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“When are you going to find your own place, James?” His father questioned.
Winifred made an admonishing noise, setting her cutlery down beside her plate, “George!”
Bucky glared at his father and turned to his mom with a soft look, “It's okay, Ma. I can handle it."
"Well?" George fixed him with an expectant look.
Bucky shook his head, "I'm trying. Not many places want to take a war vet with no job and low income."
George rolled his eyes, "Pulling the vet card again, James?"
"George!" Winifred exclaimed, "Your son has just come back from protecting his country! He's seen things that neither you nor I could ever imagine! He's still recovering! Get off his back and give him time."
"Well, he can't sit indoors all day and do nothing." George retorted, reaching for his wine glass.
"What? And you can?" Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes, "But hypocritical, don't you think?"
"You won't talk to me that way in my own house!"
He clenched his fist, the mechanical plates of his metal arm whirring, "I'll talk to you how I fucking well want to if you're being a dick. If the army taught me anything, it was to not take anyone's shit and that's including yours!" He drew in a sharp breath, "From day one, you've hated everything that I've done. You hated my degree, you hated that I joined the army. You hated that I got sent home. Can't complete anything, that boy. Well, guess what?! I didn't ask to be sent home! I didn't ask for your fucking criticism, yet here I am, getting it anyway! I'm doing my best with what I have and that ain't a fucking lot."
His mom placed a soft hand on his arm, her fingers warm against the cold metal, and she tapped the inside of his wrist, "Why don't you go take a walk? Calm yourself down, I'll talk to your father."
Bucky nodded his head, chest heaving and eyes stinging, "Yeah, okay." He pushed up from his chair, placing his unfinished dinner on the side, and walked towards the front door, stopping when his father called out to him.
"You walk out that door, you ain't coming back!"
Bucky's hand froze above the doorknob and he chuckled bitterly, "You've been tryna kick me out since I was sixteen and told you that I didn't wanna join the family business like Henry and Luke. Every fucking argument that we have, it always comes back to this. If you're not happy, James, then leave. I'm sure your grandmother has the space for you, if you don't want to be with us. Every goddamn time! I've had enough! If you don't want me here, then fine! I don't wanna be here, in a house, with a man that treats me with no respect!"
George rolled his eyes, "You think you're something special, don't you? You think you deserve some kinda special treatment 'cause you fought in a war! Well, suck it up, you ain't the only one!"
Bucky's gaze turned murderous and his voice dropped to a dangerous volume, "You don't think I don't know that? You think I don't know that there are people out there who've got it worse than me? There are soldiers out there that will never come! I'm lucky in comparison to them. I've got it easy. But, you know what makes me "special"? It's not being a soldier, it's not even being a Sergeant. It's this."
He lifted his left hand, metal fingers gleaming in the early evening sun as he clenched his fist, "It's losing a part of me, physically and emotionally, but still powering through. Still coming out on the other side, almost as strong as I was when I went in. You know, I got a Medal of Honor for what I did? Got a Purple Heart too. Not that you would know any of that because you never turned up to the fucking ceremony."
Bucky shook his head and turned the doorknob, yanking the door open before he threw a final look over his shoulder, "I’ll drop by to collect my stuff at some point."
With that, he left the house, slamming the door shut behind him, the door rattling on its hinges, and walked with no particular destination in mind, but soon found himself in Fresh Creek Nature Preserve. He dropped himself onto the rocks and pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on top of them as he looked out over the water.
An explosion. Screams. Gunfire. Heart pounding, lungs burning, legs aching.
Bucky flinched and dug his fingers into the rocks, trying to ground himself. He shook his head, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, and tried to draw his thoughts away from the memories that threatened to drag him under.
Pain. Unbearable pain. Drifting in and out of consciousness. Stay with us, Sarge.
He wrapped his hands through his hair, tugging harshly on the strands, pulling at his scalp, and buried his head in his knees. He shook his head, whimpering softly, and tried to draw in a deep breath, but failed, his lungs screaming in protest.
We tried to save as much as we could. There was only so much that can be done, we’re sorry, Sergeant Barnes.
His grip on his hair tightened and he tried to focus on the roar of the lapping of the water and the squawk of the gulls instead of the tightness in his chest and the memories in his head.
Sergeant Barnes, due to your injuries, we believe that you are unfit for service and have elected to send you home. Thank you for your service soldier.
Bucky sobbed into his knees, chest burning, and pulled harshly at his hair, hoping that the pain would distract him from the cloud of anxiety that settled over him.
“Hey, Pal, are you okay?” A deep, baritone voice sounded from his right side and Bucky jumped about a foot in the air, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just saw you sat here and you looked pretty shaken up. I wanted to make sure that you were okay.”
“I-” He tried to tell the man that he was okay, but his words got caught around the lump in his throat and he found himself shaking his head.
“Okay,” There was a rustling of clothes as the man lowered himself onto the floor, “do you think you could lift your head for me?” Bucky shook his head and the man made a soft noise, “That’s okay. We’ll get there. Can I have your hands?”
He gave a shaky nod and a pair of calloused fingers wrapped around his wrists, coaxing his grip away from his hair. He let go of the strands and latched onto the man’s hands, intertwining their fingers. The man brought their conjoined hands to a strong, warm chest and Bucky zeroed in on the feeling, using the steady beating of his heart to ground himself.
“Do you reckon that we can try breathing?” The man whispered and Bucky nodded gently, “Good, good. Can you try to match your breaths to mine?” He nodded, focusing on the rise and fall of the strong chest beneath his hands and slowly his breathing paralleled the man’s.
“I’m so sorry.” Bucky rasped, slowly lifting his head, his eyes adjusting to the brightness of the setting sun.
The man was none other than a Greek Adonis, strong lines of muscle accentuated by his ridiculously tight shorts and even tighter shirt. His face, framed by beautiful sandy blond locks and a full beard, was carved from stone, it seemed, with sharp cheekbones and an even sharper jawline. Bucky’s heart gave a jolt and he blushed, looking down at his baggy sweatpants and twelve-year-old M.I.T hoodie, feeling suddenly like a slob.
The man shook his head, drawing his attention away from gawking at the wall of muscle in front of him, “Don’t apologise. Everyone needs a little comfort sometime.”
“You’d think a grown ass man would be able to control his own damn flashbacks.” He snarled, carefully extracting his hand from the man’s grip to tug a hand through his hair.
“Flashbacks? You served?” The man questioned.
Bucky nodded, “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th; did two tours in Afghanistan, eight years in total. Got a pretty neat trophy too.” He lifted his left hand, wiggling his prosthetic fingers.
“Captain Steven Grant Rogers of the Howling Commandos. Did my service in the 1940s.” The Steve Rogers gave him a blinding smile, tugging a hand through his hair.
The brunet groaned and buried his face in his hands, hunching over to rest his forehead against his knees, shoulders shaking with silent laughter, “Of course. Of fucking course.”
Steve chuckled, “Something wrong?”
Bucky shook his head and lifted it from his knees, staring in Steve’s shocking blue eyes, “Just marvelling over my luck.”
The Captain tilted his head, his brows furrowed in confusion, “How do you mean?”
“Of all the people in New York to catch me like this .” He gestured to his less- than-put-together appearance, “It had to be you. Looking like that .” He gestured lightly to his dishevelled-but-handsome aura.
Steve rolled his eyes, “I don’t look like much.”
Bucky recoiled, blinking owlishly at the Captain-turned-superhero, “You look like sex on legs, no offense.”
The blond chuckled again, a beautiful sounding noise, deep and melodious, “None taken. You often compliment strangers?”
Bucky grinned wolfishly, “If those strangers look like you, Captain Rogers.”
The Captain shook his head and leant back on his hands, torso tilted towards the sun, “Well, I hope you don’t meet many strangers that look like me.”
The brunet shook his head again, “No one looks like you, Steve. You’re a special kinda something.”
“So, tell me, James, what do you do with yourself? Other than complimenting attractive strangers, of course.” Steve questioned.
Bucky cringed, “Please, call me Bucky. James reminds me of my Dad.” He took a deep breath, trying to keep his mind away from his newfound homelessness, and focused on Steve’s question, “Before joining the army, I was going to be a mechanical engineer.”
Steve let out a low, impressed whistle, “You’d get on well with Tony then.”
Bucky snorted and shook his head, “I can’t imagine that I would. He’s a bit too-” He glanced up at Steve and snapped his mouth shut, remembering that he wouldn’t do well to insult one of Captain America’s friends.
“Eccentric?” Steve supplied, grinning cheekily at him.
He tilted his head to the side and hummed softly in contemplation, “I was going to say egotistical, but that works too.”
Steve barked out a laugh and nodded in agreement, “I’ll side with you on that one. It’s hard to fit in a room with him and his ego at the same time.”
“What would Iron Man say if he heard that?” Bucky teased.
Steve shrugged, picking up a handful of rocks and letting them tumble from his palm, “I’ll tell him to his face, I don’t give a shit.”
The brunet made a mock-scandalised noise and held a hand over his heart, “Did Captain America just curse? Well, I never!”
The hero rolled his eyes and snorted, “Fuck off.”
Bucky chuckled, head thrown back, and fixed the Captain with an unimpressed stare, “Trust me, I’m not at all surprised. You were in the army. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t curse. But, I suppose that you have to uphold that stupid ass, goody-two-shoes, patriotic grandpa look for the media, right?”
The blond nodded, a bright grin on his face, “Too right. Everyone thinks that I’m so out of touch and that I’m this surly old codger that needs to be explained the most basic of concepts. I may be from the ‘40s, but I ain’t stupid.”
Bucky shook his head in agreement, “Far from it, Steve.”
“So, tell me, Bucky, what brings you to these parts at such an ungodly hour?” Steve questioned, arching an eyebrow at him.
The man in question chuckled, “It’s barely half six, I’d hardly call it ungodly.”
Steve made a soft noise of agreement, “Well, as an old man, you see, I’m usually in bed by half five. So, this is practically midnight for me.”
“You and your Grandpa-ish ways.” Bucky replied, rolling his eyes, “I don’t believe you, but alas, you are the elderly and I was raised right, Sir.”
Steve put on his best impression of an old man and fixed Bucky with a fond look, “It’s so nice to see that some of the youth today are still well-mannered. Many of those scoundrels are so rude nowadays, you wouldn’t have seen that behaviour in my day.”
“It’s okay, Old Man Steve, we’ll get you back to your care home, it must be time for your soaps.” Bucky retorted, hardly able to keep the laughter out his voice.
Steve’s facade broke and he fell onto his back, arm slung over his eyes as his entire body shook with the force of his laughter, “I don’t think I’ve laughed this much since we got Tony drunk and he tried to give us an in-depth explanation as to why it was bad for Bruce to have rough sex.”
The brunet recoiled and mimicked throwing up, “That’s not an image that I needed.”
“It was funny though.” Steve retorted, pushing himself back into a seated position, “You never did answer my question. What brings you here?”
Bucky sighed and tugged a hand through his hair, looking over Steve’s shoulder at the horizon, “Had an argument with my Dad. Got kicked out. Came here.”
Steve arched an eyebrow at him, “And you planned to sleep on the beach?”
He shrugged, “Where else do I have?”
“Come home with me.” Steve replied.
“Woah, at least take me to dinner first, Steviedoll.” Bucky teased.
Steve snorted, “Don’t be crude. I’m offering my sofa for you to sleep on, nothing else.”
The brunet faux-pouted, “Damn, there go my plans of getting in Captain America’s pants.”
“You need to up your game if that’s how you seduce people.” The blond teased.
“Trust me, doll, you wouldn’t stand a chance against my charm.” Bucky warned, grinning wolfishly when Steve arched an eyebrow in intrigue.
“That so?” He replied, shaking his head when Bucky firmly nodded his head, “Very well. Back to my offer, do you want to crash?”
“Should you be offering up your home to a semi-stable man that you met on the beach? I could be an axe murderer or a terrorist sent to take you down.” Bucky retorted.
Steve threw him an unimpressed look, “You know I could have a background check done on you in seconds, right?”
“Who’s to say that you already haven’t?” He responded, arching an eyebrow at the Captain.
“You got me there.” Steve held his hands up, “But, I haven’t, to clarify. Not yet at least.”
Bucky chuckled softly, “I don’t know if I could be flattered or insulted.”
“Both?” He suggested.
Bucky nodded in agreement, “Both is good.”
“So, sofa? Yes or no?” Steve questioned.
The brunet rolled his eyes, “Stubborn, much?”
The blond grinned and nodded, “Yep! It’s one of my best qualities.”
Bucky snorted, “One of your most annoying, more like.” He took a deep breath at Steve’s expectant look and tugged a hand through his hair. “Are you sure? I don’t want to encroach.”
The blond shook his head, “I am. You’re not.”
“What will your team say, Steven? It’s not very careful of you.” Bucky teased.
Steve arched an eyebrow at him and pulled his phone from his pocket, “JARVIS, can I get a background check on Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes?”
“ Of course, Sir, one second .” The disembodied voice whispered and Bucky narrowed his eyes at the phone, “ Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th Infantry, born to Winnifred Jesibelle and George Henry Barnes on March 10, 1986, graduated M.I.T in 2008 with a degree in Mechanical Engineering. He joined the military in the very same year and was shipped out to Afghanistan for two tours shortly after his enlistment. During his time in the military, he became a Sergeant and gained a masters degree in Mechanical Engineering. He was given an honourable discharge after an incident which cost him his arm. He has been awarded a Purple Heart and Medal of Honor. He has no criminal convictions and is an upstanding member of society. ”
“Thank you, Jarvis.” Steve replied, throwing Bucky a look that said I told you so .
“ You’re welcome, Captain .”
Steve turned his phone off and tucked it back into his pocket, “So, now, will you take me up on my offer?”
Bucky grinned, “It’s kinda creepy how quickly he was able to get that information.”
Steve shrugged his shoulders, “You get used to it, eventually. But, he’s a super computer, his entire job is speedy information retrieval.”
Bucky made a noise of agreement, “I guess so.”
“Now, I’ve got a sofa bed with your name on it, what do you say we call it a night?” Steve whispered.
Bucky nodded and stood up, the bones in his back popping as he did. He groaned and stretched his arms above his head, relishing in the pull against his muscles, “Lead the way, Captain.”
Steve stood up, dusted himself off, and led Bucky away from the reserve, back into the main city.
They walked in comfortable silence, Bucky taking in the many buildings that they passed from Estate Agents to Artisan Coffee Shops, and it wasn’t long before they stopped in front of a brownstone apartment, Steve digging his keys out of his pocket before leading him into the building and up to his apartment on the top floor.
As they pushed into the flat, Bucky let out a low whistle as he took in the interior of Steve’s apartment- pristine white walls and stained oak beams. For a brownstone, it was spacious; the open plan design bringing more depth to the apartment. Bucky glanced at the two doors to the right of him and decided that one must be Steve’s bedroom and the other the bathroom.
Bucky’s gaze fell on the corner sofa, shoved next to the window, overlooking the streets below, and he inched towards it, fingers ghosting over the arm, practically melting at the velvet-like fabric under his fingertips.
“Nice place.” Bucky muttered.
“Thank you.” Steve replied, chucking his keys down on the side before shucking off his shirt and throwing in the wash basket outside one of the doors.
Bucky hastily averted his gaze, willing himself to ignore the gorgeous planes of muscle that had been exposed to him, “I wasn’t expecting you to have such an extravagant place. I expected you to be a more simplistic person.”
“I am, but with the amount of times that Nat and Sam have crashed here, I need a bit of luxury for those divas.” Steve retorted, rolling his eyes fondly.
“Now, that I can believe.” Bucky replied, still hastily avoiding looking at Steve’s very exposed chest.
“I’m gonna grab a shower.” Steve pointed at one of the doors and grinned, “You okay out here by yourself?” Bucky nodded, “Good, there’s water in the fridge and I’ve got Netflix, so make yourself at home.”
He nodded again and settled himself down onto the sofa, groaning when the cushions sank beneath his weight, making him feel weightless as he leant back into them. He reached for the remote and turned the TV on, flicking to Netflix before he scrolled through the endless amounts of films and TV shows, settling on a British-made documentary about the seven continents and their animal inhabitants.
When Steve emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, Bucky made the mistake of looking up and nearly choked on his tongue. Steve had neglected to take a change of clothes into the bathroom with him and had exited with little more than a towel slung loosely around his hips, exposing the delicious v of muscle on his stomach that disappeared underneath his towel.
Bucky’s mouth went dry and his brain short circuited.
“I-” He cut himself off with a pitiful whimper, “Nice shower?”
“Very.” Steve replied, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips, and he nodded towards the TV, “Nice documentary?”
Bucky hummed softly, not trusting himself to speak through the fear of not being able to form a coherent sentence, “It’s- yeah.”
Steve smiled and nodded towards his bedroom, “I’m gonna go get dressed.”
“Please don’t.” Bucky whispered and cringed as soon as the words left his lips, hoping that Steve hadn’t heard him, but, once again, luck failed him.
“I heard that.” Steve replied as he pushed into his room, shutting the door behind him.
Bucky groaned and buried his face into a pillow, “Fuck!” He yelled into it, wanting to cry from sheer embarrassment.
He hoped that he was able to get back on his feet sooner rather than later; for no other reason than he would physically combust if he had to live with Steve and his unfairly attractive presence for a prolonged period of time.
It turned out that Bucky had taken a little longer than he expected to get his life back together and he had had to stay with Steve, in all his muscled glory, until well into the winter.
To say that the sexual tension between them was thick was an understatement. It was suffocating, everything they did added to the heady atmosphere. Every fight over the remote, ending with heaving chests, Steve straddling his waist and pinning Bucky to the floor. Every touch was electrified, sparks flying between them when their hands brushed whilst doing the washing up or when Steve brushed past him, hands on his hips to steady him.
Bucky could only hand so much sexual tension before he burst into flames from the sheer need to be touched. Speaking of hands, there was only so much that his right one and a too-long shower could do to relieve him of his lust.
It was only a matter of time before one of them snapped. If only Bucky could have known how soon it would have been, he might have been a little more prepared.
They had just come back in from a grocery run, deciding to brave the harsh Brooklyn weather in favour of getting more supplies, and Steve, in his unfairly attractive way, had taken it upon himself to take all the bags, refusing to let Bucky carry a thing.
“Come on, Stevie.” Bucky hissed, “Stop being stubborn, lemme take something!”
“You’re my guest. Keep your hands to yourself, I got this handled.” Steve replied, kicking at Buky’s ankle when he made a move to take one of the bags.
“I’m hardly a guest anymore.” Bucky retorted, “I’ve been living in your apartment since August.”
“Semantics.” Steve muttered dismissively.
“Stubborn bastard.” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting like a petulant child.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Get used to it.”
Bucky pulled ahead of him as they reached the apartment and fished his keys out of his pocket, pushing into the building and holding the door open for Steve. He narrowed his eyes at the blond’s back when he neglected to thank him.
“You’re welcome.” He hissed, shutting the door behind him and following Steve up the stairs.
“Go fuck yourself.” Steve called back, a wide grin on his face as he stopped outside the apartment’s door.
“Do it yourself, coward.” Bucky shot back, pushing his key into the lock and shoving the door open with his shoulder, refusing to hold it open in protest of Steve’s neglect to thank him.
Steve set the bags down on the counter and shucked off his coat, thoughtfully chewing on his bottom lip as he unwound his scarf and hung it up beside his jacket. Bucky fixed him with a wary look as he pulled off his own jacket and placed it on the hook beside Steve’s, trying to ignore how right it looked to see his stuff with Steve’s.
Bucky kicked his shoes off and pushed them back against the wall, making a soft noise of acknowledgement when Steve whispered his name.
He turned when Steve didn’t immediately respond and whimpered when Steve’s fingers curled around his knitted jumper, tugging him forward into a bruising kiss. Bucky groaned into it and pressed back against Steve, hands coming to rest on his shoulder. Steve’s hands came to settle on his hips before he picked him up and turned them around, settling Bucky against the counter.
Bucky spread his legs, moaning in appreciation when Steve settled between them, hands coming to settle on his thighs, gently massaging the muscle as they got lost in the kiss, tongues circling around each other. Touching. Exploring. Tasting.
Steve pulled away, chuckling when Bucky chased his lips, and rested his forehead against Bucky’s, “I- wow.”
“Yeah.” Bucky breathed, a blinding grin on his face, “I was wondering how long it would take one of us to crack.”
Steve laughed softly and grinned, “This long, apparently. I was hoping that you’d make the first move, but that comment that you made earlier just snapped my resolve and I had to do something before I literally imploded from sexual frustration.”
Bucky made a noise of agreement, “You and me both.”
“So, it’s a good thing that I made a move?” Steve whispered.
“Yeah, any longer and Nat and Sam would have to be cleaning bits of us off the walls.” The brunet teased, “You know what this means now though?” Steve made a noise of acknowledgement, “You’re stuck with me.”
“That’s actually something that I wanted to talk to you about.” Steve whispered, “I was going to wait until Christmas and be cheesy, but now’s as a good time as any.”
“Stevie?” Bucky murmured, brow furrowed in concern, “What’s wrong?”
Steve squeezed his thigh in reassurance, “Nothing, I just- will you move in with me? You live here anyway, might as well make it official. It saves you money as well.”
Bucky gasped softly and gave Steve a soft look, cupping his cheeks and staring into his eyes with a disbelieving look, “What did I do to deserve you?” He breathed, “Even if it didn’t save me money, I’d still move in. I’ve been petrified about the day that I’d have to leave. I’ve made a little home for myself here and I wasn’t ready to let it go.”
Steve pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, a breathless laugh falling from his lips, “You don’t have to let go. I want you here, all day, every day. I don’t want to let you go.”
“So, don’t.” Bucky replied, “Hold me tight and keep me here. Let me make a home in your heart and live there.”
Steve nodded, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against Bucky’s again, “For as long as you’ll stay.”
“I’m planning to stay for a long time.” Bucky whispered, “That okay?”
“More than.” Steve replied, pressing their lips together again. However, he let this kiss deepen, getting lost in the feel of Bucky’s lips against his own.
As they familiarised themselves with each others bodies, Steve wondered if this, what he had with Bucky, was what having a soulmate felt like.