Archive of Our Own ^beta

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They were just kids then, only nine or so. They weren’t trying to do anything wrong. Bucky had wanted to kiss the very tiny and very brave little boy since he’d first met him six months ago, wanted to kiss him more than he’d ever wanted to kiss some girl. The other boys talked about it, of course, about stealing kisses from girls, and it wasn’t that Bucky was against the idea...

He just thought Steve was a whole lot prettier than any of the girls he knew. He had the prettiest blue eyes Bucky had ever seen, and his pretty blond hair was always combed neat, and even though Bucky could tell Steve wasn’t very healthy, he admired him a whole lot for always sticking his neck out for others, even when the bullies were a whole lot bigger than Steve.

Steve made Bucky braver, too. Because of Steve, Bucky stood up for people he never would have before--he particularly stood up for Steve. After all, the kid made a habit of getting himself into situations where he couldn’t save himself, so he needed someone to look out for him.

All of that made him want to be friends with the boy, which was something Bucky managed quick enough. It turned out Steve didn’t have many friends.

Though Bucky had wanted to kiss him from the start, the overwhelming desire to do it didn’t come until months after that. Bucky had been walking Steve home one afternoon. They didn’t live too far apart, but Steve could often find a way to get himself in trouble if Bucky didn’t supervise him, so he’d grown used to the trip, just like he’d grown used to the sight of pairs of adult men walking together in Steve's neighborhood, sometimes even hand-in-hand... But that day was different. As they crossed over a side street, they both caught a glimpse of two men in an alley, pressed close together, mouths joined in a very adult kiss.

Neither of them mentioned it then, they just hurried up and got Steve home, but a month later, Bucky was still very preoccupied with it. It was the first time he’d ever seen two men kissing. It was the first time he really realized maybe he could kiss Steve...

Steve, ever the brave one, was the one to actually bring it up, saying he’d been thinking about it a lot, saying he’d understand if Bucky thought he was strange for it, even though that was the exact opposite of what Bucky thought.

Just seconds later, they were kissing, just a soft little thing, pressing their young mouths together sweetly, barely more than a peck, though it was followed by another, then a round of light giggles, and then another. Bucky thought Steve’s mouth was soft and warm, and he liked the way Steve laughed and smiled after he kissed him. He thought to himself that if he could just do this for hours, for days, for a lifetime... well, his life would probably just be perfect.

But it all came crashing down just a minute later. Bucky’s mom came into the room and had a fit, she tugged them apart, tugged Steve to the door as Bucky trailed after, begging her to stop, but she didn’t, not until Steve was outside and the door was shut behind him.

She started preaching about how she should have known Steve was no good, putting such ideas into her son’s head, and Bucky couldn’t have that. Even if Steve had brought it up, Bucky would never let her blame Steve because he’d wanted it as much as Steve had, and he confessed, laid himself on the line, told her it was all his idea, and begged her to forgive him for what he’d made Steve do, promised her to never do it again.

With how mad she was, how convinced she was that Bucky and Steve had done something very wrong, Bucky wasn’t ever sure how he talked her into letting them be friends again, but Bucky knew he was walking a thin line. From that point onward, Bucky wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize their friendship. Because not kissing Steve was one thing, but it was nothing next to never even being able to see him again.

He pushed his desires aside, tucked the memories of their very first kiss neatly into a place where he wouldn’t have to think about it, wouldn’t have to long for it, and carried on. He buried his feelings, put them in a shameful place where they wouldn’t hurt him or Steve ever again, and made himself move on, for both of their sakes.

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But it happened again, of course it did. Bucky did a good job of making himself not think about it, Steve too. They didn’t bring it up again, didn’t talk about it outside of Bucky saying his mom said they couldn’t do it again if they wanted to stay friends. They both accepted it, because staying friends was way more important than thinking about some kiss.

Bucky did think about it sometimes, but he didn’t linger on it, and as the years passed, he forgot what it had felt like, lost the details, and lost the reasons why he’d wanted it to begin with. As the years passed, he started learning about what some of the other boys thought about the “fags” that ran a bit wild in Steve’s neighborhood, though he never really understood why it was supposed to be unnatural or wrong. He didn’t stick his neck out unless anyone tried to say anything derogatory about Steve, which they learned pretty quick Bucky wouldn’t tolerate.

It was a cold January afternoon. Bucky was thirteen and he got out of school that day to find that, stupidly and stubbornly, one block away from the school grounds, Steve was fighting a pair of older boys in an alleyway. Bucky found out later on that Steve had caught them flipping up some girl’s skirt and had stepped in to make them back off (honorable as always), but at the time, Bucky just knew that Steve had gotten himself in over his head again. He stepped in, and as soon as he landed a real good punch to the bigger boy’s head, they realized it wouldn’t be such an easy fight with Bucky there and gave it up, hurrying off.

“I... didn’t need you... to do that,” Steve panted.

Bucky just smiled, knowing that arguing with Steve was a waste of breath. “Yeah, I know you didn’t,” Bucky replied, “But there’s no use in letting you go home with another black eye and making your Ma worry.”

But Bucky was the one who quickly grew worried as they left the alley and started heading home when a whole block later, Steve was still breathing hard and fast, coughing irritably every few breaths, his thin chest heaving greatly. Bucky wasn’t a dummy; he’d seen Steve have an asthma attack before and he knew that that’s what was happening. It was a bit of a surprise, because Steve hadn’t had an attack in over a year (his ma had hoped that maybe he’d grown out of it), but Bucky knew the signs when he saw one... he asked Steve just to be sure, and Steve hesitated a long moment, before begrudgingly admitting it was true.

It’d been so long since the last one that Bucky had stopped carrying around the special cigarettes Steve needed and while Steve had the right medicine at home, his home was still pretty far and Bucky didn’t know if they could make it... there was a pharmacy just two blocks away though, and Bucky began leading Steve in that direction as quickly as possible.

Steve couldn’t make it though. As they were cutting through an alley, Steve stumbled and fell, and Bucky stuck by his side long enough to help sit him upright and make sure he wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t, but his face was already looking pale, and Bucky couldn’t carry Steve. Panic was making his pulse rush (kids died from asthma attacks way too often, Bucky knew that) and he told Steve he’d be right back, running as fast as he could the rest of the way to the pharmacy.

Inside, he shouted that his friend was having an asthma attack outside and that he needed asthma cigarettes, and two nice older women let him cut in front of them to get them and a pack of matches, Bucky giving up the only dollar he had for the month to buy the pack, though he didn’t even give the money a second thought as he took the items and rushed back to Steve’s side.

Steve’s lips were near-blue by the time Bucky got back to him and Bucky’s hands were shaking as he got into the pack, pulled out a cigarette and tried to light it. He was so flustered that it took until the third match to light it properly and get the cigarette going before he could put it to Steve’s mouth and let him smoke it.

The effects were as close to instant as Bucky could ask for. Within three shallow puffs, Steve’s labored breathing had calmed, and his chest wasn’t heaving anymore and Bucky felt himself take a deep breath of his own, in relief.

Steve took a few more slow, deep drags on the cigarette before he lifted his hand to touch Bucky’s and lower it from his once-again-pink lips.

His hand didn’t leave Bucky’s and their eyes met for a good long moment, a soft smile on Steve’s pretty lips, and a warm look in his eyes, and before Bucky really realized it, Steve was leaning in and so was he, and suddenly they were kissing again, and Bucky was reminded all over again just what this felt like, how perfect Steve’s mouth felt again his, how his heart raced as it happened.

Crouched in the alley, they kissed, and kissed, and kissed a little more, as if they both knew they had to get their fill while they could. When they finally broke apart, Bucky had to take a breath before he shifted to take a seat next to Steve, putting out the cigarette and finding Steve’s hand between their legs and holding it. Steve was always a little out of it after one of the cigarettes and Bucky knew they’d be sitting there for a couple minutes at least.

They sat in silence, hand in hand, knowing that the moment had come and gone, and that they had to let it go once again.

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Time marched on and Bucky left the past in the past, went back to his old ways of pretending that the kiss had never happened, because some part of him was still afraid that his mother (or Steve’s) would bar them from each other somehow if word got out, even if he knew they didn’t really have the power to stop them anymore.

So Bucky stayed quiet, and Steve did as well, and when they were old enough, Bucky’s dad managed to get them jobs cleaning dishes in his friend’s restaurant for a couple pennies an hour after school. They both continued on with high school at their parents’ urging, and Bucky started really developing an eye for girls, though he didn’t usually approach them much.

He kissed a few, here and there, and tried not to compare, tried to just enjoy the moments as they came.

It was 1934 and it was the first ballgame Bucky and Steve had been to in years. They’d both gone to dozens of games together as kids, but over the last five years, since the big stock market crash, they had only gotten to two games, forced to sit by a radio and listen to most of them. It’d be their first game since the team officially became the Dodgers, since getting their new jerseys, and the boys were both still getting used to the name, when barely four years ago, the team had been called the Robins (and some of the older folk were used to calling them the Grays, or the Trolley Dodgers, or even the Superbas). Bucky had been saving up his money for weeks to buy them tickets for Steve’s birthday.

Bucky had given Steve the tickets a few days before his birthday (though the closest game was two days after it, a Dodgers-Giants game at their home stadium), and Steve’s eyes had lit up with delight and he’d grinned at Bucky, thanking him wholeheartedly. Bucky thought it was worth it just for that. Steve’s smiles were so often shy or soft, and if not that, they were playful because he was teasing Bucky over something, and though Bucky liked giving Steve any reason to smile, the truly happy smiles were always Bucky’s favorite.

Being at the game just made it even better. Times had been dark, after all. Even if they didn’t feel it the way the adults did, they were just old enough to understand the bread lines, the suicides, the families that had lost their homes... Bucky’s mom had taken both of them into Manhattan the year before, and they’d seen the growing shanty town in Central Park, the hopeless looks on the faces of so many people there.

Both their families had thankfully managed to avoid taking a real hit, but it didn’t mean they didn’t see it at all. More than a couple of their friends had to drop out of school to try and find some work, even if it was just for pennies. Everytime they passed any evidence of the sick or poor, Bucky could see how Steve’s heart ached to be able to do something to help the people who’d been hurt, and they’d started volunteering at a soup kitchen a couple weeks after the Manhattan trip.

But at the game, they could forget about it for a while. They could let themselves get swept up in the excitement of the crowd and forget the troubles that hovered not-so-far outside the stadium. There was a light in Steve’s eyes that Bucky had truly missed, and though Bucky loved the game too... he couldn’t stop glancing over at Steve, watching him smile and cheer, so happy to see Steve so very wrapped up in a little bit of his own happiness.

Honestly, Bucky didn’t think the day could get any better. He was already on cloud nine, watching their team play, watching Steve watching their team play. The Dodgers were already winning 4-2 at the bottom of the sixth and the last thing that Bucky could have expected was Sam Leslie getting up to bat and hitting the first in-the-park grand slam Bucky had ever seen at a stadium. By the time Sam crossed back over the home plate safe and sound, the entire stadium was on its feet, and Sam completing the grand slam made the entire stadium ERUPT in whoops and hollers, jumping up out of their seats, throwing arms and hats in the air.

It was impossible not to get wrapped up in the excitement, and Bucky and Steve were jumping up and down as well, and Bucky didn’t really know WHAT came over him, but in all the commotion, he reached over, grabbed Steve’s face and kissed him hard and quick, leaving Steve looking stunned but exuberant, before they both rejoined the crowd in cheering, their brief and risky exchange having gone unnoticed.

The Dodgers won the game 11-2, though they’d ultimately fall to 6th in the league by the end of the season. Even so, Bucky would still remember that as his favorite baseball game of all time.

Chapter Text

When Steve turned 18, Bucky made it his goal to buy Steve his first drink.

Of course, nothing was easy with Steve. The smaller man was feisty as is, but around drunk men, he was impossible. Bucky had brought him along to a couple bars (none that were very strict about them coming in), only to get kicked out barely an hour later because some drunk got a bit too rude or too handsy with someone else and Steve felt the need to step in. Bucky had had to put in quite a bit of thought as to how he was going to handle Steve actually getting to drink in a bar without their early expulsion.

Their best option ended up being a queer bar just a couple of blocks from Steve’s place. They’d known the owner for years now and had met more than a few regulars there and Bucky knew they all got along. The two of them had even helped Georgie, the bartender, unload supply trucks a couple times a months for a few extra bucks, and they’d been inside the place a few times when it was packed. If there was any place that Steve was gonna be able to drink without causing a fuss, it was there.

Two hours and three beers into the evening (though Bucky was actually on his fourth), Bucky was feeling quite proud of himself. They were chatting with a group of men just a few years older than them, enjoying themselves greatly. Steve wasn’t the most outgoing person in a casual social situation, but he was smiling and laughing softly, his face slightly heated from the alcohol, and Bucky was feeling a soft, enjoyable buzz.

At some point, pleasantly heady, they drifted away from the group and took a seat at a booth near the corner, where Bucky slid in next to Steve, chatting and laughing and continuing to drink. Every so often, Bucky’s eyes would sweep over the rest of the room and he’d catch glimpses of other men, flirting, brushing against each other, touching hands and arms and shoulders, even kissing. He was just drunk enough to let himself think about those things too much, to let his mind linger on the girls he’d done the same things with while knowing it was really Steve he wanted to give his attention to. They were dangerous thoughts, had always been dangerous, but intoxicated, in a bar full of men who wouldn’t mock or ridicule them for feeling this way, the thoughts lost their edge. Bucky’s desire for Steve didn’t seem nearly so outrageous in a bar full of men who would only accept them.

Bucky’s hand eventually slipped across the table and took Steve’s tentatively and Steve’s only reaction was to smile and lean in and keep talking like nothing had changed and when Bucky shifted towards Steve and reached up to touch his cheek, Steve leaned in and closed the ever-shrinking gap between their faces, pressed their mouths together just as sweetly as he had years ago.

Bucky wasn’t sure how long they kissed. Time blurred as their lips touched and there was nothing else in the world except the kiss. Bucky’s heart swelled and the noises of the bar seemed to fade from around them and there was only Steve’s mouth, Steve’s skin, the gentle exhale of breath against his upper lip, and then there was tongue and the inside of Steve’s mouth, their bodies leaned in close to one another and oh god this was perfect, Steve’s mouth tasted softly of the beer they’d been drinking and his kiss was shy and sweet, his hand was resting hotly against Bucky’s neck and Bucky couldn’t ask for anything else.

And then the door bust open, and Georgie rushed in, silence fell over the bar as he announced that there was a group of drunk men down the street coming towards the bar, looking for a fight, saying they’d found Peter and Tommy and were fighting them just a block away. Some of the bigger men in the bar got up then, rushing out the front door to help.

Nothing could have ripped away Bucky’s happiness faster.

Georgie spotted them across the bar, came to them, urging them to get out before they were spotted, and they were both so surprised and just drunk enough that they listened and let Georgie usher them out the back door, into an alley they could follow a few blocks and safely get away. He told them with real concern to stay safe and get home as quick as possible.

They did just as he said and found out why it had been a good idea two days later. The next time they saw Georgie, he was beat to hell and the found out that the drunk men hadn’t just been looking for a fight. They’d had chains and bats and knives and four men from the bar had ended up in the hospital that night with open wounds and broken bones, three others looked about as bad as Georgie did, and Tommy had been beat to death right there on the street.

It hadn’t been in the papers. Georgie said the police had come to the hospital and had quickly left with nothing but repulsed looks on their faces. Those drunk men had killed someone and none of them were ever going to get in trouble for it because it was only a queer man that they’d killed.

All the danger present in kissing Steve the other night came rushing back to Bucky then, and he knew exactly why they could never do it again. Steve got himself into enough trouble without armed men coming after either of them, and if Bucky ever lost Steve to that... he’d never forgive himself.

It was over. It had to be over, so it was, because Bucky wasn’t going to force them to talk about this, to deal with this, because they couldn’t choose this dangerous path here and now when Steve being safe and alive was so much more important.

Bucky made a promise to himself that day to never let himself be that weak again, to never give in to something that could put Steve’s life in danger just because it gave him some selfish bit of happiness.

Bucky managed to keep that promise for over nine years.

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War changed everything.

But above everything else, it had changed Steve. He was no longer the scrawny, sickly kid that Bucky had come to adore. He was strong now, broad shouldered, taller than Bucky now, even if only by an inch. Bucky didn’t have to worry about Steve getting sick, didn’t have to cope for his weaknesses, and the habits that had been so ingrained in him over the years didn’t mean as much anymore.

Beneath the muscled shell though, he was still Steve. It took Bucky a few months to adjust, but he did see it, saw the Steve he recognized shining through the new strength and confidence. It just took some getting used to the new Steve.

He saw the way Steve looked at Agent Peggy Carter and told himself he was happy for him. All he’d wanted for Steve was to find a girl that made him happy and he could see, for the first time ever really, that Steve was interested in her. He saw the picture Steve kept of her in his compass.

Moving on had always been the goal. Bucky knew that. But nine years since their last kiss, Bucky could still remember it, could still imagine the taste of Steve’s mouth and the softness of his lips and Bucky hated himself for not being able to let it go.

Bucky had been drinking that night. And he’d had a lot to drink, probably an entire bottle of cheap whiskey, but he just barely felt a soft buzz as he headed back towards base, and he didn’t want to think about that, about what it meant for him or about what had... happened to him in that Hydra facility, so he ended up joining Steve in his room, where he was pouring over maps of where they’d be heading next.

The details were hazy, but he did remember moving next to him, teasing him about the cold, about how just a couple years ago, Steve would have needed to be wrapped up in a cocoon of at least five blankets just to stay warm. Steve laughed and teased back that now Bucky was the one that was shivering. Steve grabbed his coat from a chair and moved to wrap it around Bucky’s shoulders, inadvertently pulling him in closer, when suddenly they were kissing again.

Bucky’s heart hammered as their chests pressed together as softly as their lips, his hands moving to Steve’s shoulders as Steve’s fingers brushed across the light stubble on his jaw.

Then Steve was pulling back with a soft protest, breaking the kiss with a warning, “Bucky, please.”

And Bucky felt sick, he felt his stomach turn, because he’d promised himself, he’d wanted so badly to let Steve go, and he’d failed so miserably and Steve didn’t need this now or ever, and he’d have turned and left, ashamed, if Steve didn’t lightly grip the back of his neck, press their foreheads together gently and hold him there.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. What else could he say?

Steve shook his head. “You don’t have to be sorry. I just... I can’t. I can’t do this again...”

And really what did Bucky expect? When Steve had been small, his world had been small too, and yeah, they’d had other friends, but it had been just Bucky and Steve for so much of their lives. Steve’s world was so much bigger now, there were so many more people in it, and it wasn’t a surprise that Steve would have easily moved passed Bucky... Steve deserved to move past this.

But Steve hadn’t finished talking. “...and just pretend nothing’s happened. I’m sick of pretending, Buck. We both know this means something. If we’re gonna do this, we have to talk about it.”

The breath was knocked out of him upon realizing this wasn’t rejection.

“It doesn’t have to be now,” Steve continued, his thumb brushing across Bucky’s cheek. “We’re at war, I know it’s not the time. But if... if this is something you want, you have to promise me we’re not just going to ignore this again. Promise me we’ll talk about it.”

Bucky was almost smiling, almost relieved at the confidence Steve’s transformation had given him. Steve was right, this wasn’t the right time for it. But knowing that Steve wanted to talk about this meant the world to him. He didn’t have to think about his answer. After all, war had changed everything. War had changed Steve. Bucky didn't have to fear Steve getting beat to death by a couple of drunks anymore.

“I promise,” Bucky replied immediately, his heart swelling with his response, with the new hope for their future growing in a place that he'd always considered barren. “As soon as this is over, as soon as we’re back home. We’ll talk about it.”

Steve sighed and Bucky didn’t need to see the smile to know it was there as Steve replied, “Good.”

They kissed again, and again, and again, and they held each other and kissed some more, and Bucky went to sleep that night feeling more content than he could remember feeling in years.

Six days later, Bucky plummeted from a moving train down a deep ravine and into the icy river below.

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Bucky was eager for Steve to get back. The television was on, but he couldn’t focus on it one bit knowing that Steve was supposed to be home any minute.

Steve had been needed for an Avengers-related mission two days ago, and since Bucky had only been back a month or so, he was still in the process of recovery, so Steve had insisted he stay at home and relax (despite the fact that it was nearly impossible for Bucky to relax while he knew Steve was putting himself in harm’s way). And Bucky had been trying to do just that, but the memories he’d recovered in the past two days made him even antsier than usual for Steve’s return.

As soon as the door to their cozy apartment in Avengers Tower opened, Bucky was off his feet and heading towards the door, intercepting Steve just after he’d kicked his shoes off, looking dirty and sweaty from whatever mission he’d been on, but Bucky didn’t care. He quickly wrapped Steve up in a tight hug.

“Hey there,” Steve replied fondly, returning the hug. “Miss me much?”

“You know I did,” Bucky replied with a faint smile and his hands moved across Steve’s back and he appreciated the feeling of Steve’s chest pressed to his.

He felt Steve settle against him, arms wrapping around Bucky’s waist. “Missed you too.”

They stood like that for a few minutes in the entryway, hugging each other gently, indulging in being close together again. But after just a moment or so, Steve took Bucky’s hand and began tugging him towards the bathroom, shedding clothing as they went, and before long they were standing under a hot stream of water in their shower, hands rubbing across each other’s skin, washing each other sweetly in between kisses.

“I remembered a few things while you were gone,” Bucky admitted softly into the back of Steve’s shoulder as his hands moved slowly over Steve’s chest.

“Yeah?” Steve prompted eagerly. Bucky knew Steve looked forward to the memories as much as Bucky did, each one a tiny step forward in Bucky’s recovery.

“Mmhmm,” Bucky replied, smiling, pressing himself to Steve’s back. “I remember that we... we kissed. Before all this. Before the war.”

“We did,” Steve said as he leaned back into Bucky’s arms. “Which times do you remember?”

“Once a couple months after we met, my mom found us and threw a fit,” Bucky recounted, “Again when you had an asthma attack, once at a baseball game, at that bar the night you turned 18... and then, uh... in ‘45. Was that all of them?”

“Almost. All but one,” Steve replied.

“Yeah? What was the other one?”

Steve’s hands moved over Bucky’s, wrapping his arms around him tight. “I’m not surprised you didn’t remember, honestly. You were completely smashed. It was... the night after we went to enlist together. You were accepted, but they turned me down, and I got... well, pissy, to put it nicely. We had a fight. I went home, you went out, and a couple hours later, you came back so drunk that I was surprised you even made it. But the second you came in the door, you pulled me into your arms and kissed me hard.”

So maybe Bucky hadn’t kept the promise he’d made to himself for as long as he’d originally thought he had... Bucky placed a few soft kisses to Steve’s neck, feeling guilty even if he didn’t remember the incident. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be. I pulled you in. I was kissing you back. And it was just kissing. I’d have gladly let you do more, but you didn’t even try,” Steve explained, then gave a little laugh, “Even drunk out of your mind, you were still a gentleman.”

“Good to know,” Bucky replied with a small smile.

The man turned around in his arms then, leaning in to press a kiss to his mouth as his fingers combed back through Bucky’s hair.

When the kiss broke, Bucky spoke up, “I remember that I promised we’d talk about it when we got home.”

“You did,” Steve agreed as he pressed his cheek softly against Bucky’s. That memory had been such a sad one not so long ago, in Steve’s conscious years between Bucky’s fall and Bucky’s return to him. He teased, “Got anything to confess?”

Bucky laughed softly, his hands settling against the small of Steve’s back as his chin rested on Steve’s shoulder. “Only that I think I loved you since the first day I met you. And that part of me is sorry I never said anything sooner, even though I know I was holding back to protect you. I figured you had enough trouble in your life without factoring us into it. I mean, with the way our parents would have taken it, with the way people reacted back then, people getting beat to death... I didn’t want any more reasons for you to get hurt.”

“I could have handled it,” Steve replied, just a bit indignantly.

“Stevie, if I’d had a nickel for every time I heard you say that right after I saved you from getting your ass kicked, I’d have been rich and you know it,” Bucky said.

Steve laughed just a little, an admission that he knew the truth of the matter, even if he was too stubborn to admit it aloud. “Okay, okay,” he said and shook his head a little. “I understand. I still... wish we had talked about it. For the longest time, I... just thought you were taking pity on me, letting me kiss you because you knew how I felt and you felt sorry for me.”

“Oh, Steve,” Bucky sighed, frowning and holding Steve tighter, twisting to press a few soft kisses to the damp skin of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Steve agreed softly. “I’m just glad to have you back now. I’m glad that we have it worked out.”

Bucky felt his chest swelling, and he squeezed Steve gently in his arms. “So am I,” Bucky said. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Steve replied sweetly.

And though so much of Bucky’s time recently had been spent recovering the past, he knew he couldn’t linger on it. The memories were important, of course they were, and Bucky would never stop wanting to regain bits and pieces of who he was, but... the past was gone. Nothing could come of regretting all the words they hadn’t spoken and all the things they hadn’t done all those years ago. Nothing could change the opportunities they’d given up with each passing kiss.

Bucky had everything he could ever need right here and now, Steve and him wrapped tightly around each other under the warm stream of water, and he pulled back enough just enough to find Steve’s mouth and press their lips together.

They had kissed back then, but... they were kissing now, and they’d be kissing again soon after this, and then again after that... and those were the kisses Bucky would much rather spend his time thinking about.