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They don't talk about it. It isn't done. That doesn't make it fade though, not even for a moment. It's always there, simmering under the surface and making their skin feel too tight. Like if they're not careful they'll burst. Like the moment it's acknowledged, it'll all rush out of them and they'll never be able to put it back. Everyone will be able to see what they really are. They'll be stained with it and it'll never wash off.
So they never talk about it. Ever.
Because lancing that wound wouldn't allow it to heal. They'd be kept apart and that would hurt so much more. They'd kept it secret all their lives; neither of them was going to chance the other getting a blue ticket now.
The closest they'd ever gotten to talking about it had been rough. Really rough. Bucky had been cut off from the rest of them for two days and it had taken Dum Dum a bit of shrapnel to his leg and Steve two bullets to get him back. Steve was still moving pretty stiff when he dragged Bucky into his tent with the intent to stitch up the gash that was entirely too close for Steve's comfort to Bucky's eye.
They hadn't said a word. Bucky hadn't even bothered giving his usual protest of not needing 220 lbs of mother hen fussing over him. He had just sat there and let Steve start sewing him back together again.
Steve's hands didn't start to shake until he was finished. It hadn't been the overwhelming sense of relief that he'd gotten Bucky back; He'd dealt with that while they were still kneeling in the snow and his body was working on pushing that second bullet out of itself. It was the way Bucky's shoulders had slumped that did it. The way his jaw had softened and relaxed. The damn they'd both maintained was cracking for Steve and it was because of how Bucky's eyes were half open and focused up at Steve while they both sat in silence and Steve sewed Bucky's forehead back together in a ratty tent in some God forsaken part of Europe.
“Buck,” It sounded like Steve had pulled Bucky's name from somewhere deep. Like he'd crawled through fire and Hell to pull that name out of his lungs, and now that he'd done it he was burnt and scarred and he was giving it to Bucky with shaking hands. Steve nearly shattered on that name.
Steve had his hands on Bucky's shoulders and was leaning in to kiss him when Bucky's hand shot up and covered Steve's mouth with his fingertips. “Steve. Steve." It was a plea and an apology. Longing, devastation, and a promise all rolled and wrapped up together. It was a truth they'd never needed to have confirmed to know. This was something etched in each other's bones, but now it hung in the air between them and Steve had to shut his eyes for a moment against how much it hurt.
When Steve opened his eyes again, Bucky looked gutted. His fingers were still and steady over Steve's lips, but the misery that had replaced the relaxed look from earlier had Steve leaning in again. He didn't stop till their foreheads were pressed together and Bucky's lips were pressed to the backs of his own fingers.
Steve kissed the pads of Bucky's fingers with his eyes open while Bucky closed his eyes and kissed the backs of his own fingers, and neither of them had dry eyes when they pulled away.
Steve kept a grip on one of Bucky's shoulders and Bucky latched on to Steve's forearm as they both tried to collect themselves while anchoring the other. They kept their eyes on each other until Bucky pressed the fingertips that Steve had kissed to his mouth, and shut his eyes with a choked off sob. They'd said everything and nothing all at once. It would have to be enough.
Once Bucky had his breathing back in order, Steve gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “So next time you tell me I'm worrying over nothing and you end up needing stitching, I'll get Gabe to do it for you. He'll probably stitch his initials into you and maybe then you'll listen to me, you jerk.”
Bucky let out a laugh and finally dropped his hand from his mouth and looked up at Steve again. “Yeah, you're saying that like I haven't noticed your newly acquired bullet holes, punk. We're gonna have words about that, just so's you know. Right after I eat something and sleep for a day. Lots of words, Rogers.”
It was had been close, but they hadn't broken. They had packed everything back inside. No one would see.
Not even after Bucky Barnes falls from a train a week later.