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They’d fought over the aux cord for long enough that Steve insisted on only listening to the radio. That had started to cause some arguments until he threatened to switch to talk radio for the remaining... however many hours they had left. Hill had insisted they go by car to the destination, it was harder to track. No one would expect four avengers in a crossover suv on the highway.
Eventually they’d all lapsed into silence. Steve was comfortably watching the road, Bucky staring absently out the window. Sam and Nat occupied themselves on their phones in the back. The next time Steve changed the station (like clockwork ever thirty minutes) it flipped to some commercial. As the ads faded out, rhe announcer said something about an oldies marathon. Slowly, the car was filled with the quiet sound of trumpets. Steve turned the dial up, albeit only slightly. But there was a heavy shift in the air. Nat looked up from her phone, glancing between the two men in the front seat. Steve turned it up just a little more.
“Yo what the hell are we listening to?” Sam looked up. Nat elbowed him sharply in the ribs before he could finish. “Yo!” He exclaimed to her. She widened her eyes at him and nodded towards the seats in front of them. “Look.” She said, barely a whisper.
Bucky had started to sway his head slightly, tapping his finger against his bent knee in time to the music. Steve was staring straight ahead, but the way his attention had shifted to Bucky was palpable. Nat and Sam sat motionless. Afraid to breathe, afraid to not breathe. Anything that would ruin the delicate moment they had shifted into. A crooning voice started singing.
Never thought that you would be
standing here so close to me
there's so much I feel that I should say
but words can wait until some other day
Bucky was humming. Almost imperceptibly. Humming along with the singer. The car felt almost electric with energy. Nat knew that Steve didn’t share much about their previous lives with Bucky. Not unless he asked. Then he would share as much as he could. But he wouldn’t push him. They all knew that Bucky didn’t always feel like he was really, well, Bucky. The man who knew Steve when they were both young. His memories had come back, mostly whole, and slowly. But he was different now, how could he not be? So Steve gave him as much space as he could to just be the Bucky that he was now. Steve loved both versions of Bucky. Everyone knew that. But Nat knew that sometimes it hurt Steve deep in his soul, to look into Bucky’s eyes, and remember the young, charming James Barnes he used to know. So now in this moment, the way Bucky seemed attuned to something from his past, subconsciously, was like a gift from the universe.
Kiss me once, then kiss me twice
Then kiss me once again
It's been a long, long time
Haven't felt like this, my dear
Since I can't remember when
It's been a long, long time
Now, Bucky was singing. His voice was soft, but clear and melodic. A good singer and dancer back in his day, Nat noted. Steve rested his head back against the headrest, forcing himself to breathe evenly. Nat watched him quietly. She wondered to herself, if Bucky had ever sung this song to him. Or if they had ever danced to it together. She knew, from a general knowledge of history, that Steve and Bucky had never been able to go out dancing as dates back in that time. She also knew from Steve’s own admissions (and Buckys teasing when the memories would strike) that he wasn’t much of a dancer. But surely, in the privacy of their homes, they must have had time to dance together.
You'll never know how many dreams
I've dreamed about you
Or just how empty they all seemed without you
So kiss me once, then kiss me twice
Then kiss me once again
It's been a long, long time
Bucky's voice was a little louder. He seemed to be lost in thought, not realizing he was singing even. That was almost better, Nat decided. It made it feel more like he was Steve’s Bucky again, not just acting out pieces of a memory because he felt he should. The song drifted back into the trumpets, the crooning ending. Bucky’s gaze remained out the window, but he quietly and slowly slipped a hand over to where Steve rested on the center console of the car and twined their fingers. Nat saw Steve dip his head down just as a tear slipped onto his cheek. She quietly shifted forward, wrapping an arm between the door and Steve’s seat, brushing the tear off his cheek and settling back into her seat, leaning lightly against Sam’s shoulder. Steve looked back at her through the rearview mirror and gave them both a shy smile.
The rest of the hours in the car flew by. They never changed the station.