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Bucky doesn't remember Peggy Carter, but she remembers him. Which is hilarious given her memory issues.
"It helps that you look the same," she teases. It's a good day, the nurse had cheerfully told him when he'd signed in at reception, and he's both relieved and disappointed because good days come with their own challenges: "What's wrong, Sargent, did Steve do something impossibly dangerous again?"
His frown is expected, and she shakes her head with an exasperated sort of smile.
Peggy's heard all the stories before, even if she doesn't remember some of them. She knows what Steve is like. She's been where Bucky is, or was. When Bucky's life had been spent diving head first after that brat from Brooklyn. Before the fall. Before Hydra. Before the bunker.
"He's lucky he's indestructible," Peggy says, "but you have to remember that you aren't. Afraid to say, you're all the brains now, Mr Barnes."
He snorts, and she laughs, and despite the fact that this visit is a game of pretending to be someone he isn't anymore, for Peggy Carter he doesn't mind one bit.
Bucky thinks he may have loved her at some point in his life. Not the same way as Steve. But. He'd had sisters back then, and they're both gone, and Peggy. Peggy reminds him of them. When the days are good, Peggy catches him up on "recent news" of them, rolling her eyes and telling him how Tally had gotten a talking to by the head military doctor of her ward, how Rebecca's gone and fallen in love with another fool. When the days are bad and she doesn't remember who he is, she cries about how she misses her friends, and how heartbroken they are that their brother had died and there was no body to bury, and Peggy blames herself because she'd given the intel on that mission and she'd essentially killed him and -
He doesn't blame her. Of course not.
But in those moments where she breaks, and Bucky's heart clenches tight, he's glad.
In Peggy's mind, the before and after is blurred, and through her fractured memories, he lives between the mirage of what was and what he'd missed. It isn't the same as having lived those moments as she remembers them - as Bucky taking tea with her, or pouting as he's outnumbered when his sisters are in town. But. Peggy remembers enough for the both of them.
Besides, despite her disease, and unlike Steve, she moves forward in whatever way she can. It's never about looking back for her because the past was hard and bloody and awful, and the present - her present, on this visit, is bright and new and - "Oh, my friend, Maria's given birth to my godson. Tony's precious!"
Bucky stiffens in his seat.
Today is a bad day, but a good day.
Peggy doesn't remember him, but she isn't distressed. She thinks he's just a kind visitor. Usually, he likes these days the most because then Peggy is a friend he makes and remakes all on his own, just as he is, and he's grateful. But. Tony is. A difficult topic.
Not for the reasons the common person thinks.
At least, not all the reasons.
While they'd mostly worked through the trauma of Steve's betrayal, he and Tony aren't exactly friends. Though, Tony had done his best to atone where Bucky had floundered for anything more than an awkward "thank you, and I'm sorry again for ruining your life", it was a poor exchange really even if Tony had thought it was funny with time, distance and a twisted sense of humor to see him through it.
Not only had Tony ensured the American government couldn't claim Bucky or make demands upon his military service, Tony had also provided housing, food, clothing, medical care, mechanical upkeep and gainful employment. Not to mention given Bucky just a little bit of his life before Hydra, i.e: visits to Peggy.
Ever since the Rogues' return, all Steve had wanted was to see her again which was distraction enough, really, given that Bucky would be spared the attention.
Bucky hadn't expected to be allowed to visit her until Tony had extended the invitation. After all, what were the chances that she remembered him? And which him, on top of that? Since she'd run SHIELD and had run-ins with Hydra and its Fist for decades after Bucky had been declared dead.
Steve had initially been happy to let Bucky tag along, regardless of Bucky's apprehension, but Steve had quickly felt left out when, on good days, Peggy was more interested in catching Bucky up on the news of his family and bantering about office politics that the Bucky of before had always been privy to because his sisters were horrendous gossips.
Soon after, Steve had said, overly casual, and not a little miffed, "You should probably get your own time to see her".
Bucky knows that somewhere (and more importantly, some when), he loves Steve, probably more than he loves Peggy, if such a thing could be measured. But the Bucky that loved Steve was a different Bucky altogether, and the Bucky that stands before Steve on a regular basis isn't the same guy. Steve has trouble accepting that. And as Peggy's condition seesaws, so too does the solace Steve had taken in visiting her.
It's hard to see a loved one deteriorate, Bucky doesn't hold it against him.
Though, Tony does. Particularly when it results in an altercation involving Peggy's actual husband, and agitating Peggy so much as a result that no one is allowed to see her until she's more stable.
There's a heavily maintained visiting schedule created specifically to avoid such situations, and Bucky had never questioned it. Memories are fickle things, he should know.
Steve, though, had quickly grown suspicious once the relief of being back had worn off. As did any attempt to be civil and courteous to the man that had metaphorically been raked through the coals in order to bring them back for the sake of preparing for battle with a Titan.
The ensuing argument about why such a schedule existed had ended in Steve storming off, slamming the door hard enough that the frame had cracked, and Tony trying to calm the panic attack rising in his chest in a wave of white sea foam, turning Tony's skin paper white in his terror.
Friday had demanded everyone leave the room after that, and while Bucky had lingered to ensure everyone else didn't give Tony any problems, he wanted nothing more than to remain as Tony sat heavily on the floor, pulled himself tight and hidden his face in his arms.
Bucky wasn't as great with social cues as he used to be, as Peggy sometimes muses, but he didn't think Tony should've had to be alone.
Friday coolly assured him that Tony didn't need his help.
Nonetheless, Bucky knows his strengths, and had kept guard of the perimeter, acting as a terrifying sentinel and scaring everyone away from the conference room until Tony had shakily pulled himself together.
Pausing at the cracked door frame about twenty minutes later, Tony took one look at him and the suspiciously empty front room, and nodded his thanks before disappearing into the elevator headed into his workshop below.
Bucky did not approve of that because. Tony probably needed rest not work. He should be resting not working. Not, what he'd later find out on his next visit to the basement, building another suit because that's what he does when he feels scared, and threatened, and alone. Because no one's going to protect Tony from Steve, no one's going to help him, but that's not true because Bucky could do it, Bucky could -)
"Did I lose you?" Peggy tsks, disapproving. "I know talk of men not being interested in children is nothing but misogyny at play. Why, I was just starting to like you, Yasha."
"Sorry," he lets his 'r's roll with an accent that's more familiar than the Brooklyn. "I didn't mean it like that, I was just...thinking, that's all. Your godson, you were saying?"
She nods divisively. "Yes, his name is Tony," she repeats. "He's precious. He looks like Howard's mini-me, but he's a darling. I can tell."
It's the first time Peggy's mentioned Tony to Bucky, and when he asks Friday to confirm the relationship (who needs Google when you have an all-knowing AI who studies the internet for fun?), Friday's answer is defensive. "It's not public record considering her ties to SHIELD."
"Probably for the best," Bucky agrees, Tony had already been a target at seventeen as Howard's son, throwing Peggy's enemies into the mix was asking for too much.
"Yes, well, Rogers was not so easily convinced," and if she could, Bucky has no doubt that the AI would sniff in derision.
His smile is apologetic, then, "Were they close, Tony and Peggy?"
"My predecessor would know," Friday replies, and it's not an answer she seems very keen to give, but it turns out he doesn't need her confirmation.
The next few visits with Peggy involve many a story about Tony at various points in his life: his first circuit board at age four, his first foray into robotics at age thirteen (a toaster named Ash that Bucky had seen in the lab), his first rudimentary AI at fifteen (Homer) and his first fully functioning AI at seventeen (Jarvis, named for the Stark family's loyal butler). Peggy seems to know of Tony's every success, and trouble; accomplishments, failures and losses and triumphs. Tony has her on speed dial, she informs Bucky one day with a grin, and he's a good boy, her Tony, he calls every Sunday if he can't steal her away for brunch with his best friend Rhodey.
Until they reach the Afghanistan portion of her memories, of course, and that recollection has her rattling off angrily about some very classified information about how SHIELD won't find her godson, and that she's moments away from stringing the new director by his toes, and for a moment, Bucky's alarmed (and privately, very amused).
But the next time he sees Fury, the man is pointedly avoiding his eyes, the heat of his embarrassment actually prompting him to remove his trench coat during the meeting. Apparently a feat that's so shocking that Tony shudders, "It's like seeing a turtle without its shell."
With Peter quipping unthinkingly, "You're naked, Mr Fury, sir."
Which helps exactly no one at keeping their composure.
Nonetheless, the next time Bucky visits Peggy, he can't help but ask, "When was the last time you've seen him, your godson?"
"I don't remember," is her thoughtful hum. Then, "Who did you say you were, dear?"
Bucky smiles, tells her a name, James this time, and spends the visit playing checkers.
Tony, in her mind, is seven. He's climbing trees now. He rides his bike. He can't have a dog because Maria is allergic which is why Peggy and her husband got one instead, its the perfect excuse to get Tony over for regular visits, Peggy tells him, Howard's such a fuddy duddy now, he was much more fun before he'd met Stane.
Her memory meanders as it does on days like this.
Sometimes she forgets what they're talking about, and he has to introduce himself again.
Sometimes she's in her twenties. Sometimes she's just celebrated her sixtieth, and dear lord, Bucky? Before her mind trails, and they're discussing politics relevant to the early nineties.
Bucky runs over his time because he's allowed to, the nurse told him when he'd signed in that Peggy's husband can't make it this afternoon so Peggy's got the next hour free. This is why he does not expect Tony to show up, not that Peggy recognizes him today either.
"Uh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were still here," Tony says to Bucky, eyes Bambi wide.
"No, no, uh the nurse said it was fine. I didn't know you were coming to see her."
"I wasn't supposed to," is his uncomfortable reply, and now Bucky's standing too, making aborted movements to leave and verbally stumbling over each other in an overly polite attempt to let each other take the spot, something Peggy watches silently before she's complaining, "You can both very well visit me at once. My goodness, I've never been this popular! Do fetch some tea for us, one of you?"
Bucky decides to go because he's been sitting with Peggy for an hour already, and instead of muscling in on Tony's visit, he asks an orderly to send some tea to Peggy's room and leaves for the day.
Tony finds him in the common kitchen at two in the morning.
Though their relationship is bare bones, they share the hour. It's expected, all things considered, this time of the day is kinder and quieter with no one around but the other, and without Steve's overbearing shadow - hoarding what bits of his past he can claim - in that period of time, Bucky feels more himself than he ever does during the day.
Which is why it is neither the Soldier's instinct nor the Bucky of before's sarcasm that answers Tony's disgruntled, "You got me in trouble."
"I'm sorry?"
Tony huffs. "You know, she likes you. She might not remember you every day, but she does. Like you, that is. You not coming back made her think I scared you off."
And that thought is ridiculous because Tony right now is wearing the softest and most faded of his "tinkering t-shirts", his hair is soft and curly without the product, and unruly stubble's already starting to settle in. There's nothing scary about him right then, but that doesn't mean Tony doesn't terrify Bucky for reasons that have nothing to do with the bunker or the repulsor cannons or Tony's legion of Iron Man suits, and more to do with how exactly a man could forgive as much as does, how he's still standing from the hurts he's endured.
Bucky apologizes (because what else can he do?) making Tony sigh and say, "That's not why I...listen, you and Aunt Peggy are good for each other. Don't let me get in the way of that, okay? I promise I'm not trying to chase you off. I just. I want her to be happy. And you make her happy so. Don't mess it up, okay?"
With a nod, and a strange feeling in his chest that feels like the weight of responsibility and a blooming sense of trust, they go their separate ways for the night.
When next Tony unintentionally interrupts a visit with Peggy - it was Steve this time who couldn't make it, apparently Peggy had told him that she had a husband and she was happy, and it would make her happy to know he's moved on - Tony damn near walks right out again to avoid the same situation as last time.
Peggy isn't having it.
"Sit down, Tony," she orders, voice sharp like a commanding officer with none of the patience to deal with a wayward subordinate. "Yasha and I were discussing Reagan."
"You hate Reagan."
"So do you," she reminds.
"Does he not hate Reagan?" Tony asks, brows furrowed in a glare Bucky's way.
"He is not a fan," Bucky replies dryly.
"Then why are we discussing Reagan?"
Peggy sighs dramatically. "Because sometimes we're in need of a good bitch session. So, Reagan, thoughts?"
Bucky's never laughed so much in his life, his pleasure compounded by the engaged sparkle in Peggy's eyes and the animated gestures that couple Tony's occasionally outlandish declarations.
They leave together after taking an early dinner with Peggy: "Taking your meal at six, Aunt Peg?" Tony whistles, "You truly live the life of a rockstar. Next you'll tell me you sleep at eight-thirty like the party animal you are!" And it's - probably the best day Bucky can remember having.
Tony, for the way he's comfortably slouched in the elevator beside him and his smile absent on his red lips, probably feels the same. His words are a little slurred with exhausted pleasure, though it does nothing to lessen the sincerity in his words as he says, "I really don't mean to hog your visits."
"Technically I'm the one hogging them," Bucky points out, shooting him the same tired smile.
Tony waves this off. "Still. I...usually I just take whichever slots are available. I don't have the most consistent schedule." Which makes sense when factoring in Tony's various full time commitments that range from everything to world famous innovator to owner of the biggest corporation in the world to the Iron Man. "I don't want her to be alone so I never actually claim a time to see her."
"So you don't see her often," Bucky concludes.
"Not as often as I'd like, no," is his wan reply. "But...it's good to hear her laugh again."
It occurs to Bucky, like a bolt from the blue, that Tony's probably had less and less chance to see Peggy much at all since Steve was defrosted. Not only does Steve prefer Peggy's attention to himself, it isn't like Tony's responsibilities were noticeably less than before either. It's decided then and there that that just wouldn't do, not when Peggy clearly loves Tony, and Peggy also happens to be the only family Tony can claim outside of the one he's built for himself. "You should visit her more often."
At that, Tony's smile turns sarcastic. "Well, if you say so."
"No, I mean. Whenever I have a slot, we can visit her together. That way, even if you can't make it, she'll still have me." That would at least increase Tony's chances to spend time with her. It's a good idea, Bucky thinks, so he's a little offended when Tony just stares at him blankly.
Then, haltingly, Tony asks, "You'd...do that? Share her time with me?"
"I wouldn't have gone to visit her at all without you," Bucky reminds. Then, because he's starting to feel the uncomfortable knowledge that things are getting sentimental and emotional, and he's Very Much Not Equipped For It, he adds, "Besides, she told me about how she got you out of the Delaware fiasco of 2004. I figure, if she can talk you out of shit like that, you probably need her more than I do."
At that Tony splutters, and whatever equilibrium they'd found is established once more.
Tony doesn't always come with Bucky to visit Peggy, but it becomes a regular enough thing.
Peggy almost always remembers Tony. Sometimes she thinks he's Howard, and that makes things. Uncomfortable. But most of the time, Tony is Tony to her, and Bucky is. Whoever he wants to be.
Peggy can't seem to mentally compute Bucky's appearance with Tony's presence which makes sense since Bucky's closer to Peggy's age than Tony's.
Though hilariously, it does happen that she remembers Bucky and does a double take to look at Tony again, then wonders aloud, "Bucky, you look so young. What have you been using on your face?"
Thinking for a moment, Bucky replies, "Honestly? Shampoo."
Both Tony and Peggy are appropriately affronted, and after they leave, Tony buys him multiple expensive face creams from some high end store and instructs him to use them for the love of god, you're not an animal, Barnes.
Bucky cackles the entire time.
Usually, Bucky pretends to be a friend of Tony's.
It's an addictive feeling because Peggy happily divulges all of Tony's childhood stories with a glee that makes Tony embarrassed but pleased. Between all that, Peggy makes suggestions for places Tony should take Bucky - because Bucky likes using the Yasha persona, its as close to this Bucky as he can get - and Tony obliges.
Peggy won't always remember making these recommendations when the next visit arrives, but Tony's casual reminder of "being a friend" is enough to keep the conversation going, and for Peggy to play along with remembering.
Bucky finds that just as he does for her, Peggy doesn't mind playing the role for Tony.
Plus, Bucky gets some great trips out of it.
Tony takes him to Disney World, Venice beach, Mesa Verde National Park, the Kennedy Space Station and Niagara Falls, with some combination of the kids or the New Avengers tagging along under the guise of it being a "team building" exercise. He's got multiple cheesy t-shirts and a bunch of Polaroids to go with them. Not to mention all the hole in the wall pizza places, Chinese takeaways and bagel stores Tony takes him to when they don't have the time to travel state to state.
The point is, Bucky has fun, and Tony looks relaxed, and Peggy looks pleased as punch to hear their stories.
On another visit, Peggy frets over Tony while Bucky fetches Peggy's usual tea tray from the kitchens.
By the time he gets back to Peggy's room, she's forgotten Bucky's earlier introduction, and is giving him an appraising look. He pours them all tea, scolds Tony for putting too much sugar in his, reminding him you have heart problems, stop trying to give yourself diabetes on top of it, and just as Bucky's sipping, Peggy says, "Well, Tony, I always knew you carried a torch for Bucky Barnes as a child, but this is ridiculous. Your boyfriend looks just like him!"
In unison, they splutter.
Tony, as usual, bounces back first and decides that nothing would make him happier than to embarrass Bucky: "Aw, c'mon, Aunt Peg, you didn't have to give away why I fancy him! He'll think it's just for his face and not just his body, for shame."
She scoffs. "Please, if he was an idiot, I don't think you'd care for either." In a stage whisper, Peggy tells Bucky, "He tried dating dumb, pretty people before. I think they drove him to cocaine."
Delightfully scandalized, Tony tells her, "You told Howard it was because he gave me a complex."
"He did," is her sniffed reply, "he drove you to self destruction via idiots. I'll never forgive him." With a prim smile, Peggy asks Bucky, "So, what are your interests then?"
"Oh," Bucky stutters. "Uh, well..." He can't say he's adept at killing people, that's just not a good conversation to bring up during tea.
Tony, of course, disagrees, and tells her exactly that.
Peggy's eyes go shrewd. "Which agency are you with?"
"The Avengers," Tony replies in his stead. "New tactical defense group, it's run by Carol. You remember her right?"
"Oh, yes, the lovely young woman that has Rhodey in tangles," Peggy recalls. "Good for her, head of her own unit. She's brilliant, and I have no doubt that she keeps you in line." She says in a way that has Bucky thinking that Peggy will call Carol at her earliest convenience to confirm that he's being put through his paces.
Tony smiles angelically as Bucky dutifully replies, "Yes ma'am."
"Hmm, he's polite too, maybe he'll be a good influence on you," Peggy tells Tony who feigns hurt.
"I don't need a good influence, I am the good influence!"
She pats his hand comfortingly. "I love you darling, but if you're anything at all, you're a force of nature."
And Bucky can't disagree, not with the way Tony continues to light up and up and up as the visit goes on. Peggy indulging every spark, and fanning every grin and laugh. Tony looks younger, the professional mask of his slipping as the weary lines of his face splits with his happiness. Bucky's in awe, and not a little jealous.
Peggy, of course, notices this, and after sending Tony off to put the tea tray away with the reasoning that, "Your boyfriend fetched it, it's only right you put it away." Tony toddles off, leaving them alone.
Which is when Peggy tells Bucky, "You love him."
And Bucky's so startled his head snaps in surprise at her direction. Like the fact that Bucky was following Tony leave the room wasn't some indication of how stupidly smitten he already is. "I..."
"Oh, you didn't know," Peggy says with a tut and a smirk. "Perhaps, not so clever after all."
His blush burns so hot he can feel it beneath his hair, and she chuckles gently. "I don't blame you," she continues, "Tony has that way of getting under your skin." Then with a thoughtful frown she says, "Howard really has given him a complex though so when you tell him and he doesn't believe you, don't take it personally. Despite what he pretends, even when he's denying himself love, he's very good at nurturing it. I should hope you know that."
What can Bucky say to that except to nod in agreement? Because. It's true, isn't it?
While they aren't actually romantic partners, Tony's certainly showed he cares for Bucky; that he considers his happiness and comfort levels and personhood in a way Steve doesn't. And Bucky is grateful, but. Does that mean he's in love?
"Well, that hardly matters," she scoffs, as if reading his thoughts. With a mischievous grin, she informs, "Not if I don't like you anyway. There's not nearly enough protective people over Tony, and I'm not what they refer to as a battleaxe for nothing."
About a week later, Peggy doesn't remember anything. Tony included.
Peggy rarely gets agitated even when she's like this, but it's obvious by her demeanor that she's on her guard.
Bucky's used to it, Tony. Is not.
Horrifyingly enough, it's up to Bucky to keep everything light and sociable, and though it takes the better half of their visit, eventually, Peggy relaxes enough to flash a smile.
Tony's quieter, but no less pleased to spend time with her even if she has no idea who he is.
He remains this way through the next few visits he can make it to when Peggy's memory doesn't bounce back as it usually does, but Bucky can tell he's worried. The doctor has no concrete answers, the uncertainty is arguably worse.
Tony manages the entirety of their latest visit with the polite cheer he's employed with Peggy as of late, but once they're out the door, Bucky's got his arms around him and Tony is burying his face into the lee of Bucky's neck.
Bucky doesn't say anything, and Tony doesn't either.
Neither of them lets go until they have to, and when they leave the building, Tony's fingers fit in the spaces between his.
Two visits later, with no improvement from Peggy, he and Tony make to leave. However, Peggy stops them with a request for a hug, and even if its just a hug, Tony's eyes look a little glassy, and just before he pulls away entirely, she tells him, "I love you."
He's so surprised, his breath audibly catches. "You remember me?"
"No," she replies, smile sad and heartbreakingly regretful, "but I remember that I love you so don't forget, lord knows I do that enough."
Bucky doesn't push for his hug, in fact, he's too busy checking to see if Tony's okay that when Peggy addresses him, he startles.
Her eyes are sharp, her chin stubborn. "Barnes, you said your name was?"
He straightens. "Ma'am."
Her gaze roves over his face before she finds whatever she's looking for, takes a breath that makes her expression soften just so as she tells him, with a squeeze of Tony's hands in hers, "You take care of him, you understand me?"
Tony's chuckle is watery, his lashes heavy with tears.
Bucky smiles softly and promises, "Yes ma'am."