Work Text:
Super Trouper - ABBA
If I can't be with you - R5
There was a line of fans outside the theatre - those who hadn't bought the VIP pack. They were all giddy, waiting to walk in the dark place to listen to the band they've been asking for years to come in their city. But now Guiding Light was doing better, they were getting more recognition, and the sales of the second album had managed to give them a true reason to expand their tour destinations.
James - or as his fans called him, Bucky -, Carol, Natasha and Clint strolled out of the bus to greet them quickly before walking in the theatre, putting on smiles for their fans.
An hour later, as Peter, their photograph and filmmaker, continued to vlog their preparations for the show, Bucky managed to find some time alone to breathe. He couldn't stop looking at his custom guitar pick, and wondered where he was. Wondered where the man on the picture was, at this time.
It was James' birthday, after all, and the tenth one without him.
Three rhythmic knocks at the trailer door signalled that he needed to get out, that he had to be on stage in one minute. So he opened the door, the technician placed his earpiece in and hooked it to the set attached to his belt.
And so Bucky walked on stage, and a smile came on his lips when the crowd cheered for the band. At least, there were some people he would be able to hold on to.
✨
As they walked back to the bus, the venue cleared out and the sky pitch black, everyone started undoing the drums and getting the speakers in the bus, picking up what was theirs and leaving to the venue what didn't belong to the band. Bucky was the last one to wait for the bus, helping out Pepper for the last round to make sure they had everything.
"Bucky! The birthday man!" James' head snapped up and he turned around, trying to figure out where the voice came from. "There you are, I've been waiting since the end of the show to see you."
And then James saw Steve running up to him. Well, it was Steve, but not really Steve. Both men were past the point of being recognizable to each other, after so many years apart.
"You punk-ass little shit." Tears collected in James' eyes before he could stop them. "I haven't gotten news from you since -"
"1985?" James just ran into Steve's arms, ignoring that he was tired and drained from the performance, desperately clinging to Steve. "I'm sorry. Duty called too much. Happy birthday, little man."
"I thought you were dead," James choked out. "How long has it been since you came back?"
"Like, two days? I ran into your sister yesterday at the supermarket, and she said you were in town for the week."
"Not anymore." James wanted to clutch tighter, to never leave Steve's arms. "We...we're flying to LA for the Grammys. I'm sorry -"
"Hey, it's okay." Steve just patted his back, leaning even more into the hug. "I'm not going anywhere yet. Just ring the bell at our old place whenever you want, okay? Now go, the Grammys are waiting for you!"
James just nodded, thanked him and got on the bus, his heart constricted in his chest. This was going to be a long three days of preparations.
✨
The moment the ceremony ended, James said goodbye to his band mates and ran outside to holler a cab. He was not going to miss his only chance at finally seeing his best man.
He clumsily packed his suitcase, throwing everything in the most random order - he'd wash them all when he would be in New York. Checking for his passport and wallet, he ran out of the room and called the elevator, tapping his foot like a bunny. The ride down felt excruciatingly long, but eventually he made it back to the cab and asked the driver to hurry to LAX.
From there, everything was a blur. He had to run through the paparazzis and the hoard of fans screaming for his attention, had to buy his ticket and register his suitcase, but eventually security guards were sent to escort him to the private lounge, where had time to breathe a little. The flight would leave in three hours and he needed to sleep. So he drifted off, after asking the security guards to wake him up when they would start boarding.
✨
James had hoped that his sister would come pick him up at JFK - at least, the paps knew her. But she had something else, and now Steve was going to pick Bucky up.
Steve was going to pick him up. In front of all the paparazzis.
His heart was pounding when the plane landed and he got a text from Steve, saying he was at the gate. James wanted to say no, to stay in the car and wait, but even he couldn't wait to see his best friend, so he simply replied with a little okay.
He was escorted out of the plane and until he was at the border of the gate, and at this point, he was too wound up to say anything. He could see his friend from afar, jumping at every little yell the paps or the fans made as they nearly stepped on each other. The men made eye contact, and James nodded as if to say it's gonna be alright Steve, I'm right here, I'll protect you. Just like in the old days.
Oh how James wanted to run, to take him in his arms, to never let go.
Finally, his suitcase rolled in and he prepared himself for the possible hit. He walked in the area, taking a quick glance at the photographs and the fans, smiling politely, before placing a careful hand on Steve's shoulder. "Let's go, huh?" Steve let down his guard a bit, a soft smile drawing on his lips before they walked out. "You okay, punk?"
"I'm fine, jerk. Now that I'm the taller one, I'm cool."
"Shut up." This was the third time James truly smiled since he had seen Steve at his doorstep, dressed up in his Marine Corps uniform and saying his last goodbye.
The drive to James' childhood home was calm. Their hands brushed several times while trying to get the water bottle between them, and James was surprised to see he was not the only one getting flustered. Only, Steve was better at playing it off.
✨
"So, you come here often?" Steve was so, so tired but still looking around. The place was bigger than Bucky had described it, and definitely a change from Steve's old home or the bunkers in Afghanistan and Iran. It felt...free.
"Not really, but I still have an extra key in case I'm in New York or just need a break, and Becca doesn't mind. I'm usually in England, which is what I told you about in the car. And I usually hang out at Natasha's place back in London, because she has the studio in her house." Bucky just shrugs, opening the fridge, desperate for any kind of drink. "Beer?"
"Oh yeah, I haven't had a good one in years!" Bucky couldn't keep the smile off his face nor his eyes off his friend for one second since the airport, and when they tipped their bottles to each other, fireworks went off in Bucky's stomach. "Oh yeah, that's the good stuff."
Sitting down on the couch, they just stared off in the distance, legs spread out on the footrests. "Hey Buck?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry for not keeping in touch. I don't know what got into me, I just couldn't -"
"Hey, Stevie. It's fine. You're alive, that's what matters. You're with me." Getting closer to Steve, Bucky passed his right arm around his friend's shoulders and smiled. "I'm staying with you 'til the end of the line, okay? Wherever you go."
Steve just looked away, holding back tears.
"So, tell me about...out there. If you want. Any pretty girls?"
Steve chuckles, looking down. "No, not really. I guess I just had my thoughts...elsewhere. It was awful, every day...I thought I was gonna die, Buck. Sometimes...sometimes I hoped that it would end, because after two years of having lost all contact...I lost all hope of getting back home." He put down his bottle, still almost full, and hid his face in his hands. No, Bucky would not see him as vulnerable. That was enough said.
"Hey, hey. Stevie. Look at me." Making circles on his back, putting down his beer - Bucky did everything to make sure Steve knew he was there for him. "You don't have to hide from me. You know you can trust me, Stevie."
"It's not about trust..." But Steve accepted the offer anyway, and started crying into Bucky's shoulder, holding on so tight Bucky was sure he would crush his bones in pieces. But it was okay. Bucky didn't mind getting crushed by his crush.
They stayed like that for a while, until Steve had ran out of tears and the sky was dark. He looked at Bucky, his only family in this stupidly big and cruel world. His only hope of ever recovering, even the slightest bit.
"You really should go to sleep. You look exhausted, Stevie." Like on cue, Steve yawned big and loud, leaning his head on Bucky's shoulder. He was so much heavier than Bucky could remember, and he would definitely not be able to carry Steve. "I'll go get blankets and pillows. Make yourself at home, and wake me up if you need anything, okay?"
A wordless answer was given before Steve crashed on the couch, so comfortable and soft and warm. Changing was not an option, at this point. He felt a weight fall on him, not covering his entire body, tickling his neck - cashmere. His head was propped up and, in seconds, was out like a light.
✨
In the morning, Bucky felt light and warm, still smelling the unfamiliar scent he had discovered in his sheets last night, but filled with dread that Steve had been just a dream. His answer was quickly given, though, because sleeping next to him was no other than his best friend.
It startled him at first, seeing Steve's face so close to his, but he guessed Steve had needed this. Steve needed him, and Bucky was happy to comply to his needs.
But Steve's mood changed quickly, his eyebrows coming together. He was angry, he was raging. He held on tightly to his pillow and Bucky was worried he'd have a nightmare, so he quickly placed his hand on top of Steve's.
"How dare you! He's all I ever needed!" His body tensing up, Steve continues to build up an anger that Bucky helps him contain by murmuring I'm here, Stevie, I'm here, listen to my voice, this is just a dream -
Steve starts crying. "No, no, no! Bucky, I'm sorry, you have to stay with me!" And Bucky's trying to get Steve out of this nightmare but it's not working, come on, Stevie, wake up!
And finally Steve wakes up, tears flowing out like endless rain, shaking, as his eyes wander around the room quickly, searching for something. He relaxes when he sees Bucky looking over him, squeezing his hand. "I woke you up?"
"No, I've been awake for a while. You wanna talk about it?"
Steve just shakes his head and slowly gets out of bed. "I'm starving. Maybe later." Deep breaths, deep breaths.
"Stevie." The bed dips next to him, a hand rests over his. "Are you sure -"
Everything is so blurry. Steve's hand on Bucky's cheek, Steve's lips on Bucky's lips. But it's over as fast as it happened. "Yeah, I'm sure."
Steve bolts up from the bed, leaving Bucky breathless and confused because holy shit Steve feels the same Steve feels the same am I dreaming? Am I dreaming? No, I'm not dreaming. I'm fine, oh my god, Steve feels the same! Shit, where is he?
Getting up from the bed, Bucky doesn't have to search around for long. Steve is simply eating a toast, his back hunched over the table. He looks depressed and lost, exactly what he must have looked like when he came home. "I'm sorry Buck. I don't know what came over me, I should have never -"
"I kinda liked it, to be honest." Bucky knows Steve needs honesty. Maybe that'll show him that he hasn't lost his best friend. "You know, if this was genuine, we can always continue to do that. I'd really like it, if that's what you want as well."
Steve is out of words and can literally hear his heartbeat in his ears. He spins around and knocks over the chair when he stands up. "You - you mean it? You really mean it?"
"Yeah." Bucky takes Steve's trembling hands in his, trying to keep his cool. "Yeah, I really mean it."
Steve is a mess of emotions, and oh fuck, he's been dreaming about this his entire life, been planning it perfectly in his head, but it's actually happening right now, and it's so perfect, even better than he imagined it would be. "You - I mean, I'm not dreaming?"
Bucky leans in and kisses Steve's knuckles, lips as smooth as a caress. "Does that feel real?"
Steve melts right there and then. He kisses Bucky again, desperate for the feel of their bodies pressed together, desperate to feel Bucky's arms around him. "I'm sorry I left you."
"It's okay. You're home now, Stevie. Everything is okay." When Bucky presses his face in Steve's neck, he smiles. The same smell as in the sheets. "When Becca took you in, you slept in my bed?"
"Sorry, the guest room...it was smelly and I didn't want to offend her, so..."
Bucky just kisses his forehead, his heart racing when he sees Steve's embarrassed and very pink face. "It was the best night I've had in months."
Steve just closes his eyes and clings to Bucky's shirt. He's finally home.
✨