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James can’t remember much from his time before the fall, but, as his memories came back their anniversary was the first thing to stick.
From the moment he was first freed from Hydra he knew there was something special about June 20th, even though all he initially registered it as was the longest day of the year. As time passed and he remembered more he started taking the day to consider Joe, his Joseph, and all they were to each other. Barely coherent and uncertain what the emotions welling up in his stomach meant , who the person was that they referred to.
It took him until his second year on the run to remember Joseph’s face. His green eyes and dark brown curls, always styled to lay straight. To remember his laugh and that one of his front teeth was slightly chipped from an accident he had as a kid. He dreamed about the memory once, Joseph and him, curled around each other in Joe’s tiny apartment near the docks. The full moon slipping through a crack in the curtains as Joe whispered the story low in his ears.
“I was made out of sticks as a kid. Nearly seven and everyone kept asking me if I was five. I hated it,” he’d said with a chuckle. Laughter and fondness evident in his tone of voice.
“So obviously, when we went skating with the entire family I refused to take it easy. Didn’t want a chair or anything else to help me stay balanced, refused my parents’ and older brothers’ hands and stubbornly attempted to go my own way… Guess what happened?” He’d asked, playfully biting at James’ earlobe to get him to gasp.
“You got your skate caught in the ice and tipped right over, didn't cha?” James responded and Joseph’d pulled him in even closer, let his breath ghost over James’ neck before pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone.
“Guessed correctly Jem. Took a flying leap onto the ice and got caught on a little bit of tree-root sticking out near the edge. Was lucky to only chip a tooth instead of breaking any bones.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he whispers, “never went to learn how to skate after that. Seemed like a waste, or like I was inviting more bad luck even though I wasn't super unlucky the last time.”
“Well,” James’d said, turning around so he could press Joseph down into the mattress, “perhaps you’ve gotta try again. I’ve heard I’m a phenomenal teacher.” He’d finished with a wink, and a salacious smirk and even now James remembers the exact feeling he had later that night. Grasping onto Joseph’s shoulders in lust as he writhed underneath him.
Please God, may this never end .
A few months later America joined the war. They both got drafted at the same time but were part of different units. They used to write each other letters all the time.
James remembers Joseph’s cursive like it was yesterday. Remembers how he held a pen so delicately between rough fingers and wrote with particular care. As if every single curlicue might signal the end of the world. He remembers staying up after soul-crushing missions, just to see if he’d gotten any letters. Remembers writing his responses by candlelight in a corner of the barracks in the hope not to disturb anyone. He even remembers reading Joseph’s replies, thumbing over the letters every night till the paper wore thin and the ink started to smudge. Till he could recite them word for word.
My dearest, Jem
As always I hope this letter finds you at the frontlines calm and quaint, even in the depths of European winter .
He’d open and move into a detailed description of his days. From training drills to slow stakeouts. The imperceptible crawl towards the German forces and the fear that came with closing in on the front lines.
James can’t remember what he might’ve replied. Can’t remember if he even got the time to message Joe right after Azzano or if everything just went so quickly there was barely any time to let him know he was okay. That he was alive and still thinking about him at all times without fail.
James never got to tell him it was his face, appearing like that of an angel, that kept him grounded during the coldest nights of experimentation. That, along with his serial number and name, that was all he thought about to remain sane.
Sadly enough they slipped through the cracks. Now all he’s got left is a tombstone and the fleeting memories of a different life in which a time without war was everything on his mind and he thought innocence would remain as long as he had his lover’s arms to return to.
He’d thought about Joseph less for a while. So overwhelmed by everything that happened with the Accords and after that, the only times he was calm enough to think of him was in fleeting dreams, right before they’d devolve into nightmares. He’d had a stray thought, right before he went into cryo, that it’d be the closest to death he’d be in seventy years. Maybe he could live his dream in the afterlife. It was wishful thinking, of course. Brought on by the realisation that although Steve might’ve been the man to find him and he looked quite similar to the guy the super-soldier serum turned him into during the war, his actions didn’t reflect that guy anymore. The world felt hostile. Steve was unfamiliar territory and with every waking day the guilt crept up on him. It was nearly impossible to rest with the darkness just at the edge of his vision. Ready to swallow him whole if he ever truly forgot about it.
He looks back at those times with a strange amusement nowadays, because even then he’d been peripherally thinking about penance, about Tony and making up for all the things he’d done, even as he wanted to leave it all behind.
If he’d told himself from all those months ago that he’d spend his months after coming out of cryo in the Avengers’ Compound, slowly falling head over heels with Tony Stark he’d never have believed him. Yet here James was anyway, an early riser, staring out at the sunrise with Tony still in his arms, contemplating the first love of his life.
June 20th always managed to sneak up on him when he least expected it.
It’s maybe ninety minutes later when Tony slowly starts to stir, grasping at James’ body till he finds his hands and squeezing them both tightly before blinking one eye open.
“Morning,” he croaks and James smiles down at him, kissing the tip of his nose before whispering a soft “G’morning” back.
Fantasies of domestic bliss used to occupy much of his and Joseph’s time, they imagined they might find a small place in a different part of the city and they’d just be the two guys living together and helping people out. They imagined decorating the place with carefully cobbled together furniture. Joseph used to tell him about his college plans, how he wanted to try his hand at being a doctor because his mother was a nurse, and James used to talk about opening his own shop. Working on people’s cars and appliances and making ends meet that way. They imagined that, maybe, with a little bit of luck, they could take in a stray kid or two, make their family complete. But that’s all they could do. Dream.
Nowadays James is the closest to making those pipe dreams come true as he’s ever been and he’s planning on taking full advantage of the future and all the luxuries it provides.
He leans down to kiss Tony again, on the lips this time, and when one of Tony’s hands slips into his hair what’s meant to be a short peck turns into long early morning kisses. Culminating in the two of them smiling against each other’s lips.
“I’m gonna get coffee started,” he whispers into Tony’s hair and although the whine his boyfriend lets out when James slips out of the bed is downright pitiful, he knows the happy noise Tony will make when he can hold his first cup of coffee of the day will more than make up for it.
It’s a slow morning, as many of theirs are nowadays. They’ve been dating for over six months and established a routine, both comfortable in the other’s space. They’ve still got their separate rooms in the Compound but there are touches of the other all over their space. It means that when James puts on the coffee machine, there’s a selection of his favourite teas in the cupboard right above it. That when he gets their drinks ready one of his favourite mugs is placed right next to Tony’s and the sugar and milk are within easy reach.
It means that after they spend another hour, snuggled together in bed, sipping from their warm beverages they don’t have to go to separate rooms to shower because James has a toothbrush and his assorted hair and skin products stocked right next to Tony’s. His towel hanging next to Tony’s and his clothes with their own compartment in Tony’s closet.
He’s amazed by it still, even though mornings like these are becoming par for the course. It’s just that, after Hydra, he found domesticity difficult to imagine. He remembered it, sure. Remembered what the few stolen mornings between him and Joseph were like, the stolen evenings and sometimes, if they were particularly lucky, the stolen days. But all of that was Before. He’d still been Bucky Barnes then, untainted by war and Hydra. Untainted by the freezer-burn of cold that settles in through your skin and clings to your bones. He’d been a different person, so far removed from everything he currently experienced that he could barely imagine a reality resembling anything akin to domestic bliss when he felt that on most days he was Winter through and through.
Tony’s been the common denominator in thawing him out, both literally and metaphorically. It’s difficult to remain cold under those warm brown eyes. Difficult to feel unworthy or uncared for with the way Tony listens, and attempts to comfort him in his own way. Through quips and quick jokes, with his favourite takeout order or tickets for a baseball game. Even now he’s still perplexed by how easy it was to fall head over heels for Tony Stark when all the odds were against them.
They shower together. Comfortable to lather the other up and wash each other’s hair. There’s an undercurrent of arousal but it’s not pressing, simply a side effect of being naked and slick together with the love of your life. That too, is something Tony’s helping him rediscover. Comfort with his body in moments like this.
It’s not the nudity that had upset him at first, but rather the intimacy associated with it. The vulnerability that comes with baring yourself for someone, be it in the bedroom or just casually when there’s no goal in mind.
He’d been upset by his scars at first, by the irritated and torn skin left behind by his metal arm, the thick strips of scar tissue running over his entire body. They felt like reminders of what he used to be. Reminders of the Soldier, of Hydra, that would always have their inescapable hold on him. Marks that would forever mark him as theirs , if not in mind than at least bodily.
It’d taken so long to come to terms with those feelings too. To see them for the distortions that they were and to recognize his body as belonging to himself and not his latest Hydra handler who saw his suffering as an extension of their pleasure. And, as is becoming increasingly apparent to James, Tony had been there to help him with that too.
Always less than a call away, right next to him to hold his hand.
James kisses him behind the ears now. Skin wet and warm from the shower water and relishes in the way Tony leans against him.
“I love you,” he whispers and he’s just as giddy as the very first time when Tony whispers it back.
Once they’re out of the shower and dressed their slow morning continues. Tony tells him to take a seat at the kitchen table as he gets all the ingredients for pancakes and when James goes to protest Tony firmly shakes his head.
“You’re upset about something,” is all Tony says, “and I’m not gonna force you to talk to me about it, but until you’ve figured yourself out I’m going to coddle you to the best of my abilities.”
James has to kiss after that. Slow and sweet enough to leave the both of them breathless.
After that, he takes his seat at the kitchen table without any fuss. He uses the opportunity to study Tony. Study the way he carefully measures out his ingredients and grabs a bunch of blueberries and chocolate chips to add to the pancakes once they’re baking. It’s such a simple thing, the morning light filtering in through the large windows and illuminating Tony’s sides and back, the smell of pancakes permeating the air. The quiet, a life removed from the Rogue Avengers, and every other responsibility the two of them might have.
At once James wishes Joseph might be here to see this. Just to know that things get good for James after all. He shakes the thought away and gets up to grab some plates, glasses, and cutlery. He normally doesn’t dwell, but in the previous few years in which he managed to remember Joe, he didn’t have any other romantic relationship to compare it to. All he had was a gaping maw swallowing his insides that told him he would never be that content again.
He suppresses the thoughts when Tony comes to join him for breakfast, promising he’ll allow himself to wallow later when he goes to visit Joseph’s grave.
He and Tony eat in comfortable silence, their chairs pressed so close together they can continue to snuggle as they eat, and James plants a few soft kisses on Tony’s slightly parted lips as a thank you for making breakfast.
Tony smiles and says, “if this is my reward, I’ll cook for you more often. I can’t wait to see what happens when I pull out my extensive pasta-making skills and wow you with some authentic Italian cuisine.”
James hums, low in the back of his throat.
“We’ll see,” he says but his tone is full of promise.
With breakfast finished Tony makes his way down to his workshop and James takes some time for himself.
He goes to his own room and tells JARVIS to pull up the photos of Joseph he’s managed to scavenge after searching for hours with Tony’s help.
There are a lot of pictures of him during the war, most of them on the website of his dance hall. Jamie’s for his younger brother Benjamin who passed when they were young, according to the website, but James knows it’s for him too. Calling it Jem’s would have been a little too obvious though. Joseph hadn’t known any Jameses beyond him nor any Jeremies or Jeremiahs.
There are a few pictures of him in the dance hall itself too. Joe dressed to the nines in slacks and a well-fitted shirt, his curls loose for all the world to see, and a smile on his face. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes in James’ opinion, the tension around them slightly too haunted and the bags underneath them speaking of very little sleep.
James knows he fell off the train in 1944 but the news probably wouldn’t have reached Joseph until a little while after the war or perhaps after Steve sunk the Valkyrie into the ocean and the myth of Captain America and his right-hand man Bucky Barnes came into existence.
With the dance hall opening soon after the end of the war, it’s not too far-fetched to assume Joseph only learned of his death a few months ago.
It’s a shame that neither of them ever got true closure but at least James has some confirmation that Joe found something fulfilling to do with the rest of his life. He doesn’t want to overstate his importance but they’d been dating for nearly two years before the war started and back in the day if you found someone you loved and they loved you back, and you were compatible, you stuck together because not everyone got that lucky.
James isn’t quite sure how long he lays there. Staring at the ceiling and slipping into memories.
It’s halfway between floating and falling. James is drifting through his memories of Joseph like a feather. All the instances fleeting but soft, his fall continuously cushioned.
He remembers spending their birthdays together for the first time. The singular cupcake James had managed to make by saving up for months and calling in some favours. The way Joseph had returned the favour by scavenging for charcoal and other art supplies because, “you never tell me about what you might want but you talk about Stevie all the time. I figured if I helped him out you’d be happy either way.”
He remembers how they used to sleep together. How safe he used to feel in Joseph’s arms. Cherished and loved. Joseph was the only person, back in the day, who didn’t expect anything from James but for him to be himself. Who didn’t care about James’s performance of masculinity or if he did or didn’t walk right, talk right, and do what was expected of him.
The two of them together could simply be and it was a reprieve James wouldn’t have traded for the world. He’d loved nothing more than being called “Jem” when Joseph did it, loved nothing more than knowing he was special, that Joseph would never call anyone else but him that. That the two of them together were Jem and Joe, James and Joseph till death do them part (even if the law would have never acknowledged it).
The intensity of his feelings for Joseph is still present in the back of his mind and their anniversary always brings it to the foreground but he’s not still in love with Joseph. He loves him, will always love him in the way you’ll always love your first love but he’s got Tony now.
Tony who he’s in love with and who’s in love with him. Tony who pretends to be flippant and uncaring but does everything in his power to make the people he cares about comfortable. He’s always looked out for James, been gentle with him when those around him only saw the Soldier. He’s always been gentle during arm maintenance, when they cuddle, when they hold hands, with his random affectionate gestures, the way he might brush his fingers along James’ shoulder or press a quick kiss to his jaw.
Tony has put in the effort and time to make him feel safe, to make all of him feel safe and James loves him even more for it.
A few hours later James is brought out of his reminiscing by JARVIS.
“Sergeant Barnes,” he says, slightly quieter than his normal volume so as to not startle James too badly, “Sir is wondering if you’re feeling a bit better and would be willing to sit with him.”
James hums, sitting up as if he’s coming out of a trance. The sun is so low in the sky it touches the treetops outside his window and James is surprised he’d become so completely untethered from the passage of time.
“Yeah,” he croaks, voice hoarse from disuse, “tell him to come to my room.”
There’s a slightly awkward silence that follows when Tony first enters James’ room. They simply stare at one another, unsure where their boundaries are at that moment.
It’s not as if they’re unused to comforting one another in stressful situations but it’s rather that even with their time together it’s still sometimes unclear what the other might need in those moments.
Tony’s staying near the door to let James lead and James, splayed out on his bed, takes a moment to think about what he wants.
A few more seconds pass and James shifts, opening his arms and whispering, “Come lay with me,” to give Tony the verbal permission he needs.
Tony initially approaches the bed slowly, but as it becomes clear that James isn’t going to change his mind he speeds up. Climbing onto the bed before slowly lowering himself onto James’ chest. His ear right over James’ heart.
James wraps his arms around him and squeezes slowly, relishing in Tony’s warm weight on top of him, the familiarity of his form within James’ arms.
“I missed you today,” Tony mumbles into his chest. His tone is halfway between joking and serious. His way of saying he was worried without putting James on the spot. James pulls him in closer and presses a kiss to the top of Tony’s head. It takes him a few moments to figure out what it is that he wants to say, what it is that he needs to say to lift the weight of his memories.
There’s a fine line he’s walking. James misses Joseph and no longer does at once. He wishes Joseph was still alive and has made peace with his passing. James wishes they’d had the chance to play out their fantasy of living a normal and long life together, yet he’s beyond ecstatic with what he and Tony have now.
“It’s difficult.” Is the first thing he manages to say, voice no more than a whisper, a low rumble in his chest.
“It’s our anniversary today,” he says, staring straight up at the ceiling. “Mine and Joseph’s.”
Tony, who’d been tapping one of his fingers against the side of the bed, stills and then goes rigid.
“Oh,” he says, his tone one James can’t quite put a finger on.
“I remembered the date, sort of, when I was on the run but I never quite knew its significance. Not fully until recently, and with remembering that other things slowly started coming back to me too.”
Tony takes a deep breath, shifts a little so his body covers as much of James as it can.
“Tell me about him,” Tony says, tone encouraging, and James can feel the corners of his mouth lift up in a smile against his chest. It’s the final comfort he needs to let the dam break.
“We had all of these plans and things we’d whisper about in the middle of the night. I’d tell Steve that I’d be sleeping over at a friend’s house for work and instead I’d spend my nights with him. We daydreamed about the life we might live, about having kids and being that one old couple of dudes that every queer community has. The one the rest of the world might write off as close friends who never found their one when they were really already content with one another.” He sighs and takes a few moments trying to find his words.
“We were each other’s worlds, y’know. Before the war and during. Sending letters to him was the thing that made me feel most at home. Steve never knew, and with how he is now I wouldn’t even want to tell him, but I’ve wanted to talk about Joseph all day,” James says, his voice trailing off as he nears the end of his sentence. Tony presses a kiss to the underside of James’ jaw.
“I’m here to listen, for as long as you want me to,” Tony says, voice low but steady. Comforting. A little bit of calm amidst the storm of James’ memories.
“He would’ve loved you, y’know?” he says, voice cracking on the past tense. “Not just because he was into mouthy brunettes with a head for mechanics,” he continues, drawing a soft chuckle from Tony.
“I mean, it would’ve helped,” James says with a chuckle, “but he would’ve liked you for other reasons too.”
“Yeah?” Tony asks, smile audible in his voice, “Which ones?”
James laughs and takes in a shuddering breath his vision clouding over with tears.
“He would’ve liked your efficiency, the fact that you make promises and try your best to keep them. You’re reliable and always know your way out of tough situations. He would’ve liked that you don’t fall into despair easily—Joe used to worry about the smallest things and it got worse as the war went on.” He pulls Tony up higher till his head’s resting in the crook of James’s neck instead of on his chest, his warm breaths caressing the side of his neck.
“He—” his voice breaks and a sob wracks through his body. Tony opens his mouth to placate him but James shakes his head. He needs to say this.
“He would’ve liked how opinionated you are about fashion. He was always looking at the fancy magazines in stores even if he never had the money to buy them and he used to get all exasperated and fussy when he asked me which shirt I liked better and I just told him they looked the exact same to me. He would’ve liked your singing voice and the way you can play any song after hearing it once. He would’ve—Fuck.” He takes one deep shuddering breath after another, desperate to keep himself together for just a little bit longer, just a little longer.
“Missing him is nothing to be ashamed of, you know that, right Jamie?” Tony asks, rubbing soothing circles into his chest. As the words register James starts trembling all over, tears clouding his vision and slipping down his cheeks uncontrollably.
“You thought you were going to have a life together, that it would be the two of you against the world after the war and it never happened and now you have to accept that he’s not around anymore. It’s fine to grieve for someone even if it’s been a while. You don’t have to hurt yourself by reminiscing, to prove to anyone that what the two of you had was real. It was real . You know it, I know it and Joseph knew it too,” Tony finishes, his voice impassioned but kind, like a soothing balm to all of James’ aches.
“Who knew you’d be the least emotionally stunted out of the two of us,” James says, attempting a joking tone but his voice is still too rough with tears for it to truly lighten the mood.
“I’m a man of many talents,” Tony responds and presses another kiss to James’ jaw. He wipes the tears from his eyes and presses another kiss to his cheek. James’ breathing evens out.
They move around till James’ head is cradled against Tony’s chest, his ear over Tony’s steadily beating heart. The covers a protective layer between them and the rest of the world.
The last thing he remembers before he falls into an exhausted sleep is Tony’s comforting voice saying, “Get some rest, we’ll go for a visit when you wake up.”