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Being stoic was kind of Bucky’s forte. It was a winter soldier stamp on his personality after the terrible parts had finally been pushed out of his brain, and a lot of the time it did a world of good when he needed to be strong. This is one of those times. He nods, does his part to encourage Sam to take up the mantle. God knows Bucky would have refused it if Steve had even suggested that it would be himself, and he agrees that Sam is a good fit. He’s level headed, humble, slightly noble, a fitting successor.
Bucky watches as they both talk, then Steve looks off into the distance in a moment of silence. A bird trills out a tune as it passes through the branches overhead, and Bucky is glad for something to focus on. He stares at it as he waits for the other men to finish talking and share a hug, and he still can’t help but notice the weaker than usual (but then what is usual anymore) embrace. Sam steps away, carrying the shield and wiping away tears, pats Bucky’s shoulder and stands to the side. ‘Your turn.’
Ever step forward feels like a mile crawling through mud and dust and pain and memories and Bucky doesn’t want to finally reach the bench where he sits. But he does, inevitably, in a short moment that is not enough to delay anything. He sits stiffly, feels the tear tracks on his cheeks and says nothing. He just waits. There’s a sudden hand on his, withered old and wrong and not his, but it is his and Bucky has to deal with that. ‘Hey Buck, I missed you’ Steve says after a seeming eternity has zipped by, and Bucky just puts his head in his hands and tries to hold in the sobs. ‘I knew you would, I knew it,’ he tries to say but it’s warped and strangled through his tears. And Steve just smiles, his sunshine smile, and it’s so familiar yet strange with the years added on to his face. They squeeze each other’s hands before Bucky can’t help it and wraps the old man in a hug, softer than before, almost dwarfing Steve. He gets flashes of memories of hugs before the war, before the serum and all of this bullshit.
‘You had a good life right?’ Bucky says when he can speak more clearly.
‘Almost perfect,’ Steve looks watery eyed himself.
‘I really- I really don’t know how I’m going to get by without you there by my side,’ Bucky says, taking in just how old Steve is again, taking in the wrinkles and the grey hair and the slightly shaking hands.
‘It’ll be be difficult,’ Steve says, and Bucky knows what he’s thinking about when he sounds so sure, ‘but you’ll get by somehow.
You’re strong Bucky, and not just in the way we both are- well, the way I was,’ and he gestures at himself and chuckles like gravel scraping over concrete. ‘You’ve got a good heart, and a mental fortitude that got you through all of that mess in your past, and got you out of it and back to us.’
‘You’ll get by. I know it.’ And fuck, Stark was right about this guys relentless optimism. Bucky despite himself can feel this small spark of belief in what his best friend says. He smiles, small and unsure but there nonetheless. ‘Maybe,’ he says instead just to be stubborn, and Steve smirks. This guy knows him too well. Bucky punches the bench with his metal arm just to get rid of the lingering frustration. It cracks slightly despite trying to pull the punch and he can’t bring himself to care, not when it makes Steve chuckle and do a shoulder check. Bucky hardly budges and that almost hurts more than when it used to, the phantom pain taking over for the physical.
‘So Steve, what’s your plan now?’
‘Hm.’ He smiles again at the question. ‘Don’t really have one. The bucket of my bucket list has pretty much overflowed,’ Steve says with a chuckle, and Bucky can see how peaceful the guy looks now, his laughter is a lot freer than it has been in a very long time. ‘A quiet life?’ Steve considers, and Bucky knows why he’s so vague. Peggy’s gone (again).
‘Do you mind if I visit?’ Bucky asks, not really sure how his old friend will answer. ‘You’d be welcome anytime,’ Steve says with a grin, and Bucky can’t help but be relieved as his heart breaks at the prospect of seeing his old friend age even further and then leave (again). Out of anything he remembers from before, it’s not this bittersweet feeling of wanting to spend time with Steve but knowing his time left is oh so short.
Either Steve is more perceptive than Bucky remembers or he’s telegraphing his emotions a lot, as Steve slowly stands and pats Bucky on the arm. ‘I’ll see you around, jerk,’ he chuckles. There’s a last lingering hug, with a ‘Not before I see you first, punk,’ in response. And Bucky’s thankful for hugs, because it means Steve doesn’t have to see him cry again before he meanders off into the sunset.