Chapter Text
Bucky threw his arm around Y/N’s shoulders as they watched a movie to settle down for the evening. Y/N smiled and turned his head to receive the kiss he knew was waiting for him; Bucky was far from subtle when it came to staring a hole into someone. The small kiss turned into a little more, Bucky’s perfect mouth making Y/N melt until he parted his lips and moaned quietly as the man explored him. A vibranium hand caressing his side, over his clothing, whilst the other cradled the back of his head. “Buck…” Y/N breathed his name, his eyes had slid shut, and he tilted his head as Bucky deepened the kisses. Y/N felt the other’s fingers at the hem of his top and broke their kiss, “Bucky,” it was a little firmer this time. Y/N’s hands pushed gently on his chest, and the brunette took the hint; he pulled back and placed a kiss on Y/N’s forehead.
Y/N avoided the man’s gaze, looking blankly at the screen, he knew Bucky wanted to be intimate with him. He wanted it too, had imagined Bucky making love to him in bed, fucking him against the wall, and Y/N couldn’t count the times he’d masturbated to the thought. He just… hadn’t told Bucky the truth yet.
Was terrified to do so.
Seeing a head tilt in his peripheral, Y/N swallowed thickly, still looking ahead, “I’m sorry, Bucky…”
Bucky lifted Y/N’s chin with his thumb and index, turning him to look, “Hey,” he murmured gently, blue eyes forever patient and kind. “You don’t gotta be sorry if you’re not ready. Who am I to tell you otherwise? I’m not upset… I’m just worried you are.”
Y/N smiled at him lightly and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips; they’d been together for a year and a half, and never once had Bucky pressured him into sex. He’d met the brunette at his gym, Y/N remembered he’d almost crushed himself on the bench press, and Bucky had come out of nowhere to catch it before it fell.
~
“Shit!” Y/N gasped in shock, his arms were shaking, and he panted as his heart hammered from the rush of adrenaline. He watched wide eyed as the stranger put it on the brackets with one hand, “Fuck… Am I that puny?”
Bucky filled his vision as he laid there and tried to process what had nearly happened, "I’m just that strong. But that’s why you shouldn’t lift without a spotter,“ he pat Y/N on the shoulder and went back to his own workout. Slowly, Y/N sat up and took a deep breath, glancing at the sweaty brunette as the man lifted weights like it wasn’t a chore. Y/N found himself hypnotised by the way the man’s muscles moved under his tight, long-sleeved top. "You need some water?" Bucky had turned to him with a blinding grin.
"H-huh… W-what?”
“You’re looking kinda thirsty, fella." Y/N couldn’t remember having ever blushed so hard.
They had started working out together, Bucky giving him pointers on building certain muscle groups, and then he asked Y/N out for dinner after Y/N reached his first target weight. Y/N kept a picture of them on his phone from when they first met; he couldn’t believe he was that was him when they met. When he looked in the mirror now, he could grin at his reflection. Bucky had caught him flexing a few times and teased him.
After seven months, Y/N had been comfortable enough to take his vest off during a summer session; he’d been embarrassed when Bucky’s eyes had run over the almost invisible, matching scars blending into the crease of his growing pecs.
"I… they’re from, I mean they aren’t really…" He unscrewed the vest that he had crushed in his hands and made to put it back on; the confidence he’d been feeling suddenly evaporated.
Bucky caught his wrist and shook his head, "I didn’t say a word.”
“…I guess." He looked away and stood silent, wondering how he could escape the situation he had just made so awkward. A rustle of clothing caught his attention, and he looked up to find Bucky with his top halfway off, the material covering his left shoulder and arm still. Y/N couldn’t help but stare at the bared, tan skin covering hard, defined muscles – The man was beautiful
Though Bucky’s expression was best described as troubled, "I’m not gonna be offended if you wanna walk out the door, Y/N, but you should probably see it sooner or later….” Y/N looked confused, and then his lips parted, and his jaw went slack as he saw what Bucky had been hiding all this time. Bucky's left shoulder, part of his chest and ribs, his entire arm - Y/N could only stare at the prosthetic. It was so carefully made, even muscle definition matched the right arm. It looked as if Bucky had dipped his arm in black metallic latex and then had an artist carefully inlay it with gold.
“It’s beautiful…" He hadn’t meant to speak aloud, and he turned into a jabbering idiot to cover what he thought was a mistake, "I’m sorry! I didn’t mean – I hope you don’t hate it because it’s - it’s nice. It’s part of you, and you’re nice so… so, yeah.”
“I used to hate it.” Bucky pulled his glove off, and Y/N reached for it before either really thought about it, vibranium fingers flexed and moved to show off the dexterity. “It wasn’t something I could control, and I didn’t think I could change the way I looked at it, but now, I’m getting used to it.”
Y/N stroked their palm up the length of Bucky’s arm; it was smooth and warm, then he came to the neat seam of metal and flesh, scars much more prominent than his reminded him that Bucky had lost a limb. And here he was, gushing over a replacement. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”
The brunette’s fingers traced along one of Y/N's chest scars, "Don’t be sorry, not every scar has to remain a sad story.“
~
That had been the turning point in their relationship, and Y/N had been the happiest he had ever been; until recently. When he had started to feel anxious that Bucky wanted intimacy, and Y/N was terrified of the prospect. He had to tell the man the truth, but it could ruin everything. Bucky didn’t know about Y/N.
That he was trans.
He had almost told him once; it had been on the day that Bucky had to awkwardly explain his history. That he was an ex-brainwashed assassin for something called Hydra and that he was born just before the nineteen-twenties. He’d taken Y/N to the Smithsonian Museum, introduced him to Steve Rogers and laughed at the way his boyfriend stuttered and nearly tripped up whilst introducing himself.
It had been a lovely day out at first, but then as Bucky had to tell him about all the awful things they made him do - Y/N felt their troubles were so minor in comparison and held the other tight instead.
"Bucky, I need to tell you something.” Bucky paused the movie and sat up straight, he could hear the serious note in his boyfriend’s voice, and if he were honest with himself, Bucky knew something had been coming for a long time. He had already created so many scenarios in his head, and each got worse the more he pondered it. “About why I can’t…” He gestured between their bodies, “It’s not you – you don’t know how bad I want you. I know you might think I don’t because I, well, I stop you every time – What I need to tell you is – fucking hell!” Y/N stood up from the sofa and paced the room, frustrated at himself for being unable to speak.
Bucky sat forward and held his right hand out, “Just stop a sec,” he knew that Y/N had confidence troubles, knew that he struggled to speak in complete, coherent sentences when he got anxious and that in turn made Bucky feel on edge. “Hold my hand.” Y/N stopped and took the man’s hand, squeezed it and took a deep breath in; he held it for a few seconds and then exhaled, “You got this…” Bucky smiled up at him, and Y/N didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The smile was slowly replaced by a more concerned expression as Bucky looked up at him, “Did someone hurt you? Is that why you’re so nervous when we get close? Because you know I’d never hurt you, Y/N, I wouldn’t force you to-”
Y/N placed his fingers to Bucky’s lips and knelt in front of him, “No,” he said quickly, “Nothing like that, Buck, no one’s done anything like that to me.” There was a fleeting wish in his mind that that was the problem; he felt ashamed immediately for the thought and berated himself silently.
“Y/N… you’re scaring me, fella.” Bucky had told him his darkest part of his past, and Y/N couldn’t tell him something that was bothering him – how bad was it? Y/N stood suddenly and headed out of the room, “Y/N!” Bucky got to his feet and made to follow.
“I-I’m coming back. I just need to, what I need to do is… I…’ his fist hit the frame of the door angrily, and he huffed, "I. Need. To. Get something.”
Bucky nodded, “Okay.” He sat back down on the edge of the sofa and waited, his fists opening and closing nervously until the other man returned with a piece of paper in his hand. Y/N sat beside him and gingerly held it out, let Bucky take it from his shaking fingers and study the old photograph – the only one he had of this person. It was a photo of a young woman; the brunette sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and stared at her, caught himself thinking that her eyes were the same as Y/N’s. She was pretty, and she looked a little awkward, almost like she was uncomfortable in her own skin; she wore an oversized, shapeless sweater, her arms were crossed over herself, and Bucky glanced up at the man beside him, “Is she your sister?”
The other man had never spoken about his family, and Bucky wondered if this girl had something to do with it. He could see worn places on the photograph; a singed corner told him that maybe, just maybe, Y/N had tried to burn it. She looked so alike to him but at the same time very different.
“She’s not my sister.” A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth, and he began to draw into himself – a feat much harder than his skinnier days. ‘That’s, that’s um…’ Y/N sniffed and swiped the back of his hand under his nose, “That was me.”
Drawing his eyebrows together and frowning at the photo, Bucky blinked twice, slowly, letting the silence and the new information sink in, analysing it, turning it over and over until he simply nodded; he leaned forward and placed the photo on the coffee table.
“I’m transgender.” He said it aloud, and it felt like glass in his throat, “The scars on my chest, they’re from when I had my second operation. I, uh, I had my uterus, womb…all the plumbing removed first.” Now that he had said it, he found that he couldn’t stop, “I have testosterone hormone therapy, and I know I told you I was putting money aside to pay a student loan – that’s not true. I’m saving to have bottom surgery… because I still have my… old parts.” Bucky still hadn’t said anything, and Y/N took in a shaky breath, “Buck… I’m… sorry?”
Was he sorry?
He felt like he should be, but at the same time, Y/N knew he shouldn’t apologise for wanting to be himself. “Sorry…”
Bucky leaned back on the sofa and let his head fall back as he stared at the ceiling. He then seemed to nod to himself and sat up again. He turned to look at Y/N and grabbed his shaking hands with both his; he ducked his head a little so that he could see the other’s eyes and told him to raise his head to look him in the eye. “Don’t be sorry.” Bucky told him firmly and repeated it, “Don’t be sorry.”
“…Buck?”
“I’m not sorry.” He told him straight, “I’m not sorry that we met, I’m not sorry I asked you out, I’m not sorry we’re together, I’m not sorry that I’m falling in love with you. I’m not sorry.”
Y/N scoffed slightly, “I just told you I’m not; well, I am a man, but… I wasn’t. But…” He hated being so nervous, “You know what transgender means, right?” Bucky was from a very different time, and Y/N believed he was taking it so well because maybe he didn’t understand.
“I’m a hundred years old, but I understand what you’re telling me.” He gave the hands in his another squeeze, letting his boyfriend know that he was there, that he was real and wasn’t going to get up and leave. “You’re a man. Whether you have a penis or not, doesn’t matter to me. You’re Y/N. You’re my guy. You didn’t want me feeling you up in case I found out?” Y/N nodded, and Bucky leaned in to kiss him, “Socks?”
Y/N let out a watery laugh, suddenly overwhelmed by the acceptance and casual way Bucky treated him, “Not socks. There’s a dick down there. It’s just detachable.”
“God, I wish I could remove my balls sometimes because when it gets hot – shit, I’m not gonna spoil it for you, you’ll find out for yourself.” Bucky listened to the other laugh and smiled lightly, brushing away a tear that had escaped Y/N’s eye. It was a surprise, but as long as Y/N was Y/N – he didn’t care.
Boy.
Girl.
Fluid.
As far as Bucky Barnes was concerned and Y/N was happy,
Y/N was his man.