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Two months. It had been two months to the day since the shit had hit the fan. Bucky didn’t know that of course. He only knew that it was about time he finally got back to him.
Him. The man on the bridge. Steve was his name, right?
Bucky only knew that he knew nothing. Except for Steve. He knew he knew Steve.
But that was it. He didn’t know why or how he knew Steve, or why he felt like he should be near Steve.
Steve was the only thing he knew, aside from various ways to kill a man, but Bucky tried not to acknowledge that.
So here he was, refusing to acknowledge his darker half, and instead focusing on Steve. He had to do something with the thoughts bouncing around in his head, and this option felt right. So he found out where Steve lived and went there.
Stark tower was intimidating to Bucky. Not because of the size, but because of the many people that its size could hold. And Bucky didn’t like to be around too many people. So of course the walk to the tower was also rather difficult.
Bucky eventually got to the front doors, but no farther.
He just stared at the door, hands in his pockets and head down. The sun had already gone down because he had spent too long taking back alleys and detours to avoid large crowds of people. He needed to blend in, so he was wearing the clothes he had stolen right before he had gone to the museum and learned all about himself.
He was James Buchanan Barnes. Best friend of Captain America.
The title didn’t seem to fit Bucky. He didn’t feel comfortable with it. It was too righteous for him, he thought. He didn’t think he was a very righteous person. Maybe he was righteous when he was the man in the museum, but he wasn’t him anymore. He was--
Bucky was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts and back into reality when someone came out of the door he had been staring at. He sidestepped to avoid the man who came walking out, and he caught a glimpse of the inside.
The inside of that building is where Steve is, he thought. And he wanted to be where Steve was.
Bucky stuck a foot in the door. He didn’t think, just caught it right before it fell closed, and was inside in just one step.
Bucky immediately regretted his decision.
It took a whole half second for someone to recognize Bucky after he stepped inside.
Immediately the shouting started. The lobby suddenly filled with a mix of people. Some were in suits, some were in full body armor. No matter what they wore though, they had a gun.
The guns. There were lots of guns. Bucky’s training kicked in and he began to assess the scene in front of him and plan his attack before he could stop himself.
But he did stop himself.
Bucky told himself that he will not kill these people. He is learning. Slowly though. By then he had figured out for himself that even if they tried to kill him, he does not deserve to live more than them. He knew he was a monster. No use trying to save a monster.
The crowd around Bucky was frozen. There were a few dozen guns trained on him. So he was also frozen. Because he knew nothing other than fighting back and he had already dismissed that option.
Bucky was acutely aware of the amount of time that passed. He counted the seconds.
1:14
1:15
1:16
A door burst open. People shifted. A few looked to see who had entered. Bucky couldn’t. The people with guns were in the way. But then some of the people with guns moved out of the way. And the man making all that racket came into view.
Steve’s here.
Steve is moving towards me.
Steve is saying my name.
Steve is—
Bucky froze even more if that was possible. Steve was hugging him.
His arms were pinned by his sides, hands still in his pockets because Steve was hugging him too tightly. Also because he was still frozen.
Steve’s body on the other hand was not frozen. It was trembling and his arms kept shifting so that they could wrap tighter around Bucky.
Steve was crying.
And he wouldn’t stop saying Bucky’s name. Maybe to reassure himself that Bucky was really there. But it was also helping Bucky to realize that he himself was really there.
In Steve’s arms.
And apparently also crying, which he realized when a tear ran down his face.
His arms started to move a little.
Even under Steve’s steel grip he managed to move his arms up and return the hug, very slowly.
The crowd around them had lowered their weapons even more slowly.
So here Bucky was, with Steve.