America was dangerous because he gave Steve tools to achieve goals that he would have never imagined before. The thing about Steve, Bucky knew that he had always been both resentful of things that he didn’t have AND a creative sort. He had a limitless imagination. All of those artistic skills came from somewhere after all.
Bucky hadn’t run from Steve because he couldn’t remember. He had run from Steve because he could—and he was afraid.
Bucky listened as Steve warned him that they were coming for him and that he had to go with him and he had to do it now. He had very little time to consider anything before bombs, gas, bullets, and a car chase were chasing anything but “STAY ALIVE” from him mind, but he did have just enough time to think “I’m not going to like what this is going to cost me.”