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It had been a few days since Sam had officially taken on the mantle of Captain America. After everything had gone down with Karli, the Flag Smashers, and the GRC, he’d elected to step out of the limelight for a short while. Things had been intense to say the least, and Sam wanted to spend some time with his family.
His nephews had been more than excited, clamouring over his new suit and playfighting with the shield in the front yard. Sam always watched them with a smile, often sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee as he did so. He didn’t have the super-soldier serum – hence no advanced healing – and he was dealing with some residual aches and pains from everything that had gone down. Hence, the respite.
His nephews weren’t the only ones that were happy to have him around. Sarah was too, even if she didn’t often show it. Sam could tell; it was evident in the way she smiled as she handed him a cup of coffee, the way she helped dress his healing wounds, even in the way she bickered good-naturedly with him about the suit and the shield.
The community were similarly happy to have Sam back. They were proud of him, which he supposed was understandable. His impassioned – though impromptu – speech to the GRC had gone viral, with many people voicing avid support for their new Captain America. The locals had even had a banner made and had planned a cookout in Sam’s honour for the following day.
“I really hope the weather improves for tomorrow,” Sarah sighed, looking out of the window as she peeled a stack of potatoes. “Otherwise I’ll have made all this food for nothing.”
“Hey, it won’t be for nothing,” Sam grinned, chopping each peeled potato and adding it to a pot to be boiled. “Bucky’s coming over anyway, and you know what his appetite is like.”
“Tell me about it,” Sarah laughed softly, shaking her head. “Man nearly ate me out of house and home last time.”
“It’s that super-soldier serum. Steve was the same.” Sam smiled, setting the knife down for a second and wiping his hands on the front of his jeans. Sarah paused as well, laying the peeler down and leaning against the counter.
“You still miss him, huh?”
“Yeah, I do,” Sam said quietly, watching the rain fall heavily against the window. “I wonder what he would’ve thought of everything, y’know?”
“He’d be proud of you,” Sarah assured him, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. “He wanted you to have that shield. And now you have it. You’re going to do amazing things with it, Sam. I know you are.”
“Thanks, Sarah,” Sam’s smile, though small, was genuine as he stepped closer and slid an arm around Sarah’s waist. “I don’t know where I’d be without you, you know that?”
“Oh, stop it,” Sarah chuckled, shaking her head even as she gave Sam a hug. “You’d be doing just fine.”
“Now that’s a bold statement.” Sam raised an eyebrow, giving Sarah a squeeze before stepping back to the chopping board. They fell back into the same easy rhythm, the kitchen filled with the sound of rain and the movement of their utensils as they worked their way through the pile of potatoes.
Once the potatoes were done, Sam filled the pot with water and set it on the hob to boil. They would be mashed before too long, making up one of many sides for tomorrow’s cookout. Sarah moved onto preparing the cheese sauce for what would be a pan of macaroni, and tasked Sam with chopping more vegetables for an array of dips. They worked in companionable silence for a while, moving around one another with ease despite the years they’d been apart.
Their silence was shattered by a knock at the door. They looked at one another with matching frowns, clearly both thinking the same thing. The rain outside was nearing torrential, it was late evening, and the house wasn’t exactly on the main road. Who could possibly be outside?
Sam laid his hand on Sarah’s arm gently, motioning for her to stay put. He headed towards the door, ducking into the lounge to pick up the shield as he went. Another knock sounded, harder than the first, and Sam pulled the shield onto his forearm.
He undid the locks slowly, steeling himself as he opened the door carefully. He kept the shield hidden from view, tucked away as he peered around the edge of the doorframe.
He blinked.
“Steve?!”
There, on his sister’s porch, was none other than Steve Rogers. The man was drenched, water clinging to his beard and making his hair curl around his ears. He looked different from the last time Sam had seen him; older, somehow, and wearier.
“Hey, Sam,” Steve said softly, the corner of his mouth curling upwards into a smile. “Mind if I come in?”
Sam hadn’t seen Steve since he’d left to return the Infinity Stones.
His departure had been a private affair with only Bucky and Bruce in attendance. Sam hadn’t been too bothered; he’d been under the impression that Steve would be coming back, and they’d have lunch together like they had every day since the battle.
Bucky and Bruce had emerged together a short while later, noticeably sans Steve. Bucky’s eyes were red-rimmed, and he refused to talk to anyone – simply stalked across the grass and into the cabin, slamming the door behind him. Bruce, however, had approached Sam and Wanda, who were sitting together on the grass, and explained that Steve hadn’t come back.
Sam had been confused – and hurt, if he was honest – until he’d returned to his room and found the shield sitting on his bed. With it was a handwritten note explaining Steve’s departure; that he had decided to be selfish, to leave and live the life he’d always wanted, and he was passing the shield onto Sam.
Bucky had left the following day, hoisting a bag onto his shoulder and avoiding eye-contact as he explained that he had some things to do. Sam had tried to talk to him – about Steve, about the shield, about anything – but Bucky shut down every single time. It was understandable; his grief was palpable, his loss running deeper than that of a friend. So Sam let him go, but not without forcing Bucky to swap phone numbers with him. He sent a message most days, but Bucky didn’t reply. He never did.
The shield was heavy, its legacy even heavier, and Sam eventually buckled beneath its weight. Giving it up to the museum had been the only logical option, in his mind.
Sam stepped back, opening the door fully and motioning for Steve to step inside. Steve did so gratefully, his gaze flickering down to the shield nestled safely on Sam’s forearm.
“It suits you.” He murmured, nodding deferentially before bending to unlace his boots. Sam closed the door as Steve did so, muffling the rainfall on the porch.
“What are you doing here, man?” Sam asked, his voice overwhelmingly loud in the small space. He shook his head, setting the shield down against the wall by the door. “In fact, how are you here?”
“It’s a bit of a long story,” Steve said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. For all his stature, he had never looked so small and unsure – not in the time Sam had known him, anyway. “How much time have you got?”
“As much as you need,” Sam shook his head, gesturing to the lounge. “Come on, man. Sit down, I’ll get you some towels.”
Steve nodded, moving into the lounge and taking a seat on the edge of the couch. He planted his feet wide, clasping his hands and staring at the wooden plank floor. Sam watched him for a second longer before turning away and heading to the kitchen.
“Who is it?” Sarah asked, gripping her spoon tightly as she mixed up the pot of cheese sauce.
“It’s Steve.”
“Steve?!” Sarah’s mouth fell open, and she looked over Sam’s shoulder towards the lounge. “Steve as in Steve Rogers?”
“Yes, Steve as in Steve Rogers,” Sam sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter as he turned the kettle on. “I don’t – I don’t know what he’s doing here. Fuck, Sarah, I don’t even know how he’s here. I mean, he left. He left and it seemed like he was never coming back.”
“Is it definitely him?” Sarah asked, a frown creasing her brow.
“It’s him,” Sam nodded, folding his arms over his chest and looking over at the lounge. “I - I know it’s him.”
“Alright,” Sarah acquiesced. “He must be soaking. Go and get some towels, maybe some clothes too, and I’ll make coffee.”
Sam flashed her a small yet grateful smile, heading out of the kitchen towards the linen cupboard. He grabbed a few towels – they were fluffy and warm, thanks to their proximity to the boiler – before stopping by his bedroom for some clothes. He added his most comfortable sweats and a grey t-shirt to the pile, unsure if they would even fit Steve but figuring they were better than the wet clothes he had on. He stopped by his nephews’ den on his way back; thankfully, they were playing video games and hadn’t noticed that anything was afoot.
“Here,” Sarah said as he re-entered the kitchen. She had arranged a tray with two cups of steaming coffee, alongside a plate of homemade cookies. “Figured he’d be hungry. There’s leftovers from dinner if he wants something proper.”
“You’re the best.” Sam said quietly, pressing a kiss to Sarah’s temple as he collected the tray, towels tucked under his arm.
“Don’t forget it.” Sarah called after him, and Sam’s mouth curled into a smile as he walked into the lounge. Steve was still sitting where Sam had left him, only now his face was pressed into his palms.
“Steve?” Sam’s voice was soft as he set the tray down on the coffee table, not wanting to spook the other man.
“Hm?” Steve murmured as he looked up, his eyes bloodshot and bone-achingly tired. “Oh, hey. Thank you.” He said gratefully, taking the towels and clothes that Sam was offering.
“Coffee, if you want it. And cookies. My sister made them.” Sam explained, kneeling by the fireplace and busying himself with setting one up.
“Thank you.” Steve said again, using the towels to dry himself off the best he could. He changed quickly and methodically, folding his own wet clothes and setting them down on the floor beside the sofa. The shirt was a bit small and stretched tight across his chest, the sweatpants too short and stopping clear of his ankles. He looked a little better, though.
Sam settled into a comfortable chair adjacent to the couch. He lifted his own mug – one his nephews had made, decorated with a lopsided rendition of the shield – and blew on its contents gently before taking a sip.
They lapsed into silence – not uncomfortable, per se, but not exactly the easy, languid silences they’d enjoyed years prior. The fire crackled and popped gently, flames licking higher into the air with every passing second. Steve watched it for a few long moments, its orange glow reflected in his eyes.
“I suppose I should explain.” He said eventually, running a hand through his hair. He leaned forward and closed his hands around his own mug of coffee, sitting back with it nestled between his palms.
“Take your time, man,” Sam said, lifting one shoulder slightly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Steve’s mouth ticked upwards into the ghost of a smile, but only for a brief moment. He gave a small sigh, weighted with all of the words that lingered behind his teeth. “I just – before I start, can I ask you a question?”
Sam nodded in response, tilting his head to the side a little. Steve was quiet for a few seconds, his expression contemplative, before he looked up and met Sam’s gaze.
“Bucky – I, uh,” Steve swallowed, chewing on his lower lip. “How is he?”
“He’s doing good,” Sam replied, noting the way Steve visibly relaxed at the admission. “Really good, actually. A lot better than he was after you left.”
“Right,” Steve nodded, pressing both palms against his mug again as though leeching every bit of warmth from it. “Right, that’s good. And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“How are – how are you doing?”
“I’m alright, Steve. Things were rough for a while, but we got through it. We’re still getting through it, in all honesty.”
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Steve breathed, his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he looked up. They glistened in the low firelight. “I’m really fucking sorry. I – I thought that I had to go back, so that I could start living. I didn’t realise that I had already had a life until I’d left it behind.”
“I get it,” Sam shrugged, shaking his head slightly. “I do. And I’m sorry if we ever made you feel like you couldn’t stay. Like going back was your only option.”
“That wasn’t on you guys,” Steve said fiercely. “That was on me. I just – after Tony, and Nat, I didn’t know what to do. I knew I didn’t want to be Cap anymore, but I didn’t know how to go about doing that. I – I’d always had this idea that I could’ve had a life with Peggy, if things had gone differently. When I was presented with the opportunity to have just that, I guess I latched onto it. I was in love with the idea of her, and of having a life with her. And at first, I thought it was everything I wanted…” Steve paused, rolling his mug between his hands before he took a bolstering sip. “But after a while, I realised that it wasn’t what I wanted. I was living a lie. I had undermined everything Peggy had told me before she died.”
“She told you she’d lived her life, and she wanted you to live yours.” Sam said quietly, remembering what Steve had told him all those years ago. Steve nodded, and Sam noticed that his dark lashes were wet against his cheeks.
“She did,” Steve shook his head self-deprecatingly. “And I couldn’t just take all that away from her. Not only that, but I left you guys behind. You, Bruce, Wanda, Bucky-” Steve faltered, his voice cracking a little as he trailed off. “I regret it. I regret leaving in the first place. But I don’t regret giving you that shield. That was the best decision I’ve ever made.”
“You don’t have to be Cap anymore,” Sam said quietly, leaning forward and placing a hand on Steve’s knee. “You can just be Steve Rogers. And you can be him here, with us.”
Steve crumbled then, placing his mug on the floor and pressing his palms to his face. He curled in on himself, shoulders shaking as he cried. Sam’s heart broke for him, and he shifted to sit on the couch beside his friend. Despite everything that had happened, despite all of the conflicting emotions he’d felt towards Steve in the last six months, Sam still loved him like a brother.
“Hey Steve, it’s okay,” Sam murmured, sliding his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Everything is okay. You’re here now. You realised what you did, and you tried to make it right.”
Steve nodded, pressing his face against Sam’s chest. “Am I – am I just being selfish again, thinking everyone would want me back?” His voice was small and gut-wrenchingly frail, thick and wet with emotion. Sam’s grip tightened, and he squeezed Steve’s shoulder carefully.
“Maybe it is selfish, but you deserve to be selfish. You lived and breathed for this country for so long. It’s time you start living and breathing for yourself, you know? But you didn’t have to go back in time to do that, Steve,” Sam’s voice was gentle, yet firm. “How could you ever think we wouldn’t want you here?”
“I left you. All of you. I just gave you the shield and didn’t even say goodbye. I didn’t even stop to think about whether you’d want it,” Steve shook his head, his beard scratching against Sam’s shirt. “Being back there, without you all… What I was doing wasn’t living. I was trying to cope, trying to survive in the way that I thought I should. But really, I was drowning, and I just wanted to come home. I’m sorry, Sam. I really am.”
“Hey, man. I know you are. For what it’s worth, I forgive you,” Sam said softly, laying his other hand on Steve’s knee. “Did Peggy forgive you?”
“I explained everything to her. There was no way I’d be able to keep it from her, not when she’d literally listened to me put the plane into the ocean. She was happy, I think, at first. But then we were just miserable. The more I told her about the future, the more I think she resented me for going back in the first place.”
“Understandable. She was a spitfire.”
“She was,” Steve chuckled softly. “She really was. But I didn’t love her. I didn’t really know her. I just loved the idea of her, I think. It took going back there to make me realise that, and to make me realise who I’d really loved all along…who I really love.”
“Bucky?” Sam asked carefully, sitting back a little as Steve shifted and pulled himself upright.
“Yeah,” Steve breathed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, Bucky. I – I don’t know how I missed it, to be honest.”
“Nor me, man. It was pretty obvious,” Sam nudged Steve’s shoulder gently, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “At least you’ve realised it now. And you’re back. You’ve been given, what, a fifth chance? Don’t fuck it up this time, Steve.”
“Is there even anything left for me to fuck up?” Steve asked, turning his head to look up at Sam. “I – I don’t even know if he’s going to be happy to see me.”
“I think he might surprise you,” Sam hummed. “Either way though, he’ll come round. He always does, when it comes to you.”
“How is he, Sam? Really.”
“He’s doing better, Steve. He really is. I think things were tough for him at first, when you left. He kind of pulled away from all of us. I didn’t hear from him for a while, but I did try to keep in touch. But then things brought us back together, and we were able to talk. I know he said he knew what you were planning, but I don’t think that made it any easier on him.” Sam explained, laying a hand on Steve’s back.
“He seemed like he wanted me to go,” Steve whispered, his voice barely audible above the crackling fire. “Like he was happy for me.”
“He probably was,” Sam lifted one shoulder. “If he thought leaving was what you really wanted, he would’ve made himself happy for you. Whether he actually was or not.”
“I want to see him,” Steve said softly, rubbing his palms over his thighs. “I really, really want to. But at the same time, I’m scared. What if – what if he doesn’t-”
“He does,” Sam interrupted gently, sliding his hand upwards a little and squeezing the nape of Steve’s neck. “Believe me, he does.”
Steve sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as he sat up again, spine straightening as he did so. He shook his head, visibly collecting himself, before he turned to face Sam.
“Tell me about you, Sam. Tell me about what’s been going on. What have I missed?”
“How much time have you got?” Sam joked, echoing Steve’s own words from earlier as his lips curled into a lazy grin. Steve mirrored the expression, pretending to check his non-existent watch.
“I’ve got all night.” He replied, reaching for his mug and a cookie before settling in to listen to Sam regale him the tales of the last few months.
They passed a few hours that way, talking until the fire had been reduced to a pile of smouldering ash. The rain had let up during the course of their conversation, no longer falling against the window in relentless droves. Sam had fetched Steve a plate of leftovers halfway through, along with fresh coffee for both of them.
He had done his best to explain everything to Steve – the Flag Smashers, Karli Morgenthau, Zemo, John Walker, Isaiah Bradley, Sharon Carter – and Steve had listened with signature intensity. When he heard about Walker being inaugurated as Cap, his fingers clenched so tightly around his mug that Sam feared it would shatter.
“I gave you the shield for a reason, Sam,” Steve said gently. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I still think that. But I didn’t realise what it would be like for you, and I’m sorry. I should’ve at least spoken to you about it.”
Sam waved a hand through the air. “It’s okay, man. It wasn’t, for a while. But it is now. As long as you understand.” Steve nodded, looking deeply contemplative as he twisted his fingers in his lap.
There was a quiet knock against the doorframe, and Sam looked up to find Sarah leaning against it. Steve stood up instantly, running a hand over his hair.
“Hi, Sarah. I’m sorry for showing up like this, I didn’t even say hello, oh god-”
“Steve, it’s fine,” Sarah’s responding laughter was light. “It’s good to see you. I just wanted to say that you’re more than welcome to stay, for as long as you need to. Sam will get you blankets, and the couch is all yours.”
“Thank you,” Steve said sincerely. “That – I –” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “I really appreciate it.”
Sarah smiled in response, turning her attention to Sam. “I’ve finished making everything for tomorrow, there’s just a few bits I need to put together in the morning. Is Bucky coming here first, or is he meeting us at the dock?”
“Meeting us at the dock, I’m sure,” Sam responded, not missing the way Steve stiffened at the mention of Bucky. “Eleven o’clock, yeah?”
“Eleven,” Sarah nodded. “The kids and I are going to head down a little earlier, help Martha get things set up,” She explained, stifling a yawn behind her hand. “Well, I’m going to bed. I’ll see you two in the morning.”
Sarah gave a little wave before disappearing from view, humming softly as she headed upstairs. Sam turned to Steve, who was still standing to attention and was seemingly lost in thought.
“You okay, man?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet and collecting their discarded plates and cups.
“Hm? Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just…what’s tomorrow?” Steve asked, stepping forward to take the mugs from Sam.
“Some of the locals have organised a cookout down at the dock,” Sam explained, leading the way through to the kitchen. The surfaces had been cleared and wiped down, and the place was immaculate – no evidence of Sarah’s earlier cooking exploits remained besides the numerous dishes stacked in the fridge. “Bucky’s invited. They love him, round here.”
“They know him?” Steve asked, gently elbowing Sam out of the way and making quick work of washing the dishes, stacking them on the draining board to dry.
“Oh, yeah. He’s down here quite a lot. He was a great help when we were fixing up Dad’s boat.”
Steve’s lips ticked upwards. “Yeah, he was always great at that kind of thing. He worked down at the docks, actually, before he enlisted. Took extra shifts on the weekends so that we could make ends meet,” Steve shook his head fondly, shaking off the excess water clinging to his hands. “He enjoyed it, though. Or so he said.”
“You do realise you’re going to see him tomorrow, right?” Sam asked, folding his arms across his chest.
Steve blinked.
“I – wait – what?”
Sam rolled his eyes, letting out a weary breath. “You didn’t think we would just abandon you here, did you? You can come to the cookout with us. I’m sure everyone would love to see you,” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Bucky, too.”
Steve was quiet for a few moments, staring down at his hands. He chewed on his bottom lip, clearly turning the prospect over and over in his head. Sam clapped him on the shoulder gently, leaving Steve to his contemplations for a moment as he went to fetch a blanket and some pillows for the couch.
Steve was still in the same place when he returned, staring out of the window now at the water that lay beyond the edge of the garden. He turned at the sound of Sam’s footsteps, pressing his back against the edge of the sink.
“I want to see him,” Steve said, echoing his earlier words with more conviction this time. “I’ll come to the cookout. As long as you’re sure I’m not intruding-”
Sam snorted, shaking his head. “Man, we passed the intruding stage a looooong time ago. Probably when you and Natasha showed up at my door, begging me for help.”
“We were not begging,” Steve retorted indignantly, following Sam back through to the lounge. “Liar.”
Sam laughed – a bright, healthy sound – and dropped the blanket and pillows on the couch. “Whatever you say,” He grinned, turning around to find Steve watching him with a soft expression. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you, Sam. For everything.” Steve said gently, stepping close and sliding his arms around Sam in a tight hug.
“You’re welcome. It’s good to have you back, Steve. Really good.”
Steve woke with the sun, weak golden light falling through a gap in the curtains and spilling onto the couch. The blanket had fallen off the couch during the night, and Steve picked it up as he stood. He folded it carefully, laying it on top of the pillows that Sam had given him.
He hadn’t slept all that well. It had nothing to do with his sleeping conditions and everything to do with the fact that he was fucking terrified about seeing Bucky. He’d only realised recently how hideously in love he was, and he wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to handle himself when they reunited.
His body thrummed with nervous energy, and he desperately needed to do something to let it out. He headed for the front door, still dressed in his borrowed t-shirt and sweats, and grabbed the first pair of trainers that he found. He figured Sam wouldn’t mind him borrowing them. They were grey with red laces and soles – the same colours as Sam’s old Falcon getup – and Steve smiled as he laced them up.
Steve stepped outside, closing the door behind him carefully. The ground was damp with the remnants of the night’s rainfall, but the air was clear and fresh. The sun was peeking through the clouds, kissing Steve’s bare skin as he headed across the yard towards the forest that surrounded the house. He figured he could run the beaten path a few times before the house began to stir. With any luck, the exertion would drain some of the nerves buzzing beneath his skin.
And so Steve ran, focusing on nothing beyond the sound of his feet against the forest floor. He wasn’t sure how many laps he did, but by the time he finished the sun was creeping higher in the sky and casting a warm glow across the yard. He felt a little better as he headed back to the house, but his gut still clenched every time he thought of Bucky.
When he was back inside, he toed off his borrowed trainers and padded through to the kitchen on socked feet. He wanted to make breakfast for everyone, but he was a notoriously terrible cook. He didn’t think Sarah would appreciate him burning anything, so he decided just to make coffee instead. Coffee was easy, he could handle coffee.
He was in the middle of pouring a cup when he heard a commotion from behind him. He turned to find two kids – presumably Sarah’s – jostling one another as they stared at him.
“You’re Captain America.” The smaller of the two said, to which the taller one scowled and shoved his shoulder.
“No, he’s not. Uncle Sam is. He used to be.”
“Your brother’s right,” Steve smiled, gesturing towards the taller boy with his mug. “I used to be Captain America. Now I’m just Steve.”
“I’m AJ,” The smaller boy supplied helpfully, before pointing to his brother. “That’s Cass.”
“Hi,” Steve said softly. “It’s nice to meet you both.”
“You too, I guess.” Cass shrugged, crossing the kitchen and using a stool to climb up to the counter. He opened one of the high cabinets, struggling to grab a brightly coloured box of cereal. His fingers brushed it, and he grunted as he tried to pull it down.
“Hey, let me help.” Steve lunged carefully for the box as it toppled, catching it and bringing it down to Cass’s level.
“Thank you.” Cass said politely, heading back to the table. AJ had, in the meantime, fetched two bowls and two spoons, and was fumbling around in the fridge for milk while Cass poured the cereal. Steve watched them with a small smile as they settled into their own routine, not even sparing him another glance. He figured that Sarah must’ve told them about him, hence their nonchalance.
The boys made conversation with one another while they ate their cereal, and Steve left them to it. He headed back through to the lounge, locating his clothes from the night before and assessing them critically. His jeans didn’t look too bad, but his shirt – a checked button down – was still damp and wrinkled. He’d have to borrow something from Sam to wear beneath his leather jacket.
“Morning, Steve,” Came a voice from the doorway, and Steve turned to find Sam standing in it with a mug in his hand. He wasn’t properly dressed yet, wearing a threadbare t-shirt with Ant-Man printed on the front and a pair of sweat shorts. “I see you’ve already been out on a run, making the rest of us look lazy.”
“Had to do something to clear my head a bit,” Steve explained, standing up with his jeans in his hand. “I don’t suppose you have a shirt I could borrow, please? Mine looks a bit worse for wear.”
“Sure. Come with me,” Sam gestured over his shoulder, and Steve followed him with his mug in one hand, jeans in the other. “I hope you’re planning on taking a shower, Steve. You stink.” Sam grinned, elbowing Steve good-naturedly.
“Hey, fuck you. At least I’ve already been outside this morning.” Steve replied good-naturedly, smiling all the while. Sam laughed in response, stopping by the linen cupboard and grabbing some fresh towels.
“Alright, touché. Here, get in there and take a shower, I’ll leave clothes out for you.” Sam said, taking Steve’s jeans from him and handing him the stack of towels. He headed through to his own room, while Steve ducked into the bathroom. He switched the shower on, making sure the temperature dial was turned up, and leaned against the sink while he waited for the water to heat. Once he was satisfied with the temperature, hair already damp with the rising steam, he stripped off quickly and stepped underneath the spray.
His thoughts turned to the day ahead as he rubbed shampoo into his hair. He’d let it grow out a little, along with his facial hair, while he’d been with Peggy. While the style wasn’t exactly fitting for the time period, it was easier for him to go unrecognised with some scruff on his face and his hair curling around his ears.
Steve couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky would look any different. The last time they’d seen one another, Bucky’s hair had been touching his shoulders, and he’d had a decent beard. Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about whether Bucky had cut his hair in the last six months.
There were a lot of things about Bucky that Steve was curious about. How he was really doing; what he’d thought of John Walker; how he felt about Zemo; whether he’d be happy to see Steve.
The latter was at the forefront of Steve’s mind, selfish as that made him feel.
Steve was, quite frankly, terrified to ruin the progress that Bucky had reportedly made in his absence. He wasn’t so naïve as to think that Bucky’s wellbeing revolved around him, but he was concerned that his presence could cause a shift somewhere. Two urges were at war within Steve: the urge to leave again in order to protect Bucky, versus the urge to fall to his knees and beg for Bucky’s forgiveness.
Steve had always known that Bucky was important to him. He wouldn’t have done half of the things he had in the last however many years if he wasn’t. Steve’s only regret was that he’d had to travel back in time to realise just how important Bucky was – how important he had been, all along.
Peggy had been the safe option for Steve – that was why he went back to her. She was the expectation, the ideal. She was everything Steve thought he wanted; everything he’d been told he should want. It wasn’t until he had her that he realised that she wasn’t what he wanted, nor what he needed. That was Bucky – had been Bucky since they’d met on the schoolyard with snotty noses and scraped knees.
Steve wanted Bucky so badly that he burned with it. He wanted everything with Bucky; he wanted to be his heart, his home, his true north. He wanted to claw his own chest open and draw out his very soul, and he wanted to hand it and everything he was over to Bucky. He wanted to touch, and worship, and love the very man who had touched, and worshipped, and loved him since their beginning.
He just didn’t know if Bucky felt the same.
Steve shook himself out of his reverie, washing his body perfunctorily before shutting the water off. There was a pile of clothes lying in the middle of the floor; Sam must’ve thrown them into the bathroom while Steve was otherwise preoccupied, wading through his emotions. There was a pair of black boxers with the tags still on, a short-sleeved navy button down, his own dark jeans, and a pair of socks. Steve dried off methodically before dressing and standing in front of the mirror toying with his hair for far too long.
“You okay?” Sam called from outside the bathroom, knocking gently on the door.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Steve replied, huffing in frustration as he ran his hands through his hair again. “You can, uh, come in if you want.”
The door swung open slowly, and Sam stepped inside. He raised an eyebrow as he swept a critical eye over Steve, lingering on the taut pull of his shirt.
“Man, all that training and you’re still bigger than me.” Sam grumbled in mock-self-deprecation, aiming a punch at Steve’s bicep.
“Super-soldier serum,” Steve said absently, leaning closer to the mirror and pushing his hair back from his face. After a moment he seemed to register Sam’s words, and whipped around to face his friend. “Hey, don’t be so down on yourself. You look great, Sam, seriously.”
“Oh, it’s cool,” Sam waved a hand through the air. “I don’t care about that shit, you know that. You, on the other hand, seem to care a whole lot about how your hair looks today. What’s that about?”
Steve rolled his eyes, pointedly ignoring Sam’s gaze. “You know why.” He muttered, turning back to the mirror and eyeing himself critically. Sam hovered at his shoulder; his expression was overwhelmingly fond.
“He won’t care how your hair looks, Steve. You know he also doesn’t give a fuck about all that superficial stuff. He’ll be happy to see you no matter what.”
Steve sighed, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I know that, I do,” He shook his head and folded his arms over his chest, shifting to lean against the sink and face Sam. “I just – I’m so nervous. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.” He admitted, his voice quiet and trailing off into silence.
“You’ve got it bad, man,” Sam grinned, tapping Steve on the shoulder lightly. “Everything is going to be okay, Steve. You might have to give him some time to adjust to you being back, but it’ll be worth it.”
“He’s always worth it,” Steve said softly. “He’s always been worth it. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to realise that.”
“It didn’t,” Sam shrugged. “Not really. You thought he was worth it when you rescued him from that HYDRA facility back in the forties, and you thought he was worth it on the helicarrier. You also thought he was worth it in Siberia. You dropped that shield for him twice, Steve. You thought he was worth it when nobody else did, me included,” Sam paused for a moment, watching a barrage of emotions flicker across Steve’s face. “And you thought he was worth coming back for.”
Steve didn’t respond for a while, chewing on his bottom lip as he processed Sam’s words. Sam thought it best to leave him to it and squeezed Steve’s shoulder gently before backing out of the bathroom. “Breakfast is on the table. Just come down when you’re ready. Sarah and the kids will be heading out soon.”
Steve looked up as Sam began to shut the door quietly, stepping forward and reaching out a hand. “Hey, uh, Sam?” Sam’s head popped around the edge of the door, one eyebrow raised in questioning. “Thank you.”
Sam winked in response before he disappeared from view, the door clicking shut behind him. Steve turned around, placing his hands on either side of the sink and leaning in close to the mirror. He eyed himself, his brow furrowing a little as he did so. “Do not fuck this up for us,” He said firmly. “I mean it. This is our last chance.”
All of the nervous energy that Steve had run off earlier returned tenfold as he and Sam headed down to the dock. He was thankful that he was carrying an icebox on his shoulder, otherwise his hands would’ve been trembling.
They arrived at eleven on the dot, and the cookout was already in full swing. It seemed as though most of the locals had had the same idea as Sarah and had arrived early to help set up. There were a few big barbeques arranged in a row, alongside long tables piled high with food. Beyond that lay smaller tables for sitting at, set with a mishmash of chairs in all different shapes and sizes.
Steve headed for the drinks table, setting the icebox down beside it and opening the lid. He grabbed two of the cans, not bothering to check the labels, and handed one off to Sam before opening one for himself.
“Didn’t know you were a-” Sam paused, wiping away the condensation to check the label. “Lotus Blossom kinda guy.”
“Sam, I literally have no fucking clue what I’m drinking right now,” Steve admitted. “I just needed something to do with my hands.”
“I get it,” Sam patted Steve on the back gently, taking a sip from his own can. “Hey, it’s not even that bad.”
“I couldn’t even tell you what it tastes like.” Steve replied, even as he took a long sip. His attention was clearly elsewhere; he was scanning the assembled crowd, eyes flickering back and forth. He was vaguely aware of Sam moving away from his side, no doubt drawn into a conversation with someone. Steve allowed it – Sam was probably sick of his pining anyway.
Steve stood in the same spot for another ten minutes or so, idly sipping at his can for something to do. A few people had come by to say hello, but most of them didn’t have a clue who he was beyond being Sam’s friend. He found he liked it that way, though. Eventually, Sarah came by and placed a hand on Steve’s forearm. He jolted, turning to look at her with wide eyes. “Steve,” She said gently, a small smile playing on her lips. “Why don’t you come and get something to eat? You know what they say, a watched pot never boils.”
Steve sighed, some of the tension leaving his limbs as he did so. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Food sounds good.” Sarah’s smile widened and she led Steve over to the buffet, walking him through all of the options and helping him pile his plate high. She did the same, making a plate for herself and one for Sam, who was currently taking pictures with people. Cass and AJ had already raided the buffet, and were sitting at a table by themselves as they tucked in.
Before too long, Steve found himself crammed at a small table with Sam – who had managed to escape pictures, for the time being – Sarah, and the kids. His mouth was watering at the selection on his plate: fluffy mashed potatoes sat alongside perfectly cooked shrimp that had been marinated in a sticky garlic and chilli sauce, with a pile of deliciously charred veggies on the side. He had his eye on a few other dishes, too: creamy macaroni cheese; fresh bread rolls that were crusty on the outside and soft on the inside; juicy skin-on chicken with a honey barbeque marinade; fresh, pink salmon with a soy glaze; and a crunchy rainbow slaw that was just calling his name. That was the thing about going back in time – the food had been so different from what he’d become accustomed to, and what he was being treated to right now.
Steve let himself fall into easy conversation with Sarah, while Cass and AJ hassled Sam about god only knew what. After he’d finished his first plate, he stood up to go and get another, along with fresh cans of lemonade for the kids. He held the cans in one hand, balancing his plate on top and piling it high with all of the options he’d been eyeing before. He was studying his plate carefully, trying to calculate where to put what for maximum efficiency, when an achingly familiar voice sounded from behind him.
“Hey! Where’s my favourite honorary nephews? Uncle Bucky brought cake!”
He turned immediately, discarding his half-filled plate onto the table. Bucky was right there, weaving his way through the crowd with a cake balanced in his right hand. Cass and AJ ran up to him, grinning as they clamoured for the cake and laughing as Bucky spun around and held it high above their heads, pretending to fight them for it.
Steve, on the other hand, felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Bucky – well, Bucky looked beautiful.
His hair was shorter than it had been the last time Steve had seen him, as was his beard. His Wakandan hand was proudly on display as he removed his sunglasses, and the smooth black and glistening gold reminded Steve of the finest Kintsugi. He looked happy – extremely, dizzyingly, spellbindingly happy. Moreover, he looked comfortable in himself in a way that Steve hadn’t seen him since before the war. It was – no, he was truly the most breath-taking sight. Steve couldn’t take his eyes off him.
Bucky swept over to the table where Steve had been sitting, still holding the cake precariously with his flesh hand as he leaned down to give Sarah a hug. Sam’s gaze flickered over to Steve momentarily, and Bucky followed his line of sight as he straightened up.
His eyes met Steve’s, and he froze. Time seemed to slow to an agonising halt.
That was – until Bucky’s limbs went lax, and the cake fell to the floor.
“Noooooo!” Cass and AJ cried in unison, rushing over to where the cake had fallen. Luckily, the plastic lid hadn’t come off, so the cake was smushed up inside it. They scraped it up off the ground, taking it over to the table to perform surgery on it and stick the layers back together at least semi-presentably.
Bucky, on the other hand, hadn’t moved.
Nor had Steve.
They stood in place, on opposite sides of the cookout, staring at one another. Everyone else – bar Sam – was going about their business: talking, laughing, eating, all oblivious to the mutual crises occurring just feet away.
Sam stood then, approaching Bucky carefully and laying a hand on his shoulder. Bucky jolted, breaking eye contact with Steve and turning to face Sam. They had a short, hurried conversation before Bucky turned and walked away, his gaze flickering over to Steve as he did so. Steve watched him go, hands curling into fists at his sides. He pressed his nails into his palms, willing his heart to stop jackhammering in his chest.
“Hey,” Sam said gently, appearing at Steve’s side. “He – he wants to talk to you. But you’ve gotta understand how he’s feeling, Steve. He’s shocked, okay. This is going to be a lot for him to process.”
Steve blinked, turning his dark-lashed gaze onto Sam. “He wants to talk…to me?”
“Yes, you idiot, to you,” Sam rolled his eyes, though the gesture was not unkind. “I said you could use the boat. It’s the last one on the right,” Sam pointed down the dock, towards a boat with the names Paul & Darlene painted proudly on the front. “Just be careful, Steve. Not that I think you won’t be, but…” Sam trailed off, and Steve gave a small nod.
“I get it,” Steve’s voice was soft, his breath shuddering in his chest. “Fuck, I’m so nervous.”
“Go and get him, man.” Sam smiled, patting Steve on the back and gesturing towards the boat. Steve took another breath, wincing at the way it rattled in his throat, before heading up the dock.
Many impulses were warring inside Steve as he walked up the dock, feeling as though he was walking the fucking plank. Part of him wanted to run, part of him wanted to throw himself at Bucky’s feet, part of him wanted to kiss him senseless. He wasn’t entirely sure that any of those were the right option. He paused at the back of the boat, taking a deep breath before stepping onto the edge.
Bucky was sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the boat, facing out towards the lake. He turned at the sound of Steve’s foot against the wood, and his metal fist whirred softly as it clenched into a shaking fist.
“Hi, Buck.” Steve said softly, his voice barely audible above the waves lapping gently against the sides of the boat.
“St-” Bucky paused as his breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed the aborted attempt. “Steve.” They fell into an anguished silence as Bucky stood up and Steve stepped down into the boat. It rocked slightly under his weight, but neither of them seemed to notice.
After an indeterminable amount of time spent staring at one another, Bucky finally spoke. “I, uh. I wish I’d prepared something to say but, well, I didn’t expect to ever see you again. So…” He trailed off, absently running his metal hand through his hair. The golden veins running through the dark vibranium caught and sparkled in the sunlight, throwing arcing beams over Bucky’s skin.
Steve was, quite honestly, fucking enraptured.
He jolted when he realised that Bucky was clearly waiting for him to speak. He chewed on his bottom lip, wondering what exactly to say first, before blurting out the sentiment that was pressing insistently at the front of his mind:
“I’m sorry.”
Bucky blinked.
“You’re sorry?” He echoed, a frown gracing his features. “What are you – what are you sorry for?”
“For leaving?”
“I don’t-” Bucky huffed out a humourless laugh. “You don’t have to apologise for leaving, Steve. I was happy for you,” He paused, seemingly mulling over his own words. “Well, no, actually. I wasn’t happy for you, but you seemed like you wanted to go. Who would I be to stop you from doing that? Nobody can ever stop you from doing something you want to do, Steve.”
“You can,” Steve said. “You – you could’ve. You’re the reason I came back.”
Bucky laughed again – similarly humourless, and a touch deprecating – before sitting down on the bench and looking out across the rippling lake. “Why did you come back?” He asked after a moment, turning his head to look up at Steve. “Why now?”
Steve sighed, leaning back against the edge of the boat. “I left in the first place because I thought I wanted a life with Peggy. She was – she was the expectation, you know? She was everything I thought I wanted, the life I always thought I should’ve had. The life I probably would’ve had, if I hadn’t crashed the plane,” He explained, twisting his fingers together as he spoke. “But being back there, it made me realise that that life wasn’t the one I wanted after all. She wasn’t the person I wanted. And I know it was selfish of me, and extremely privileged. Believe me, I regret going back at all. I just – it took me going back to realise that everything I ever wanted was right in front of me the whole time.”
Bucky was watching Steve intently, eyes dark-lashed and liquid. “So, you’re saying…”
“I’m saying that it’s you, Buck,” Steve’s voice was trembling, but his eyes never once left Bucky. “You’re everything I ever wanted. I – I think it’s always been you.”
Bucky crumbled at those words, his gaze falling away from Steve’s. He pressed his metal knuckles to his mouth, turning to face the water once again. His shoulders were shaking beneath his coat, curling forward in a display of vulnerability.
Steve approached him carefully, sliding onto the bench and laying a gentle hand on Bucky’s knee. “Buck?” He said quietly. “I – I’m sorry if all this is too much. I don’t want you to feel pressured to respond. It’s not your fault if you don’t feel the same way.”
Bucky laughed at that – a short, sharp bark of laughter that escaped from behind his hand. “Are you fucking joking? I’ve been in love with you since 1932.”
And then Bucky kissed him.
Steve froze, unable to think with the inexplicable press of Bucky’s lips against his own. Bucky must’ve noticed his lack of reciprocation, because he was pulling away all too soon.
“Don’t tell me you meant everything in a friend kind of way-” He began, but was cut off as Steve curled shaking fingers around his lapels and pulled him into another kiss.
It was, undoubtedly, the best kiss of Steve’s life.
Scratch that – of all his lives.
He made a small sound in the back of his throat as Bucky pressed his metal hand to the edge of his jaw, holding him in place as he licked into Steve’s mouth. Steve was helpless to do anything but cling to Bucky, pressing as close as he possibly could and tilting his head to try and find a better angle.
Bucky pulled away after a few moments, teeth catching gently on Steve’s lower lip as he did so. He didn’t move far, pressing his forehead against Steve’s so that they could share one another’s breath. Steve let his eyelids flutter closed, leaning into Bucky’s metal hand. It was still pressed to his jaw, fingertips grazing the high curve of his cheekbone.
“I love you,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s mouth. “I love you, and I’m sorry that I had to leave you to realise it.”
Bucky shook his head, sliding his palm gently down the line of Steve’s throat. “This – this is not how I imagined my day going when I woke up this morning,” He chuckled, his voice a little rough. “But I’m not complaining. I love you too, by the way. Punk.”
“Jerk.” Steve responded immediately, choking back a sob at the aching familiarity.
“This doesn’t mean we aren’t going to have a conversation about what happened, Stevie,” Bucky said gently, pressing his thumb lightly against Steve’s pulse point. “There’s still a lot of gaps and a lot of things I don’t fully understand. I – I really thought that was it. That I’d never see you again.”
“I don’t think I’d realised that myself until it was too late,” Steve said, uncurling his fingers from Bucky’s lapels and letting them rest on his chest instead. “That I would never see you again, I mean. Things were fine at first, y’know? I was living with Peggy, sleeping on her couch. And it was fine. But then I started looking for you everywhere. I never lived far through the forties, so a lot of the stuff back then was new to me since it’s been left so far behind now,” Steve sighed softly, looking down at where his knees were pressed against Bucky’s own. “And I just wanted to show you everything and talk to you about everything. I kept reaching for my phone to call you or send you a picture before I remembered that none of those things were an option anymore.”
“You became a man out of time again,” Bucky said softly. Steve made a questioning sound, gaze flickering back upwards to meet Bucky’s. “That’s what everyone called you when you first woke up, right? But then you acclimatised, and you got used to the modern day. It – it became your home. Going back meant you were displaced again.” He explained, sliding his palm around to Steve’s nape and threading his fingers through the soft strands of hair there.
“I guess you’re right,” Steve hummed. “I just felt like I didn’t belong there, and not in the way I did when I woke up in 2011. I think subconsciously I knew that I’d left so much behind here that I’d never be truly comfortable. Even with Peggy there.”
“What was it like, seeing her again?”
“I won’t lie, it was nice to see her. Especially after watching her deteriorate in the years before she died. It was hard to explain everything to her, but when I told her it was Howard’s kid that came up with the technology, well, I think she understood.”
Bucky nodded then, his eyes never once leaving Steve’s face. He was quiet for a few long moments, and his cheeks were tinged with pink as he spoke again. “I, uh, I don’t want to sound jealous or like I’m shaming you but, did you and Peggy, y’know…”
He trailed off, and Steve bit back a bout of soft laughter. “No, we didn’t,” He said, noting the way Bucky’s shoulders relaxed a little at his admission. “We almost kissed, once. But I couldn’t go through with it. I just kept thinking about you, and about Daniel too. Him and Peggy weren’t together at the point I returned to, but I knew they would become something in the future so long as I wasn’t around,” He sighed quietly. “I hope they still do. I hope I didn’t interfere too much.”
“Was she okay, when you left?” Bucky asked, pushing his hand through Steve’s hair gently.
“She was practically begging me to go towards the end. She saw right through me, I think. Told me to come back to you.” Steve said with a smile, tilting his head slightly as Bucky’s fingertips scratched against his scalp.
Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Course she did. She always was smart as a whip.”
The pair fell into a calm, comfortable silence then, listening to the gentle lap of the water against the sides of the boat. Bucky took both of Steve’s hands between his own, tangling their fingers together and lightly grazing his metal thumb over Steve’s knuckles.
Steve felt lighter than air, as though Bucky’s hands were the only things keeping him grounded. Not only had he confessed his feelings to Bucky – they’d been reciprocated. He couldn’t hide his smile, titling his head forward and nudging Bucky’s nose with his own. “Can I – can I kiss you again?” He asked breathlessly, and Bucky rolled his eyes fondly before pressing their lips together.
“You don’t have to ask.” Bucky murmured into Steve’s mouth.
“Consent is important.”
“Mmm, that is so fucking hot.” Bucky grinned, dropping Steve’s hands and cupping his face instead. Steve pressed his palms to Bucky’s thighs, digging his fingers in slightly and using that leverage to pull himself even closer. He couldn’t help the way he smiled into the kiss, exhilarated as he was to finally be in this position with the man of his dreams.
“Well, this certainly isn’t what I expected.”
Steve and Bucky pulled apart at the sound of Sam’s voice, turning simultaneously to face him. He was standing on the dock, hands on his hips, mouth curved into a shit-eating grin.
“And what did you expect?” Bucky asked, sliding one arm around Steve’s shoulders while the other rested lightly on his chest.
“Oh, you know,” Sam waved a hand through the air in mock-nonchalance. “Arguing, maybe a bit of shouting.”
Bucky threw his head back as he laughed, pulling Steve with him. “Life’s too short for grudges, Sam.”
“Says the centenarian.” Sam quipped, sending both Steve and Bucky into fresh peals of laughter.
Hearing Bucky laugh was nothing short of pure magic. It was the most wonderful sound, and one that Steve had been deprived of for far too long. It was like sunlight and stardust – it was beautiful. He was beautiful, and Steve couldn’t stop looking at him. He knew his own expression was probably sickeningly fond as he watched Bucky laugh, the sun’s warmth kissing the bridge of his nose, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care.
Bucky – and Sam – had forgiven him. Not only that, but they’d easily accepted him back into their lives, when such acceptance was far from what he deserved. That thought alone was enough to bring him to tears; they dripped down his cheeks and disappeared into his beard.
“Woah, hey, Stevie?” Bucky said softly, the smile dropping from his face as he noticed the wetness clinging to Steve’s lashes. “What’s wrong?”
Steve shook his head, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I just – I don’t deserve you,” He said, gaze flickering over to Sam. “Either of you. After what I did, after the way I left-”
“I told you, man,” Sam sighed, stepping down onto the boat and approaching the pair on the bench. He sat down on Steve’s other side, pressing a warm palm to his knee. “I forgive you, and I know for a fact he does too.” He said, gesturing to Bucky who nodded vehemently in response.
“You deserve to be happy, Steve,” Bucky said softly, using the cuff of his jacket to gently wipe the tears from Steve’s cheeks. “Whether here with us, or back with Peggy. Just because it hurt when you left didn’t mean we ever blamed you for it. We know you; we saw what fighting all the time was doing to you. You wanted to go, so I let you. Maybe I should’ve fought harder for you to stay, but I loved you so bad it would’ve killed me to make you stay where you thought you wouldn’t be happy.”
“And hey, in the end, leaving was what made you realise where you wanted to be, right?” Sam asked, nudging Steve’s shoulder gently. “Maybe if you hadn’t left at all, things would be different. Not in a good way.”
“Either way, you’re here now,” Bucky said, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to Steve’s temple. “This is where you want to be?”
“God, yes.” Steve nodded breathlessly, as though he couldn’t get the words out fast enough.
“On my parents’ boat?” Sam quipped, and Steve grinned as Bucky kicked him in the shin.
“Shut up, Sam,” He grumbled, rolling his eyes before turning his attention back to Steve. “You’re happy, yeah? Or at least you think you could be?”
“I’m already happy, Buck,” Steve replied, finding Bucky’s metal hand and holding it tight. “I think I’m happier now than I’ve been for a long time.”
“Then that’s what matters,” Bucky concluded, and Sam nodded his agreement. “But if there comes a time where you’re not happy, or you’re not feeling okay, you tell us, alright? You’re not a burden. We’re here for you, always. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, right?”
“I don’t have a cutesy line like that, but I’m always gonna be here, too.” Sam added, causing Bucky to snort and shake his head.
“On my left, right?” Steve sniffed, tilting his head to wipe his nose against his shoulder. Sam’s responding grin was blinding. “Thank you both. Really. I don’t think either of you know how much that means to me.”
“Oh, we know,” Sam smiled, almost conspiratorially, clapping Steve’s knee before he stood up. “I’m going to head back before Cass and AJ demolish that cake you brought, Bucky. I’ll try and save you both a slice, but I’m not making any promises.”
“We won’t be much longer,” Bucky said, running his metal thumb over the back of Steve’s hand in a soothing, grounding gesture. “You’ll save us some cake if you know what’s good for you. That thing is from my favourite bakery in Brooklyn, and it was not cheap.”
“Uncle Bucky splashed out, huh?” Sam grinned, stepping back up onto the dock. “Makes a change.”
“Shut the fuck up, Sam!”
Sam laughed as he walked away, flipping the bird over his shoulder as he did so. Bucky scowled, grumbling under his breath as he turned back to Steve.
“He’s an asshole.” Bucky muttered, but Steve could tell that there was not one ounce of heat behind his words.
“And you’re a liar.” Steve countered fondly, to which Bucky rolled his eyes.
“Whatever you say, Stevie. You about ready to head back?”
“Can I –” Steve paused for a moment, lifting his free hand and pressing it to Bucky’s jaw. “Can I kiss you again?” He asked, tracing the line of Bucky’s bottom lip with the edge of his thumb.
Bucky’s mouth tipped upwards into a smile, and he leaned forward to press that smile against Steve’s own. They kissed like that for a few minutes; achingly tender and searingly, blindingly happy.
“Okay,” Bucky said as he pulled away, placing a hand on Steve’s chest as he tried to chase down another kiss. “Okay, doll. There really will be nothing left if we don’t go back now,” He warned, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Steve’s ear. “But we can return to this later, okay? Maybe somewhere that isn’t Sam’s parents’ boat?”
“Your place?” Steve asked. “In Brooklyn?”
Bucky nodded, relishing in the steady thrum of Steve’s heart beneath his palm. “Yeah. I moved back, after you left. Got myself a loft apartment, like we always wanted.”
“I look forward to seeing it,” Steve’s smile faltered a little. “If, uh, if you’ll let me, that is.”
“Well,” Bucky pretended to ponder that as he stood, pulling Steve up with him. “I do happen to be looking for a roommate, if you know of anyone in need of a place?”
Steve’s answering grin was blinding.
“I know just the fella.”
SIX MONTHS LATER
TMZ @TMZ
Sergeant James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, Also Known As ‘The Winter Soldier’, Spotted in Prospect Park with Mystery Man!
alice @alice_holton
@ TMZ still with this winter soldier shit??? thought he was known as the white wolf now???
Dr. Mason @Magic_Mason
@TMZ Yeah, I swear Sam Wilson said that a few months ago?
billie eyelash @billieinacrown
@Magic_Mason yeah he did, but putting the winter soldier in a title is always gonna get more clicks. it’s fucking annoying.
Sahara @s.thomas
That’s what you guys are fixating on?
ada | stevebucky supremacy @rogersbarnes
okay call me a clown all you want but?????? bucky’s boyfriend looks like steve?????? right???????
Mischa @srgntbrns
@rogersbarnes ADA I LITERALLY THOUGHT THE SAME THING WHAT THE FUCK SJKSJ
Neil Arthur @Neil.Arthur.89
@rogersbarnes God, you shippers are so fucking embarrassing.
ada | stevebucky supremacy @rogersbarnes
@Neil.Arthur.89 did anyone ask you? no <3
Aleena Chaudhry @aleena4156
Okay, thread time. Normally I wouldn’t post about stuff like this BUT with everything going round on Twitter recently I wanted to share. (1)
Aleena Chaudhry @aleena4156
So, for anyone that doesn’t know, I live in Brooklyn. I’ve lived here for about twenty years now. I lived here when Steve Rogers came back, and I saw him around a few times. (2)
Aleena Chaudhry @aleena4156
Lately, I’ve also seen James Barnes around. Apparently, after everything that happened with the Blip and with Steve’s death, he moved back to Brooklyn. I’m sure everyone knows that they both lived in Brooklyn together before the war. (3)
Aleena Chaudhry @aleena4156
Barnes was gone for a while, when everything with John Walker and the Flag Smashers was going down. (Sidenote: Sam Wilson is the perfect Captain America.) Anyway, I’ve been seeing him around again recently. (4)
Aleena Chaudhry @aleena4156
He used to walk around on his own, but he has someone with him now. I haven’t got a good look at their face because they’re usually wearing a hat and glasses, though. Whoever they are, Barnes is head over heels for them. The way he looks at them is the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. (5)
Aleena Chaudhry @aleena4156
I don’t want to share too much, because they deserve their privacy. But Barnes seems really, seriously happy. He never smiled before, but he smiles all the time now. (6 + end)
Aleena Chaudhry @aleena4156
Okay, just adding to this because I’ve seen a few people asking. Yes, they’re definitely a couple. Well, unless Barnes is in the habit of casually making out with his friends in the middle of Prospect Park on a Sunday morning.
Aleena Chaudhry @aleena4156
I’ve also seen a lot of people asking if his partner is Steve Rogers. I have no idea. As far as I’m aware, Rogers is dead, so I’d assume not. They do look a bit alike, though. Maybe Barnes has a type.
Aleena Chaudhry @aleena4156
One more thing, because I got an influx of vitriol in my mentions after those last two tweets. Barnes’s sexuality is his own business; not yours, not mine, not anyone else’s. He might come out, he might not. That’s up to him. Also, if you’re going to be homophobic, you can fuck right off.
sip sip bitch @pipinghotea
is sergeant james barnes – aka the white wolf – currently dating a clone of steve rogers? check out my newest youtube video to find out! link in the bio, bitches. <3
BossBitch @jake.jones
@pipinghotea I thought steve rogers was on the moon????????????
ellis (they/them) @ellisrose
@jake.jones are you fucking joking
Bucky snorted at the most recent theory doing the rounds on Twitter: that his new, buff, mysterious boyfriend was a clone of none other than Steve Rogers. He had to admit that, all things considered, it probably wasn’t that far beyond the realms of possibility. He found the video link and saved it to his Watch Later on YouTube, vowing to show it to Steve at some point.
Speaking of Steve.
Bucky tossed his phone onto the bed, turning his attention to the man currently snoring like a freight train on the other side. He and Steve had been living together since the cookout, returning seamlessly to cohabitation. They’d also been dating since then, and their relationship had garnered a significant amount of media attention. Steve didn’t venture outside without some semblance of a disguise – usually a combination of sunglasses and a baseball cap – due to the fact that only Bucky, the Wilson family, and their tight-knit community knew that he was alive. They hadn’t told anyone else yet; they were still working their way up to that. They weren’t planning on telling the public, but the remaining Avengers would no doubt find out at some point.
The last six months had been fairly quiet, in the grand scheme of things. Sam had been working alongside the GRC in an official capacity and had done a lot of practical work in refugee camps as part of that. Bucky accompanied him most of the time, and Steve had begun tagging along too – disguised, of course.
They hadn’t heard or seen anything of John Walker, which suited Bucky fine though he couldn’t help but be a little bit suspicious. He’d seen the look in Walker’s eyes; power-hungry, bloodthirsty delusion like that didn’t just go away.
Sam had donned the Captain America suit fairly regularly; there had been a high-profile hostage situation, a few combat scenarios, and a handful of official appearances. Steve had cried the first time he’d seen Sam in the suit, shield polished to perfection on his arm. His reaction to Bucky all suited up, however, had been extremely different. It had involved a lot more kissing and a lot less crying, with some added groping for good measure.
Steve still found it difficult to stay at home whenever Sam and Bucky went out on the job. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to go out and fight, but he still felt like it was his responsibility. He was always glued to the television whenever Sam and Bucky were involved in an active situation that was being covered on the news; he usually stood right in front of the screen, chewing on his fingernails to try and distract himself. Sometimes he painted – something he’d taken up again recently – but more often than not he couldn’t concentrate on his art when the television was commanding his attention.
Bucky and Sam had been considering bringing Steve on as a kind of handler – in a similar position to Torres – but they hadn’t broached the topic with him yet. It might be good for him; it meant that he could help without being directly involved in the action. But, on the other hand, Steve was meant to be retired. He’d done more than his fair share of fighting, after all.
Bucky sighed, shaking his head slightly. He turned his attention back to the Steve that was currently in his bed, not the one in his head, and allowed himself a moment to just admire him.
A shaft of sunlight was falling in through a gap in the curtains, spilling across the bed like syrup. It gave Steve an angelic quality, softening his edges and painting him in gold. His cheeks were flushed with sleep, his expression overwhelmingly relaxed and open. Bucky reached out with his metal hand and trailed his knuckles gently up Steve’s cheekbone. The sunlight fell molten into the grooves of his arm, giving them a glow that seemed to transfer onto Steve’s skin.
Bucky let his fingertips drift all over Steve’s face, touching him with an achingly tender reverence. He let his hand travel downwards, resting it lightly at the line of Steve’s throat and relishing in the steady thrum of his pulse against his palm.
God, Bucky was so in love.
He’d never loved another person like this before, that much he was sure of. Steve, though? He’d loved Steve like this for over eighty years; even when he didn’t remember his name, he’d remembered this love. The Winter Soldier had struggled to process the enormity of his feelings, especially when they were so confusingly directed at his Mission. Bucky, however, knew exactly how to process them now.
He shifted closer to Steve, bedsheets falling to pool around their waists as he did so. He leaned forward ever so carefully, touching his lips to the high points of Steve’s face in veneration: his cheekbones, his temples, his brow bones, the bridge of his nose, the apples of his cheeks, the line of his jaw. Each press of Bucky’s lips was light but was absolutely soaked in tender adoration.
He felt breathless by the time he pulled away; hand still pressed to the side of Steve’s neck. Bucky felt the uptick in Steve’s pulse as he woke, and felt a languid smile pull at the corner of his mouth as those enviably long lashes fluttered.
“Good morning.” Bucky murmured as Steve blinked to wakefulness, a matching smile spreading across his own face.
“Mmm, good morning,” Steve grinned, tilting his head to bump the tip of his nose against Bucky’s own. “What a wonderful sight to wake up to.”
“Oh?” Bucky chuckled, sweeping his thumb down the front of Steve’s throat. “Flatterer.”
“You deserve it,” Steve hummed, ducking forward to capture Bucky’s lips in an agonizingly sweet kiss. “How are you feeling today?” He asked after a few languorous moments, bringing his hand up to the curve of Bucky’s waist.
“I’m good,” Bucky nodded, kissing the tip of Steve’s nose. “Just been checking on today’s Twitter theories. People think you’re a clone.”
Steve’s fingertips pressed into the spaces between Bucky’s ribs as he laughed; a short bark of laughter that was both bright and beautiful. “A clone,” He shook his head. “Is there a video this time?”
“You bet,” Bucky nodded, and Steve laughed again. “I’ve saved it so we can watch it together.”
“Oh, I’m so excited!” Steve smiled, and Bucky knew he wasn’t even joking. “Can we make popcorn like last time?”
“Sure we can, Stevie. Wanna make a blanket fort, too?”
“It’s like you read my mind.” Steve’s grin was blinding and stole the breath from Bucky’s throat. He shook his head, utterly helpless, and chased Steve’s mouth for another kiss.
This was the life he’d always dreamed of. He held love between his fingertips, and he never wanted to let it go.
“Steve?” Bucky whispered, pulling back ever so slightly. He could feel Steve’s breath against his lips, skin warm beneath his hand.
“Hm?”
“You wanna get married?”
Steve blinked.
“You’re – you’re serious?” Steve asked, eyes wide and painfully earnest. Bucky nodded, not trusting his voice, and Steve’s face lit up. “Fuck, yes, I thought you’d never ask. Yes, I want to get married, oh my god-”
“Yeah? You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m fucking sure!” Steve grinned, pushing Bucky onto his back and kissing him with fervour. “Oh my god, Buck. Are we – we’re engaged!”
“Yeah, baby. We’re engaged,” Bucky laughed softly, letting his hands settle on Steve’s thighs that were now bracketing his waist. He slipped his thumbs beneath Steve’s boxers, rubbing gentle circles into his skin. “Well, I don’t have a ring yet. But maybe we can go shopping for them together?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Steve nodded desperately, leaning over Bucky and kissing him again, and again, and again. “God, I love you so much. I adore you. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.” He whispered into Bucky’s mouth, fingertips curling around his jaw to hold him in place.
Bucky couldn’t even fathom the fact that, only a year ago, he’d been reeling from the loss of the man he loved. A year ago, he’d felt abandoned; now, he felt loved, adored, coveted, worshipped.
And he would feel like that forever. Steve Rogers would make sure of that.