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When Bucky first came home (that’s how Steve thought of it even though they were in hiding in Wakanda instead of a small flat in Brooklyn), he had been quiet a lot.
He hadn’t been skittish or scared or any of the things Bucky claimed he was when he first broke through the decades of conditioning and manipulation. Steve hadn’t been around for that, but to hear Bucky confess it, it was a mental breakdown like he couldn’t have comprehended if he hadn’t lived through it himself. It had been two years of self-exploration and learning his own coping mechanisms and discovering his personal preferences for things all over again. He figured out that he slept better with the lights off so his mind could settle even if it meant listening even harder to the sounds of the apartment complex as he lie there in the dark. He learned that a warm shower before bed relaxed his body and warm milk from a mug made him feel safe in his mind, like he were small again and his grandmother was spoiling him before tucking him in.
He knew it was best to sleep with layers of clothing on. It made it easier to make a quick getaway and wearing extra layers kept him warm without making him feel confined the way a lot of heavy blankets did.
He didn’t jump at car horns now or panic someone had found him wherever someone made eye contact and then looked away.
When Steve would visit, Bucky would welcome him in with an awkward half-wave of his hand, ask him how things were out in the rest of the world, offer to make him tea, and tell him about his goats and neighbors. It wasn't as if Bucky were silent. Still, something about him was quieter overall.
The Bucky Steve had always known was playful and constantly joking. The Bucky from before would have easily slung an arm around Steve's shoulders or middle and teased him, swatted at him to move when Steve wasn't doing something right or when Bucky simply wanted to do something himself. That Bucky had always been one to throw things with a simple, "Catch," on his lips. But Bucky now handed things over easily, waited and watched how Steve did something without ever nudging him aside, and never touched Steve without Steve starting it. It was something they were getting used to. Or, well, Steve was getting used to. This was the same Bucky and yet somehow a different man.
Bucky motioned with a hand toward his wooden, round bowl chair with its large pillow seat and Steve had taken the offer. He leaned back in the seat, enjoying how the size of it made him feel more protected than most chairs. Steve always felt unusually protected in Wakanda. It was something he'd not realized before until he stayed a day with Bucky the first time and then left again. Everything felt more vulnerable outside Wakanda.
"I have coffee this time," Bucky said as he looked at the beans. "I could grind some for us if you want."
"That would be great, Buck," Steve answered. He was up now and cooking their fish in a pan for their evening meal. He wasn't sure how well coffee would go with fish, but he also wasn't going to turn down Bucky’s offer. Instead, he just asked, "Are you thinking coffee with dinner or coffee after dinner?"
"With dessert," Bucky clarified quietly. "I made dessert."
Steve tried to hide his surprise, but Bucky noticed everything. "I'm going to let you know when I'm coming by more often."
Bucky smiled softly. "It gives me time to prepare."
"Clearly. First, you had us fresh fish and now you tell me there's dessert."
Bucky began to measure out cups of coffee beans and pour them into a grinder.
"I do the same things everyday, but I don't mind you changing my schedule."
"Honestly, it amazes me you have a schedule," Steve admitted. "You used to tease me for my schedule and you did everything sporadically and on the fly. It used to drive me crazy." He picked up a lemon and sliced it before adding the juice to the fish he was cooking.
"A schedule helps me," Bucky said with a shrug. "If I don't try to keep some kind of time, I lose a lot just being in my own head."
Steve pressed his lips together to keep from frowning outright.
"You used to get lost in your head after you'd read something. When you would begin speaking again, you'd start talking about space or some technology you'd read about and you'd completely lose me every time. But you were so into it, I never had the heart to stop you except to remind you that I wasn't following as well as you hoped."
Bucky smiled lightly. He both loved and hated stories of his old self. He loved them because they were hard for him to remember personally and it was good to know about himself, yet he hated them because he knew he wasn't the same person Steve remembered.
"What did you read?"
"Magazines?" Steve laughed. "I didn't read a lot. I was always busy drawing."
Bucky stopped setting up the coffee grinder and looked at Steve a little curious. "Drawing?"
"Yeah," Steve commented. He added more lemon juice and then threw away the fruit. "I used to draw a lot."
"You don't draw anymore?"
Steve turned away a half-second to hide the pained face he made in response to Bucky truly not remembering so many things about their pasts.
"No," he answered as casually as possible. "But I, uh, I went to art school before the war. Wanted to do print ads and things for newspapers and-"
"Magazines."
"Exactly."
"You don't draw now though. Why?"
Steve should have seen this coming. No one else on the planet would give a damn if Steve stopped drawing, but he'd gone and opened his mouth to the one person...
"What did you draw?" Bucky asked when Steve didn't answer the first question quickly enough.
"Just whatever came to mind. Different things."
"Me?"
"Sometimes."
"New York?"
"Sometimes."
"Yourself?"
"Only for a school project once."
"Would you draw something again? Draw one of my goats. Draw Potato. Or Drawstring." Bucky rested his finger over the grind button, but didn't press it yet as he watched Steve transfer the fish onto the tops of their waiting salads.
"Who is Drawstring?"
"The idiot who always gets his head stuck in the fence and panics because he doesn't realize he can get it out by himself."
"That's the one I'm drawing," Steve laughed before nodding for Bucky to go ahead. Bucky smirked a little to himself and pressed the grind button. Steve turned off the stove and placed the dishes to be washed as the grinder made significantly less noise than one outside Wakanda would have made.
Steve gathered their utensils and then went to pour their drinks while Bucky put the coffee on for their dessert.
"It's a chocolate cake," Bucky said excitedly. "I have cherries and strawberries to go with it if you want one of those."
"You made chocolate cake?" Steve asked, both impressed and amused.
"I was going to make pie, but this recipe sounded good," Bucky explained. He shrugged a little as if he were unsure of himself. Steve still wasn't used to seeing Bucky be unsure about anything.
"Can't wait to try it."
Steve carried their drinks back to the table and Bucky made sure the coffee was brewing fine before following Steve over.
Bucky only ate at the table when Steve was over. Otherwise, he usually ate breakfast standing at the counter, lunch on the go as he worked, and dinner sitting on the edge of his bed while his brain was absorbed in whatever book he was reading.
"So have you been fishing more lately?" Steve asked as they sat down in front of their salads.
Bucky shrugged. "Not really." He didn't offer anymore so Steve tucked into his food and Bucky did the same.
There was a comfortable silence between them. Steve remembered how it used to be awkward. Bucky had been kind about it, but they'd both felt it. Both men knew they were supposed to be close, but neither were sure how to get back there. At least they were doing better these days.
Bucky had always had manners when he ate. Winifred Barnes hadn't slacked in proper parenting. But watching him eat now, there was a hesitation to everything he did, almost as if he weren't sure what to do or if someone were going to take the food away or tell him he was doing everything wrong.
Steve tried not to watch. He was sure paying too close of attention to Bucky would make it worse so he just ate his food a little slower than usual so he wouldn't finish before Bucky was even halfway through.
"That was delicious," Steve told him as he went to wash his empty dishes. "Thank you again for catching them."
"Are you still hungry?"
Steve shook his head a little. "I'm okay right now. Are you still hungry?"
Bucky shrugged. "I get hungry a lot."
"You want me to help make something else or should we try dessert?"
Bucky smiled excitedly as if he had forgotten his own dessert. "Cake."
"Take your time," Steve said realizing Bucky was still working on finishing his salad. "I don't want to rush you."
Bucky took another unsure bite and then looked at Steve as he chewed. His expression said he wanted to say something, but his mouth never opened. Even between bites, no words came out.
"I'll bring us food next time," Steve told him. "I'll still happily take the fish, but that way you don't have to prepare everything yourself. I'll bring something from the city for us to cook."
Steve may have honestly been trying to help, but Bucky took it to mean Steve wasn't pleased with the food despite having watched him eat every last bite.
"I can get whatever you want," Bucky offered quickly. "Just tell me wh-"
"Buck, no," Steve said, shaking his head and reaching a hand out to stop him. "Let me do something for you. You work hard. You deserve a little kindness from the guy who just drops in whenever he feels like it."
"Your visits are welcome."
Bucky’s words caught Steve by surprise and suddenly a small hopeful grin broke out across Steve's features.
"Yeah?"
Bucky nodded once and then again with a kind of surety that Steve felt deep in his bones and helped restore his spirit. Steve was delighted that Bucky finished his salad rather than stop eating in some misguided effort to appease him.
"I'll get the cake," Bucky told Steve when Steve took the bowl to wash. Steve found himself eager for the taste of chocolate and then found himself outright moaning at the rich flavors that hit his tongue as he took the first bite.
"My god, Buck," Steve declared as he swallowed the first bite. "This may honestly be the best dessert I've ever tasted. I promise I'm not just trying to butter you up. I mean it."
Bucky sipped on his coffee and watched Steve eat.
"Aren't you going to eat yours?" Steve motioned with his fork before cutting the next bite delicately. Both of Bucky’s hands were wrapped around the coffee mug and he didn't budge. "Is everything alright?"
Bucky nodded and then fixed his slice of cake with a confused expression. He couldn't explain why he felt like he shouldn't have it.
Then suddenly Steve was holding out his own fork with a bite of chocolate cake on it.
"Please? You have to enjoy your own masterpiece."
Bucky reached and carefully took Steve's fork between his metal fingers and took the bite for himself. It felt downright sinful on his tongue.
"Amazing, right?"
Bucky offered his own fork to Steve who took it easily and kept eating very happily.
"That's a good recipe," Bucky agreed.
"Recipe that you found and made," Steve stressed. "If you find anyone you want to instantly like you, just share some of this cake. They'll be powerless against it."
Bucky smiled and began to cut into his own slice carefully.
"Thank you, but all I did was follow directions."
"Like a miracle worker."
Bucky didn't argue and they ate the rest of their slices and drank their coffee in very easy, even if quiet companionship. It was after they finished and had washed up that Bucky brought himself to ask, "Will you stay here?"
Steve spun around quickly from where he'd set his phone to charge and looked at Bucky.
"With you?" Steve always stayed by himself when he visited. He never wanted to encroach too much on Bucky’s space, especially if him staying at night would make Bucky unable to truly rest.
Bucky nodded. "If you want."
"Buck, of course," Steve answered, trying not to let his internal screaming reveal itself. "I'm honored you would even ask."
Bucky shrugged. "You make things feel... right."
Steve came and sat down next to Bucky. "Before you came back- You know, back when I thought you were dead." The word tasted sour in Steve's mouth. "I never felt like everything was going to be alright. I felt lost, hopeless, despondent at times. Often I would just throw myself into various SHIELD missions just to feel like I was still making a difference. I wasn't happy. I was just existing."
Steve glanced to see Bucky staring back waiting for the rest.
"Then you came back. And everything isn't perfect. Hell, most things are a wreck, but there's this voice in the back of my mind now that just keeps saying that nothing is as bad as it was. Everything is better now."
"Better now that you lost your friends because of me and you're on the run?"
"I'm not on the run right now. I'm here with my best guy having a good evening and over indulging in fresh fish and chocolate cake and all of the best splendors of life."
Certain words caught Bucky's ears and he knew the question was now or never.
"Steve, what were we?"
Steve was caught off guard as he tried to understand what Bucky wanted.
"We- Before?"
Bucky nodded.
"We were best friends, Buck. Roommates, brothers in arms, practically brothers in everyday life."
Bucky paused. "Brothers."
"Yeah, Bucky," Steve agreed before he saw Bucky's expression. Bucky was conflicted about something. "Why do you ask?"
Bucky sucked in a breath and neutralized his expression. "Just so I can be sure."
Steve couldn't stop himself. "What was unsure? Did you feel like we weren't? I wouldn't lie to you."
Bucky pursed his lips and ran his flesh hand down the seam of his pants.
"I was just making sure," he settled on.
Steve opened his mouth to say more and then stopped. He changed the topic and made a show of looking around. "So where do I sleep? Got a few blankets I can make a pallet with or are you gonna sleep under the stars with me or-?"
Bucky looked toward a back area quickly and so, instinctively, Steve did too.
"I have a number of blankets. I was just thinking the bed was big enough for two. We used to share a small space in a small tent. You said that."
Steve looked surprised, but also somewhat excited.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "Don't let me overstep any boundaries-"
Bucky shrugged as if all of his courage had already been used to make the suggestion.
"If I keep you up, feel free to kick me out of bed. I don't wanna stop you from getting your sleep."
Bucky gave him a small smile. "I always sleep when you're here these days." In fact, he slept even better than when he was alone, but he wasn't about to tell Steve that. Not yet.
"Yeah, I could tell you'd gotten tired enough of me to need to sleep through it."
"Not true!" Bucky argued back immediately. There was the spark, that old Bucky shining through. "I never said nor implied that."
Steve shook his head. "Nah, it's all good. I can read between the lines."
"I've actually changed my mind. Get out," Bucky laughed, reaching to push at Steve playfully.
But Steve caught his hand.
"Bucky, I can't share a bed with you," Steve said immediately, no hint of the playfulness from only a second before. "I want to. Believe me, I want to." Steve licked his lips and then made a conscious decision to let go of Bucky’s hand. He stood up and walked quickly toward the door of Bucky’s new hut, the nice one Bucky'd built himself in the time he'd been living here.
Steve put a hand on the doorframe and turned to face Bucky who was now standing too, but had kept his distance.
"Bucky, I-" Steve motioned toward Bucky like he didn't know what else to do. "I'm in love with you. I am right now. I have been all this time. Have been since we were kids. Can't remember a time when I wasn't."
Bucky didn't even bat an eye. "I know."
Steve stopped. "You know?"
Bucky nodded and took a step closer, but Steve took one back.
"How could you know? You couldn't have remembered that. I never told you."
Bucky shook his head and looked at the floor beneath their feet. "I didn't at first. I just remembered how I felt. Probably triggered by what I feel toward you now. And then I paid attention to you."
"That obvious?"
"Less subtle than you think." Bucky smirked up at Steve and they were both quiet for a moment.
"Do you want me to leave or was that an invitation to stay?" Steve laughed nervously.
"If I wanted you to leave, I never would have told you exactly what you've wanted to hear since 1943."
"Oh, it long predates 1943." Steve caught himself saying and he felt a wave of relief wash over him. Just the idea that his most tightly held secret was known now to the only person it ever even mattered to made him feel lighter than he could remember feeling in years.
Bucky laughed gently. "Can't believe you were going to leave just because you were honest with me. Judge, jury, and executioner, huh?"
Steve grimaced.
"Let's not punish ourselves for crimes not committed. I just knew something had to change. I was afraid we were going to keep dancing around one another forever if I didn't say something. When you said, 'Brother,' I definitely thought we were destined to keep up this charade for eternity."
"We were like brothers," Steve argued. "When we were kids at least. Then when we grew up, there was a certain distance I wanted to put between us and the idea of brothers."
"So why not just be honest up front?" Bucky asked. He stepped closer again and this time, Steve didn't step away. "Think I scare that easily?"
Steve shrugged and looked a little sheepish. "You never know how someone'll react to that kind of confession. You're working on yourself right now. You don't need me here to mess it up."
"Being honest with you is working on myself." Bucky reached and took Steve's hand back, this time lacing their fingers before bringing the hands up between their chests. "And why wouldn't we take advantage of this? We can do this now and not have to hide it if anyone comes around. We can do this in the streets of New York."
"I can't be seen in the streets of New York right now," Steve said with a wry grin. "With you or anyone."
"Of course you can," Bucky said proudly and Steve's heart thrilled to see that confidence blossom through him. "I'm not supposed to be there either, but I dare anyone try to bully us now. It wouldn't be like the back alley fights they're used to. I think we could take them."
Steve laughed and found himself being tugged back into the hut by Bucky’s warm, rough hand.
"I think we've proven we haven't lost our spark, but I also think you're doing really well here."
Bucky led Steve back through the hanging blankets that separated the living space from the bedroom area and waited for Bucky to adjust the blankets so it was as if he had closed a door.
"I like it here," Bucky agreed. "It's nice. Just me and some goats and vegetables. I read a lot, watch the kids playing in the fields. We made kites together last week. Do you know the last time before that that I made a kite?"
Steve hazarded a guess. "1928?"
"Probably!" Bucky grinned, open-faced and comfortable. "It's so relaxed here. And the only thing that I can imagine making it even better is you."
Even Steve's eyes were smiling and it was Bucky's favorite thing in the entire world. "I never thought we would be more than friends. This is so unreal. You sure you don't just want someone here to cook for you every night?"
"Goddammit, you caught me."
Steve and Bucky laughed together and then both paused, this unsure air between them before Steve moved forward on the toes of his feet and Bucky leaned in to meet him.
The kiss was messy and awkward and they both laughed and adjusted and tried again, but they had time to get it right. They weren't worried.
As they fumbled through, Steve reached and took Bucky’s other hand. It was a little colder than he expected, but he found it made him smile. He'd been wondering what that metal felt like. And besides, he could always warm up a cold hand.