Archive of Our Own

Bucky knew as soon as he woke that something wasn't right. He rolled smoothly off the bed, clipped his head on the nightstand, and fell flat on his face on the rug that wasn't his in a shaft of sunlight that definitely should not have been there.

He had a moment of mindless, all-consuming panic. He didn't know who he was, where he was, or what he was supposed to do. Defend yourself. His hand shot under the bed, searching for something, anything he could use. All he found was a heavy wooden bat, a clear shoebox that rattled when he knocked it out of the way, and a balled-up dirty sock. He wrapped his fingers around the bat.

The bedroom door burst open in a shower of splinters. A familiar voice shouted, "Bucky!"

Bucky poked his head around the end of the bed, still flat on the floor, and saw himself.

He came up swinging.

"Who the hell are you?"

But he kept going another two or three inches more than he should have when he stood up. All his power seemed to be in his shoulders and back and arms, and not in the way he was used to with the bionic arm. He swung the bat at Not-Himself, but he went too far and the bat glanced off the shield.

Steve's shield. The one Not-Himself had picked up from against the wall and was ducking under like he was some kind of freakish two-legged turtle. Hell no. Strangers with his face did not get to touch Steve's shield. Bucky dropped the bat and went at Not-Himself with his bare hands.

His bare human hands.

Mid-lunge, he looked down at himself and realized that he wasn't himself, either.

"What the hell?" He forgot what he was doing and, like the bat, glanced off the shield. He caught himself with his palms on the rug and rolled to his back, ready to spring back up if he had to.

Not-Himself dropped the shield and looked at him with his own wide eyes. "Bucky?"

"Yes, Bucky."

Not-Himself was visibly relieved. "Good."

"Good? How is this good?" He looked down at himself. "Am I Steve?"

"Yes, and Steve is you, and this is good because it means at least we don't have to find anyone else. Whatever happened just happened to us."

Bucky blinked at Not-Himself. If anyone else had to be in control of his body, at least it was Steve. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than the alternatives. He closed his eyes and thunked his head back. Who could have done this?

"Wanda."

"Wanda? What?"

"I bet," Bucky said, "it was your little witch friend."

"That's still not funny. Wanda wouldn't do this. Why would she do this?"

"Well, who else would have done this?"

"Loki," Steve said immediately. "Dr. Strange. A magic star we made a wish on last night. I don't fucking know." He leaned over and offered Bucky his hand. He pulled him up from the floor. "We need to go in."

"No shit." Bucky took a good long look at himself. At Steve in his body. It was... weird. It wasn't a mirror reflection. Not-Himself didn't move when he did, and he knew his expression didn't match his body's. He closed his eyes again and sighed. "Remember when the worst we had to deal with was a flesh wound 'cause Jacques got a little too excited and blew a building too soon? I miss those days."

"You can reminisce about the worst war in history later." Steve crossed the room and opened the top drawer of his dresser. "That body takes some getting used to, and you're going to want these." He tossed underthings at him, tight shorts and an undershirt made of light, cool material.

Bucky caught them and held them up. They didn't offer much give, he guessed, based on the shape of them. He snorted. "You've got special underwear? You're not special enough, Captain America, you need special underwear?"

Steve just looked at him, expression firm and unhappy. "Just trust me."

***

Once the adrenaline wore off, he was still hot. Burning up from the inside out, from his toes to his fingers to his hairline. His entire body was way too sensitive, like being stuck permanently in the best part of sex, when she could look at him just right and make his dick twitch. He tried the hot shower first, but that just made things worse, and so he turned it as cold as he could stand and hurried through washing his--Steve's--hair and soaping up. Even that led to... It was awkward, staring down Steve's soapy body at Steve's erection. Bucky put a hand out and braced himself against the tile, closed his eyes, and breathed. He counted to fifty, then kept his eyes closed and let the water rinse away the shampoo and soap.

Getting dressed was an ordeal. Everything seemed worse than the shower, than washing himself. Just drying off seemed to set his blood thrumming, putting on Steve's underwear made him groan out loud and curl his toes in the rug. He nearly fell over when he pulled on Steve's jeans and they scraped over a spot on the back of his knee. Bucky had to sit down then. He scrubbed his hands through Steve's hair and that was a mistake, too, because his fingers grazed the skin behind Steve's ear and the dip at the base of his skull and if it weren't for the shorts, he probably would have come in his pants.

He scrambled into the hall and stomped toward his bedroom. "I think you got sex pollen-ed!"

Steve stepped out of Bucky's room, looking mournful. He was going to give Bucky's face wrinkles. And Steve had put him together entirely too well, his clothes were not supposed to look that tidy. He went with fashionably disheveled on his way into work, didn't Steve know that?

"It's not sex pollen."

Bucky blinked. "What?"

Steve didn't say anything.

Bucky sighed. "How can you live like this?"

"You get used to it." Steve moved closer and put the metal hand on Bucky's shoulder. That... helped. It was less distressing than a bare hand, at least, and Bucky wouldn't admit it out loud but he missed his own arms, even his bionic one. "I can't leave the house looking like that," Steve said.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I can't leave the house looking like that . Did you even try?"

Steve smiled his own smile. Bucky watched it on his own face and felt like he needed to sit down.

"Come on," Steve said. "We'll start with your clothes."

Bucky followed Steve into the guest room he still thought of as his own, despite the fact that he'd moved out months before. He still crashed at Steve's the night before they went back to HQ because it was easier that way, and because Bucky didn't need a flying car outside of his own building, thanks. He sat down on the edge of the rumpled bed and realized he was shaking a little.

He felt wrong. Just, every inch of him, wrong. The shaking was unfamiliar, the body was unfamiliar, some of the thoughts and feelings zipping around inside of him were unfamiliar. He was starting to suspect he wasn't fully inhabiting the body alone and wondered if he'd even know which parts were Steve. He braced his hands--so strange, all the feeling coming in front his left hand, his left arm, stronger than any of his memories, stronger than any of the ghost sensations--on his thighs above his knees and leaned forward.

Even sitting, Steve was pretty far from the ground.

"Let's," he started, thinking about what to have Steve wear, and he flashed on the memory of his naked body in a mirror and had to pause. He had to breathe. He knew he was good-looking, but this was getting ridiculous. "Let's just stick with the basics today."

Steve looked down at Bucky's dark jeans and the sloppy t-shirt Bucky had packed to wear in the gym. "Is it that bad?"

"No worse than usual," Bucky quipped.

He had no idea his own face could make Steve's sternly disapproving expression.

Bucky winced. "You gotta stop making your faces, you'll give me wrinkles."

Steve blinked at him. "Wrinkles."

"Yes, wrinkles , not all of us actually want to look like we're ninety-nine years old."

Steve muffled a snort. He shook his head, then stripped the shirt off. "Fine." He tossed the shirt to the bed beside Bucky. "Can I at least keep the jeans?"

The thought of Steve taking his pants off made Bucky gasp. He pressed the heel of his palm to his crotch to quell the sudden erection. Steve was on a hair trigger, damn. Bucky had gone hot all over just looking at his own chest and thinking about getting to look at his own ass.

"Jesus Christ."

"Bucky," Steve snapped.

Bucky blinked at Steve and tried to keep his eyes above his neck. "When was the last time you got laid?"

"Focus. Can I keep the jeans?"

But Bucky couldn't focus, not with the shape of his own lips and the line of his own jaw, and he'd never seen himself, certainly never looked at another guy, like this. "You got something you want to tell me?" he murmured.

He hadn't known...

"Yeah, stop touching my Johnson."

Bucky yanked his hand away from Steve's crotch like he'd been burned. "I think it's feeling neglected, buddy."

Steve just looked at him.

"Well, it is," Bucky muttered. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at himself anymore. "There's a gray shirt with some buttons up near the collar in my bag. Get that. And the boots I wore last night, no sneakers."

"How can you even move in these pants?" Steve grunted. "They're so tight."

"They make my ass look good."

Steve groaned.

Bucky kept his head down and his eyes closed so he didn't have to watch Steve put the shirt on or bend over to pull on the boots. He had a whole new appreciation for the shorts Steve had given him. Bucky flopped back on his own bed, splayed his legs to relieve some of the pressure, and threw an arm over his eyes. It didn't do as much good as he'd hoped. He could still smell himself in the sheets.

Why hadn't Steve made the bed?

"Steve, how long has it been like this?"

The bed shook a little, Steve sitting down on the opposite side. "The serum enhanced all my senses," he said quietly.

"So, since 1943? And you just live like this?"

Steve didn't say anything.

"Does anything even help?" Steve didn't spend all his free time jerking off, Bucky knew, so he had to do something .

Steve stood up. "What do you want me to do about your hair?"

With a sigh, Bucky sat up and looked at Steve. So he wasn't going to talk about it. Hey, he wouldn't push. Yet. Steve looked better, but it still wasn't right, and Bucky suspected that even when they fixed his hair and put the glove on him, it still wouldn't be right.

"Take it out of that girl ponytail you have. I can't believe you remembered how to do that. It's been eighty years since you even did Amelia's hair."

"I was the only one she'd let do it, why wouldn't I remember?" Steve yanked the elastic out and ran a hand through his hair.

Bucky's heart clenched. He missed his sisters. His mom and dad, too, but his sisters were supposed to outlive him. They were younger. He cleared his throat. "Shake it out a little and then do the bun thing Natasha likes

Steve went over to the mirror behind the closet door, shooting Bucky a look from the corner of his eye. "How would I know how to do the bun thing?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Don't. Don't pretend you two don't stay up all night eating whole fried chickens and family-size orders of mashed potatoes each and watching Netflix and doing each others' hair."

" I do her hair." Steve put Bucky's hair up in a loose, messy bun that kept his hair out of his eyes and off his neck but didn't look too polished. "It's nice," he added, mumbling. "It's not--"

"I don't care what it is." He eyed himself critically. "All right. The glove is in the pocket of the jacket on the hook in the hall, I think this is the best you can do." He stood up, and it was weird again, seeing the room from Steve's vantage point. Who knew a few inches would make such a big difference? "Come on. Come show me what to wear so we can go in. I don't want to wait for the car. I can't live in your body longer than I have to."

***

Fury sat back in his chair, looked between Steve and Bucky with an expression that clearly said no one paid him enough to deal with this, and sighed. "What the hell am I supposed to do about it?"

"What--?" Bucky sputtered. That was not the reaction he wanted. "You're in charge!"

"Not of magic I'm not!" Fury held his hands up. "Aliens, gods, science experiments, HYDRA weapons, my own best friend stabbing me in the back, fine. Magic? Magic is not my department. I have people for that."

"People? Who?"

"Wanda. She was supposed to be working on new... whatever it is she does. Last night." Fury eyed Steve. "Don't think I haven't heard the buzz, Captain."

Steve managed to stay remarkably stoic. "I don't know what you're talking about, sir."

Fury scoffed. He kicked the floor to turn his chair around and face the big windows that overlooked the parade grounds, where teams of new recruits were jogging. "Of course you don't, Cap. Go see Wanda. If she can't help..."

"Yeah." Steve stood up. "Go outside and yell at the sky until Thor comes back."

Bucky stood up, too. He smirked. "Is that really how you call Thor?"

"There are no phones on Asgard, Barnes."

He supposed there weren't, but the mental image of Steve standing out on the lawn shouting at the sky until a Norse god dropped out of it was enough to make him hope it was Loki. He followed Steve out of Fury's office and waited for the door to close behind them.

"So that's it? 'Not my department, go see the witch.' That's it? Some boss."

"Fury has his uses."

"Are they that he's even better at being a grumpy old man than you are? Because I don't think we actually need him if that's the case."

"You're older than me," Steve said, as if Bucky needed the reminder.

"And I'm half the grumpy grandpa you are." Bucky ran a hand through his hair--Steve's hair. He shivered, the sensation of it shooting straight down his spine to pool hot in his belly. No wonder Steve tried so hard not to fidget. "So, what's the buzz Fury mentioned?"

"What?"

"Steve."

"What? I don't know what he's talking about."

Even in someone else's body, Steve was a terrible liar. Bucky grinned.

"You might be able to lie to Daddy Eyepatch, but not to me, buddy."

Steve sighed quietly. His gaze darted up and down the hall, but they were alone. Fury's hall was almost always empty.

"Wanda's a young lady," Steve said haltingly.

Bucky's eyebrows went up. "Do you want us to change your name to Captain Obvious? Because I have to say, that's not nearly as inspiring as Captain America."

Watching himself fidget, listening to himself make Steve's sounds of social distress--it was surreal. If there had been somewhere to sit down, Bucky probably would have.

Steve ran his hand over Bucky's hair and sighed again. "Wanda has a crush. On... me."

Bucky frowned. "So?"

"So?" Steve looked pained.

Of course he did.

"So?" Bucky repeated. "Probably 90% of the people working here have crushes on you. What's special about Wanda?"

Steve stared blankly at him. "Ninety percent."

Bucky shrugged. "It's an estimate," he admitted. "I bet the number's actually closer to 94%. I can talk to Maria, we can crunch some numbers if you'd like."

Steve ran Bucky's gloved hand over his face, pulling at skin and stubble.

"You think the girl Peggy shot you over was a one-time thing?"

"I don't know. I don't need to know." Steve huffed. "Wanda's crush has become kind of a problem. She's very young."

Bucky clenched his jaw. "She's old enough to know what she wants," he said, because if Wanda was old enough to volunteer for scientific experimentation and old enough to join the Avengers, she was old enough to have a crush, and Steve could stop being a dick about it right fucking now.

Steve gave him another pained look. "It's difficult."

"Because it's not mutual."

He nodded. "She's a nice girl, but--"

Bucky shrugged. "But not your type." She wasn't as likely to shoot or punch him as jump his bones. Steve had a very specific type. Bucky had accepted that it wasn't his fault all those double dates had gone so bad--Steve just wasn't good at nice girls. "It happens. What's the problem?""

"It's awkward, Buck."

Of course it was. But he still didn't see why Steve was so bothered by it. Being a green captain in the middle of the European theater was awkward. Hiding in brothels was awkward. His idea of "meet cute" was awkward. Bucky scratched a hand through his--Steve's--hair just to distract himself with the shuddery feeling. "I can't have this conversation anymore. Come on. Let's go find her and see if she can fix this."

***

They found her in the mess, having breakfast with Natasha and Sam. She looked small and pale and very tired, the dark smudges under her eyes like bruises. She picked listlessly at her food, but she mustered up a smile at something Nat said.

When Steve and Bucky approached and the three of them looked up, Wanda's face paled further. She seemed to shrink in on herself.

"Oh, no," she said.

Natasha twisted around to look up at them. Her genuine smile fell--and was immediately replaced by the one that made the hair on the back of Bucky's neck stand up. Natasha was about to have a good time at someone's expense.

It was probably going to be theirs.

"Oh, this is interesting."

"We need to talk," Steve said to Wanda with Bucky's voice, ignoring Natasha.

Unwise, Bucky thought, but Steve was prioritizing. He couldn't blame him. He kept his eye on Natasha, anyway.

Wanda hunched her shoulders and looked down at her food. "Yes, I think we do."

Beside Nat, Sam looked at each of them in turn, then said to the table, "Is there something I don't get?"

Natasha's smirk twisted just a little more, real amusement dancing in her eyes. She laid a hand on the back of Sam's neck and leaned in close. "Come on, flyboy. You're not going to want to miss this."

"We don't need an audience, Natasha." Steve shot her a dark look.

Natasha was completely unfazed by Steve's dark moods. She smiled sweetly at him. "I know, Cap, but you're getting one, anyway."

***

Wanda looked even smaller in the massive chair at the enormous table in the empty conference room. She slouched as low as she could, curled in on herself in a way that reminded Bucky a lot of Steve from before, and she stared down at her hands in her lap. Nat and Sam lingered near the door, backs to the wall. Steve didn't sit down, so Bucky did; the girl looked like she wanted to disappear.

Bucky didn't think scaring her would help their situation.

"Well?" Steve demanded.

"I thought it would be useful," Wanda said. "To be able to put the mind and skills in another body."

"And you didn't think to tell us?"

Steve could be very touchy about that, especially with his new team. He liked transparency. He liked for the right hand to know what the left was up to.

He was a terrible spy.

"I didn't think it would work!" Wand scowled at Steve in Bucky's body. "I would have told you when I was ready to try it for real."

Steve glanced over his shoulder at Natasha, mouth firm and jaw set. "You see, this? This is what I mean. This is why we need to communicate."

Natasha shook her head. "You're preaching to the choir, Cap. I didn't know."

Steve's gaze slid to Sam.

Sam immediately put his hands up, by now used to Steve's fits. "Hey, no. You know me, I tell you everything."

Natasha's startled look had him shifting his weight, putting distance between them.

"I mean," he stumbled, "not, you know, everything --obviously--but-- This, this I definitely would have mentioned."

Bucky laughed. He couldn't help it. He kind of felt bad for Sam, caught between Steve and Natasha like that.

"This isn't funny, Bucky," Steve snapped, glaring at him.

No, what wasn't funny was the fact that Bucky could smell everyone in the room, so strong he could practically taste them. Wanda, nearest to him, smelling of lotion and makeup and exhaustion. The sweat on the back of Natasha's neck and the clean, bland smell of her shampoo. He could smell his own body wash on Steve. He could smell the cologne Natasha liked on Sam. What wasn't funny was the little details that caught his eye--the hollow of Wanda's throat, the curve of Natasha's breasts against her shirt, the stubble along his jaw, the veins in Sam's arms--and made him wonder what it would be like if he could have just a taste. No. What Bucky was dealing with wasn't funny.

Wanda accidentally swapping their consciousnesses because she wanted to give the team a new weapon? That was kind of funny.

Steve glaring and scowling and snapping at everyone? That was funny as hell.

Bucky turned to Wanda. "Can you fix it?"

Wanda glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. He saw the slight color rise on her cheeks before she looked back down. "I can. I will. It may take some time."

Steve beat him to it. "How long?"

"I'm not sure what worked," Wanda admitted, "so I'm not sure what will reverse it."

Steve hissed under his breath. "How long did you work last night?"

"Is this when it happened?" Wanda looked hopefully at Bucky.

"We woke up like this," he confirmed.

"The curse of the early bedtime strikes again," Natasha murmured.

Steve shot her a glare. "So help me, Romanoff..."

Natasha ignored Steve. "Can we help, Wanda?"

"There is video," she said. "I didn't not keep notes, but there are recordings. Time-stamped."

"How soon can you fix this?" Steve wanted to know.

"I worked with a lot of magic last night," Wanda said. "The best I can do is narrow it down between when you went to sleep and when you woke." She looked hopefully at Bucky.

"Midnight for me," he said. "A little earlier for Steve."

"I quit at four," she murmured. "That's not so bad."

"How long will it take?" Steve wanted to know.

Wanda just gave him a mournful look.

"All right," Steve said. "At least a day, maybe more." He sighed and rolled his shoulders. "Just fix this, Wanda. Fast." He looked at Bucky. "Meet me in the gym. We need to train." He looked one last time around the room, then left.

"What crawled up his ass?" Sam wondered out loud once Steve was gone, glass rattling in the door.

Bucky smacked his forehead. "I knew I forgot to take something out last night!"

Sam's eyes went wide. "Man, I did not need to know that." He looked mildly horrified.

Natasha laughed a little and bumped her shoulder into his. "Maybe he can give you some pointers."

Sam just looked at her.

Bucky steeled his nerves and leaned over to Wanda so he could squeeze her shoulder gently. "Don't let him get to you, kid. Just do your best. We know you'll fix it." With that, he stood up, a quiet surprised sigh when he kept going. He wasn't going to get used to being this much bigger.

And he thought Steve had been shock enough there in Zola's lab.

"Cap's orders. I guess I gotta to wipe the floor with him."

"Avoid ops," Natasha said mildly. "Sharon's shift is almost over and she likes to head out to the range for an hour after. Steve probably wants to keep this a secret, Avengers only."

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her. He wondered who she was looking out for, him or Sharon. Probably Sharon, he decided. "When is Sharon going to join us, anyway?"

"When Maria does."

So, never. Well, fair enough. Bucky glanced at Wanda one more time. "Keep us updated?"

She nodded. The poor kid looked miserable. He understood why she'd done what she'd done, and he wasn't as angry as Steve was. He just wished she'd warned them.

"See you all later."

***

Natasha was wrong. Sharon's shift was already over, and she was not headed up and out to the outdoor firing range, she was headed down to the indoor firing range. The one on the floor right below the gym Steve liked the best.

Bucky was all alone in the elevator when it stopped on the quarters level and Sharon got on.

As soon as the doors closed, he regretted not taking the stairs. She smelled like heaven. Like... everything Bucky liked best about girls. He should have taken the stairs. Sharon stood close, not as close as he wished she would but close enough he could run his fingers from her elbow to her wrist if he wanted, and he wanted. In his own body, Sharon didn't get to him like this. But the one he was in? It really, really wanted her.

Bucky started to wonder how much of Steve was still left. If maybe part of his consciousness had taken a backseat to Bucky.

He wondered if there was any of him left in his own body.

Then Sharon cut her eyes at him and she smiled and Bucky's brain tripped over itself and fell down those stairs he should have taken. Sharon was pretty--more than pretty, really--but when she smiled she looked an awful lot like Peg, and with all the want coursing through him, well, Bucky suddenly understood why Steve was so bad at girls.

"Are we still on for Saturday?" she asked.

"Yes," Bucky said, because Steve hadn't mentioned weekend plans to him but it didn't matter. If he was driving this body, this body was going to stop dancing around this girl.

Sharon was visibly relieved. Bucky wondered how many times Steve had canceled plans with her, and how many times she'd expected them to be canceled.

"Oh, good. It's supposed to rain, I was worried." She glanced down, then back up at him. "I can look into hotels if you want? You know. Just in case."

This was not the Sharon that Bucky knew. Man, Steve was clueless. Jesus Christ, Steve was an idiot. Just a gigantic walking idiot. Sharon deserved better. After two goddamn years and Steve still hadn't gotten his shit together for her, and she--god only knew why (no, that wasn't true, Bucky suspected these women saw the same things in Steve that he did, so he understood, he did, but even Steve couldn't be worth all of this), was willing to wait for him.

Bucky wanted to tell her to run.

"Yes," he said again. Wanda was going to have them back in their right bodies by then and Steve was going to stop fucking around. He smiled at her. "That sounds nice."

"Yeah." She glanced at the floor number display and moved closer to the doors. "I'm looking forward to the burgers."

Cheeseburgers! He knew that. Steve had mentioned it, offhand--Sharon was on the hunt for the world's best cheeseburger. Bucky grinned because he couldn't help himself. Steve had finally taken his advice. "It's got the best reviews in the state." Because he'd looked it up himself, left it up on the tablet and left the magazine open to the review article and left the printed-out map with the route from Steve's apartment to the little town outside of the city on the front of the refrigerator.

Steve wasn't great at subtlety.

If Sharon wanted a cheeseburger, Bucky believed, the woman deserved a cheeseburger. And if it took an hour's ride on the back of Steve's bike to get it, well. All the better.

She laughed a little. "That's what you said." The elevator stopped and the doors whoosh ed open for her. "See you later?"

"I'll text you." Texts were easy.

Sharon was still smiling when she passed out of view, around the corner.

Bucky sagged back against the wall of the elevator as the doors closed and it went down. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Without the talk to distract him, all there was to focus on was the lingering scent of Sharon's shampoo, on the memory of her warm arm so close.

How the hell did Steve even live like this?

The elevator let him out on the gym level, and he headed straight for the locker room. He got his own opened before he realized that his gym clothes wouldn't fit Steve's body, and then he had to sit down in front of Steve's locker and wait. He tried one code before he gave up. Sam would be disappointed to learn that 7-4-18 was not the unlock code.

Neither was the date of Project Rebirth. Bucky didn't bother trying the date he died in the Alps. That was too depressing even to think about.

A few minutes later, Steve stumbled into the locker room, his shirt unbuttoned and his hair out of its bun. There was a noticeable bulge in the front of Bucky's tight jeans. Bucky bit the inside of his mouth to hide the threatening smirk.

"How many," Steve asked, "of the female agents should I be worried about?" He glared.

"None of them, they can take care of themselves."

Steve scowled at him. It was pretty fearsome, Bucky had to admit, even though Steve was doing it with the wrong face. "Andrea, Jessica, and Melissa say 'hello.'"

He guessed Melissa--that was her shade of lipstick on his neck. Bucky made a face. "You'd better have played nice. I've got a reputation and those girls deserve my best."

" How many ?"

"How many what?"

"Bucky."

Bucky shrugged. "I don't know. Four? Five, maybe." He knew damn well how many, but Steve didn't need to know.

Yet...

"Bucky."

The disapproval was so strong Bucky could feel it.

"Don't look at me like that, you'll give me wrinkles." He looked down so he wouldn't have to see Steve's reaction when he said quietly, "It's nice not to feel like a mistake, Steve. All right?"

That seemed to knock Steve back a step. "Oh."

Don't say it, please don't say it, don't ask.

Steve, for once, took the hint. He sighed. "Yeah, fine."

Bucky glanced up at him. "You know, if you don't want to keep it up, we could always tell--"

"We're not telling anyone," he snapped. He crossed to his locker and input the passcode. "Avengers only. I wish Nat and Sam didn't know."

"Natasha would have found out somehow." Bucky stood up. "Let's hope, for your sake, that Wanda fixes this before tomorrow night."

"What's tomorrow night?"

Bucky waggled his eyebrows at him.

Steve groaned and reached into Bucky's locker to pull out his training clothes. "Can't you go two minutes without?"

"Not in this body I can't." Bucky watched Steve undress himself, breath hitching in his throat. "How do you do it?"

"I've had a lot of practice," Steve muttered. He caught Bucky watching him and turned away to dress quickly. "Let's go. We need to be ready to fight in these bodies if we have to."

Bucky changed, trying not to touch Steve's hypersensitive skin too much, trying not to let the clothes brush against him the wrong way. "I don't think we need that much practice."

"Training helps," was all Steve said, and started for the gym.

Bucky followed him. He wasn't sure what training helped, in a fight or Steve's mental state or the raging libido.

Maybe that was why Steve was always trying to exhaust himself. Like in BCT, when the drill sergeants wore you out so much you didn't have time to miss your best girl. All you wanted at the end of your day was your bunk and the six solid hours they'd let you get.

"All right," Bucky said, once they were on the mats and Steve had turned to face him. "Well, I already know your moves. Fight like I'm dancing and don't want to live."

Steve frowned at him.

"I swear to God, if you give me wrinkles--"

Steve made a face. "I do not fight like I'm dancing."

Bucky moved into a fourth position pose, tensed, and twisted into a roundhouse kick aimed straight at Steve's head. He fell into fifth position, then lunged into a right hook.

Steve blocked the punch and stepped out of his reach. He was still making a face like he'd been caught doing something he liked to pretend he didn't. "I do not ."

"Whatever you say, buddy." Bucky bounced on the balls of Steve's feet and leaned in. "What do you want to do?"

***

Steve made him throw the shield until his arms were so sore he didn't want to lift them anymore, and then they suited up. Bucky couldn't brawl like Steve did. Steve fought like he was dancing, or maybe like he was competing for a panel of gymnast judges, but he spent a lot of time just punching things until they stopped moving and throwing himself at things until they stopped moving and launching himself off of and around obstacles. It was exhausting.

Steve kept expecting himself to be bigger, and then considerably smaller. He didn't have Bucky's finesse--and by the end of their session, Steve was using the bionic arm more like a club than the precision mechanical prosthetic it was.

But they could fight, and that was good enough.

Bucky sat down on the floor near the wall and propped his arms on his knees. His skin was sticky-hot and the smell of himself was too much. He sucked down water and focused on his breathing, on his heartrate.

Steve wiped his face with one of the white towels and said, "I'm going to spend the rest of the day on the firing range in case they need you for long-range backup."

Bucky glanced up and over at him, then quickly looked back down at the mat between his knees. "Or we could just go home and take a few days off until we're back to normal."

"We don't know how long that will take."

"And you don't think you could use a break?"

"We don't need a break."

"I bet Sharon's still down on the range."

Steve didn't say anything. He just sank to the floor beside Bucky, his back against the cool wall, and accepted the offered bottle of water.

Bucky cleared his throat delicately and ventured, "I saw her in the elevator. On my way down here."

Steve choked and looked wild-eyed at Bucky. "Tell me you didn't--"

"Tell her to check for a place to stay this weekend in case it rains? Yes, I did."

"Bucky, no." He closed his eyes and dropped his head.

Bucky's jaw clenched. "Bucky no? Bucky no? What's wrong, Steve, afraid to spend a night alone with a woman who likes you?"

Steve glared down at his knees. "It's not that easy."

"No, it's easier than you make it." Bucky was just angry. Steve was always doing this--back when they were kids and Bucky would set up double dates, when he'd go out of his way to find a girl he thought Steve might be good for. He always found an excuse to back out, to run away, to avoid her. At least the war had forced him into close proximity to Peggy. Now there was no war to fight, and they weren't kids anymore. "She puts up with all your crap and hasn't moved on, and don't think no one noticed the way Klein moons over her. She could do better than you, pal."

"Gee, thanks, Buck."

Bucky sighed. He was suddenly very tired. "Fuck you, you know what I mean."

"It's not as easy as you think it is," he said again, quiet and firm.

"I know it's a lot easier than you think it is." Bucky paused. It occurred to him that maybe he was missing something. He bit the inside of his mouth. "Unless... Steve, is this about-- I mean, are you into her?"

Steve's face went red. Bucky didn't even know his body could blush anymore. "What are you talking about? Of course I am."

"Steve," he started gently, and hesitated. "You can't lie to me now. I've been in your body, I know how it reacts to Sam. And Fury. And... me."

Steve pressed his chin to his chest. Bucky's hair fell around his face. "Do we have to talk about this?"

"We don't have to talk about anything." Bucky shrugged. "I just think you're being unfair to Sharon. She doesn't deserve that."

Silence stretched between them. It wasn't uncomfortable; silence between them had never been uncomfortable. Fraught, sometimes. Tense, definitely, and more than once. But Bucky never worried about the affect the silence would have on them.

"I haven't done anything at all," Steve muttered. "With anyone."

It took a few heartbeats for Steve's words to sink in. He frowned. "You mean..."

Steve sighed. He looked up at the ceiling, the bare beams and ventilation ducts, above them, and he dropped his head against the wall. "Asking a woman to dance always seemed so terrifying," he quipped, and Bucky remembered when Peggy had told him about the cab ride in New York. Steve half-shrugged. "How do you think it seemed, wanting to ask a fella, too? So I never did. Then the war, and there wasn't time. And there was Peggy, anyway, and I thought if we survived I'd get my chance. But it didn't work out. It never works out," he finished.

He sounded so unbearably sad that Bucky's chest ached, felt hollow.

But Bucky wasn't any less angry. Steve had done a damn fine job of isolating himself after Mrs. Rogers had died, and when Bucky had joined up after Pearl Harbor, and--if Natasha could be trusted, and of course she could be trusted--after they thawed him out. Keeping Sharon at arm's length was just one more way to keep himself alone. "So, what, you're waiting to get frozen or for Sharon to get killed or something so you don't have to tell her you have no fucking clue what you're doing?" he snapped.

Steve made a face.

"If you give me wrinkles, I will fuck through the entire willing staff of this operation in your body. Sharon gets dibs. Then Wanda."

Steve looked mortified. "You wouldn't."

"You're damn lucky I don't go find Sharon right now, tell her it's me, and tell her it's the only chance she's going to get so she'd better hop on if she wants a ride." Bucky scrubbed a hand through his hair, missing the cool touch of the metal and the longer hair and, really, everything about his own body. "Never? Not even with Peggy?"

Steve didn't say anything.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I can't believe you ... " Bucky sighed. "I'm hungry. You're always hungry. Can we go eat?"

"We should probably tell the colonels. And Maria. And... Sharon." Steve winced. "I don't want her to--"

"You said not to, buddy, and it's not easy but I won't, all right?" Bucky frowned. "If we're telling your girl, you gotta tell mine."

"All of them?" Steve eyed Bucky.

"Don't look at me like that. I told you. It's nice to feel wanted."

Steve frowned. Bucky expected him to ask about that, and his shoulders got tight. He wanted to talk about not being a mistake less than Steve wanted to talk about being a swinging virgin, but if Steve pushed...

Finally, Steve asked, "Do they all know?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. Relief made him slump. "Yes, damn it. You think I'd two-time?"

"Even I know it's more than two, Buck."

Bucky snorted.

"You got a best girl yet? Maybe we can just tell her," Steve suggested.

"They work for a secret organization, the only gossiping they're doing is unclassified and with each other. Learn to have some faith in your support staff."

Steve's lips twisted in a wry smile. "So no best girl."

Bucky stood up abruptly. "No one seems to want the job yet." They were all having fun. So was he, even if he did want a little more. He shrugged. "Besides, I think they got some kind of system, who gets him today? Seems rude not to follow their rules."

Steve half-laughed. "You think the team will go for a lunch meeting?" He held a hand up to Bucky.

Bucky pulled him up. "The team, yes. The lady agents, no. Let's not embarrass them, we'll tell them in person."

Steve frowned. "But what about Sharon?"

Bucky had no intention of letting her walk into a team meeting without the right intel. "Sharon knows I'm the brains, anyway, she probably knew I'm in you in the elevator."

Steve blanched. "Do you have to say it like that?"

"Your butthole gets all quivery when I say it like that. I'm in you ."

Mortification was such an interesting expression on his face. "Fuck you."

Bucky grinned. "Is that an invitation, Cap?"

***

Bucky sent Sharon the text asking her to join them in the conference room once they secured one and arranged to have lunch brought up from the mess hall. Steve put out the call to assemble (something, Bucky was convinced, he secretly loved doing). Colonels Rhodes and Danvers were the only two who didn't know; the meeting was, probably, unnecessary, but Steve was big on Togetherness.

Bucky waited in the hall outside the conference room for Sharon. He watched her get off the elevator, and when she smiled at him, Steve's body went all hot and wanting.

Steve was such an idiot.

"Are we breaking the rules now?" She sounded almost hopeful.

Bucky wanted to break Steve's rules against workplace displays of affection. With Peg, they'd made sense; now, they were just dumb. Sharon deserved for those rules to be broken.

But he couldn't. "I just wanted to give you a head's up, what you're walking in to."

Sharon's body language closed up. "Damn it, Steve--"

"Bucky," he said.

Worry immediately darkened her eyes. "Is he all right?"

His heart clenched. These Carter women were really something special.

"I'm Bucky. One of Wanda's spells switched us. Mostly." He shrugged. "I've still got some of Steve and he's still got some of me, but mostly, it's me in his and him in mine."

He watched Sharon process what he'd said. He watched her expression neutralize and watched the subtle shift of her weight into a more defensive posture.

"So in the elevator--"

Bucky shook his head. "Steve is taking you for burgers. If it rains, you have my permission to kidnap him into spending the night with you."

She flushed a little. "It's not too late to cancel."

"Don't. Don't let him, Sharon. He wants that."

"I never know what he wants." Her mouth tightened, not quite a frown, not quite disapproval. "Why are you telling me now? Isn't that what this meeting is for?"

"I didn't want you to find out in front of everyone because of this morning," he admitted.

She fell quiet for a moment. Her lips curved. "You know, the girls only ever have nice things to say about you."

"Good, I think people have enough bad things to say about me, I don't want to give them more," he tried to joke.

Sharon gave him a shy smile. "Want to mess with Steve?"

"God, yes ."

She laughed. While he watched, she mussed up her ponytail just a little, as if someone had tried to run his fingers through her hair and gotten stuck, and she pinched her cheeks and smudged her hand across her lips, smearing her tinted lip balm.

"How do I look?"

Bucky tried to smile, feeling shaky. "If you ever get sick of waiting for Steve..."

She laughed quietly. "I know where to find you. Come on, let's do you, too."

She couldn't use words like that. Bucky leaned down so she could run her fingers through his hair--which of course sent a frisson of want straight through him, pooling in his groin--and she rubbed the side of her hand where her lip balm was sticky over his mouth. He smelled powder and mint and shuddered.

He pulled away, standing and wrinkling the front of Steve's shirt just to make it look rumpled.

"How do I look?"

"Like the stuff of my dreams," she said dryly.

Bucky offered her his hand. "I don't know what you see in him."

Sharon slipped her fingers between his, and as Bucky turned to open the door, he caught sight of her reflection in the window as she made a show of checking out Steve's ass.

"Oh, I like some things about him."

Bucky laughed.

Steve glanced their way when they entered. Bucky watched the split second he took to assess the situation and the frown that pulled at the edges of his mouth and tensed his jaw made Bucky's grin bigger and brighter.

"What did I tell you about wrinkles?" He tugged Sharon a little closer and she came, brushing against the length of his arm, her hip against his thigh. He led her to one of the chairs across the table from Steve and pulled it out for her.

The small, private smile she turned on him as she took her seat made Steve look like steam might come out of his ears.

"Yeah, Bucky , watch those wrinkles," Natasha said.

Sam coughed into his hand beside her to conceal the chuckle.

Rhodey made a face over his sandwich. "Steve, he's an old man, cut him some slack."

Bucky sat down beside Sharon and reached for the platter of sandwiches nearest them to drag it closer to her. "Nope." He waited for Sharon to take one before he plucked one from the edge for himself.

"He's not me," Steve blurted.

"Smooth," Sam murmured to Natasha, who smirked at Steve-in-Bucky.

Steve shot him a dark look, then focused on Sharon. "Wanda switched us. Bucky's in my body and I'm in his."

While Steve waited for Sharon's reaction, Bucky watched Rhodes and Danvers. He thought he could pinpoint the moment Colonel Rhodes regretted joining the team.

"Of course she did," Rhodey said, and he sounded a lot more tired than Bucky had expected.

Colonel Danvers just looked vaguely exasperated. "Where is Wanda?" she asked.

"She's still working on fixing this," Steve said.

Bucky looked away from Carol to gape at Steve. "Steve."

The note of warning in his voice must have been evident, because Steve at least had the grace to look vaguely embarrassed. "I told her," he said. "She didn't want to come. I didn't push it."

So much for Togetherness .

Bucky reached for one of the clean plates stacked in the middle of the table and started loading it with sandwiches and fruit. Steve might be mad enough to let her skip a team lunch, but Bucky wasn't going to let the girl forget that she was one of them.

Jesus, what was wrong with him? It was just a body swap. It wasn't even a malicious one. It was a goddamn accident. They'd been through worse.

"What happened, exactly?" Carol wanted to know. "Wanda woke up this morning and decided she wanted to see the Winter Soldier in Captain America's body?"

"I'm doing a much better job with it than he ever did," Bucky grumbled.

"I haven't been able to judge that yet," Sharon murmured.

They shared a conspiratorial smile.

Steve looked miserable. "She said she thought it would be useful. We're trying not to make this public," he added.

Because a team full of superheroes needed to be reminded not to make things worse than they already were.

Carol snorted. Bucky thought that was the most apt reaction to Steve's order.

"There's no reason to panic the facility," Steve said, as if he needed to defend his decision.

"Then why are you telling us?" Colonel Rhodes wanted to know.

"Because if we get the call to assemble, you all need to know we won't be at our best."

"Speak for yourself," Bucky said. He set aside the plate he'd made for Wanda, covered with an open paper napkin. "I'll be fine. You're the one who needs to go practice shooting."

Steve scowled at him.

"Wrinkles," Bucky, Sharon, and Nat said in unison.

Steve scowled at all of them.

***

Sharon held the door for him. "Are you going to see Wanda?"

"Yep. Thanks." He held up until she followed him into the hall, and they headed toward the elevator together. "I want to check on her. None of this is as bad as Steve thinks it is, but he's being pretty hard on her."

"He thinks her crush on him clouded her judgment," Sharon said. She shook her head.

Bucky blinked. "You know?"

"Who doesn't have a crush on Steve? I feel bad for her. It can't be easy." Sharon pushed the button at the bank of elevators. She turned to face him. "What are you doing after? Steve and I usually spar but I don't want to get my head taken off."

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her. "Shouldn't you get some rest? Didn't you come off a twelve-hour shift?"

"I always get to bed late his first day back on duty." Her cheeks went a little pink.

Steve was such a lucky son of a bitch and he didn't even know it. Bucky couldn't help the fond look he gave her. "You got it bad, Carter."

"Yeah, me and you and my dead aunt and Director Coulson and Sam Wilson and..."

Bucky barked a laugh. "Point taken." He tipped his head as a thought occurred to him. "Actually, do you dance?"

Sharon's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Dance. You know." Bucky wiggled, and that was... a gross mistake in Steve's body. He cleared his throat. "Maybe we could do that instead of sparring. Or shooting." He paused, then tried for confiding desperately, "Steve made me throw the shield this morning. I can't fight anymore today."

Sympathy was a good look on her. "What kind of dancing did you have in mind?"

"I don't know. What are you good at?"

The smile she gave him was pure wickedness.

He laughed, pleasantly surprised. "I think he'd kill me if we did that." He sighed a little, and for a moment was struck by how nice it was to have friends, to be friends. "Teach me some modern moves. Stuff I can use in the clubs."

"Bucky Barnes wants to go dancing. So the history books were right about you." She smiled. "Yes, let's dance. It's a date."

"What's a date?" Steve asked, coming up behind her.

Right as the elevator opened. Bucky darted in and slammed random buttons with his elbow. "Going up, sorry. See you in an hour, Sharon."

Before the doors closed, Bucky heard Steve ask, "What was that about?"

The elevator stopped three times before he finally got out on R&D. He got out and followed the long, long hallway all the way around to Wanda's amphitheater. He stopped at the vending machines alcove for a soda before he knocked on her door, but when he didn't get a response, he went right in.

She was sitting in the middle of the bare floor, tailor-style, playing with the edge of her skirt. She looked up when he moved close, then when back to plucking at her skirt and hiding behind her hair.

"I can't figure it out." She sounded so morose. "I've tried them all-- nothing . Captain Rogers is angry with me."

"Steve is angry with everyone. He's a very angry old man." Bucky sat down beside her and set the plate and the drink in front of her. "Have you eaten?"

She shook her head.

Bucky tried an encouraging little smile. "Eat something and talk to me."

She peered at him through her hair. "This is so strange. I see Captain Rogers, but I know it's Sergeant Barnes."

"I'm the better one, anyway." Bucky leaned back on his hands and stretched his legs out in front of him, taking up space and opening himself up, but carefully not invading her space. "I don't know what you see in him."

Wanda looked down.

Bucky resisted the urge to wince. Bad idea, Barnes. "What made you decide to try this? Switching us?"

She considered the pile of sandwiches--Bucky realized, belatedly, he'd gone a little overboard, but he didn't know what she'd like so he'd gotten one of everything, and he'd added the fruit and chips because he didn't know if she was into sweet or savory sides, and besides, everyone worked better on a full belly--before she chose one near the edge and answered him.

"Things with the Avengers are so strange," she said. "I thought perhaps the ability to put one of us in another's body might be useful. Natasha's ability to gather intelligence in the Captain's body, since there are places men can go that women cannot, for example."

Bucky nodded slowly. "Why start with me and Steve?"

"The closer two people are, the fewer secrets they have, the easier it may be for them to accept the switch."

Bucky couldn't fault that logic. Steve's body had its problems, but he would have been far more uncomfortable in anyone else's. He didn't even want to think about being switched with Natasha or Carol. "But you didn't think the spells would work yet."

"I was not ready for them to work." Her expression was pinched. "I would have asked permission before testing anything."

"Hey, I know that." Bucky took the chance and reached for her shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze. "Steve probably does, too. Don't let him get to you."

"He's our leader."

Bucky shrugged and dropped his hand. "Shouldn't stop you from telling him he's being a jerk when he's being a jerk. Sometimes he can use the reminder." Bucky sat back again and looked around the big room. It was open to the sky and there were little black pinpoints embedded in the walls, projectors. Sometimes, when the light was right, he could see the shimmering in the air that proved she'd been using some of Stark's display tech. "Have you been reviewing the footage?"

"Yes. I've been through it twice with no luck." She looked at him, hope in her big eyes. "I don't suppose you've remembered that you woke in the night?"

"I'm sorry." He was. He'd finally started sleeping for more than four hours at a time, and it was nice, a miracle he'd been grateful for.

"It's all right." Her smile was small, tight.

Bucky felt helpless. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Wanda glanced at the plate in front of her. Her tight smile softened. "No, thank you."

He really, really didn't like the helpless feeling. "Don't be afraid to ask." It was a theme among team members, it seemed--no one wanted to be a burden, no one wanted to reach out. "Whatever you need, all right? Steve's an ogre, but the rest of us aren't. We're here for you."

"I know." But there were things she wasn't saying, reservations that lingered.

Bucky understood them.

He squeezed her shoulder again. "You can do this, Wanda. Even if you have to come up with a new spell--or whatever it is, however it works."

Wanda's eyes lit up. Her whole face lit up. "That's it!"

Bucky blinked at her. "What is?"

She stood so quickly she nearly toppled over. "A new spell," she said, using his words. "I can reverse it with something new." She shoved the rest of her sandwich into her mouth and waved her hands. The room went dark, some kind of invisible containment field above them even shading the open portion of the roof, and footage of Wanda in fast-forward appeared in the air in front of her. "I didn't even think of that, but of course." She paused the video and peered at Bucky through the glowing transparent image. "Will you ask Captain Rogers to join us in the infirmary?"

Bucky shifted his weight so he could pull his phone from his pocket. "What do you want me to tell him?"

"I need to know exactly what has changed."

Bucky nodded absently. He texted Steve-- meet me in the infirmary wanda is ready to try fixing us --and then he texted Sharon because he never missed a date without letting the lady know why.

She replied immediately. Need someone to hold your hand?

Bucky grinned at his phone. Yes, please.

Steve wanted to know if Wanda had figured it out.

Bucky glanced up at the girl. She was studying the speeded-up recording, her eyes narrowed and her mouth tight and her hands held out in front of her.

she's trying be nice

Steve didn't respond.

Wanda cut her hands through the air, abruptly killing the floating video. She leaned over and took another sandwich and a handful of strawberry slices from the plate. She glanced at Bucky as she straightened.

"I am sorry for this."

Bucky pushed himself up, slipping his phone into his pocket. "I know you are, Wanda." The slide of fabric over his skin as he stood made him shiver. Soon, he'd be back in his own body. "We all make mistakes. Steve destroyed a dress shop a few minutes after they supersized him."

Wanda glanced at him. She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting a smile. "He did?"

"Crashed right through the window and ruined some poor girl's wedding dress fitting."

She laughed, a sharp, surprised sound like music to his ears. "He didn't!"

"The repair invoice is in the old SSR files Natasha dumped onto the Internet a couple of years ago." Bucky grinned at her. "I hope you didn't think Steve Rogers was perfect, Miss Maximoff, because I got about twenty years of stories that say he isn't."

***

"We didn't know Phillips was bringing Patton. He never told us shit . So Morita calls attention because he's on watch, and Steve's got no choice, he's just like the rest of us, he's gotta snap to. So we're all standing there, trying not to laugh, and there's Steve, naked as the day he was born. The colonel brings the general right to him and says, 'Here he is, General, America's last hope,' and Patton looks Steve over and says, 'Little chilly, is it, son?' Steve is such a shit he says, 'Actually, sir, I was feeling rather warm. Thought I'd cool off.'" Bucky snickered.

Sharon and Wanda stared at him, eyes bright and pretty mouths curved into lovely smiles.

"What happened then?"

"Patton asked to see the shield! Morita beat him to it so Steve didn't even get the chance to put anything on, but at least they let him use it to cover up because they carried on like that for ten minutes and wouldn't dismiss him." Bucky's grin felt wild. "Best inspection we had the whole war, let me tell you."

Sharon shook her head, her shoulders shaking a little, and Wanda laughed.

"I never saw that in any history books."

"Steve wouldn't let 'em put it in. We had a journalist with us, but he threatened to hit him with the shield if he wrote about it." Bucky shrugged. "I guess after Steve died the guy felt bad enough not to share it, anyway."

Sharon snickered. "Would have made AP history way more interesting."

"You egghead, I knew you were in accelerated classes."

Sharon actually looked down and he could have sworn he saw her cheeks go pink. "I had big shoes to fill," she said.

"Now, that's not true, I know for a fact Peggy didn't wear anything bigger 'an an eight." Bucky settled more comfortably back against the thin pillow on the raised bed.

Sharon rolled her eyes. "I don't even want to know how you knew that."

His smile felt a little wistful. "Peg wasn't much for gifts, but she never turned down a good pair of boots."

Or lipstick in her shade, but he didn't need to share that. He wasn't even sure Steve knew it.

The doorway darkened, and the three of them looked up to find Steve lingering, frowning, holding the back of his gown closed with one hand and looking entirely uncomfortable.

"I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Nope, you're just in time. Wanda has some questions for you."

Steve shuffled in and sat down on the room's other bed. The nurse followed him in, and once he'd settled back, she started fitting him with the monitoring equipment.

Steve gave Wanda and expectant look. "Let's hear it."

Wanda smoothed a hand down the front of her skirt and glanced at Bucky. He gave her a reassuring nod.

"Can you tell me what you've noticed is different? Sergeant Barnes said that he still feels some of your presence in his mind, but it's mostly him."

Steve frowned. His eyes darted to Sharon, and before he answered Wanda, he asked her, "Why are you here?"

"Moral support." She held up her hand where Bucky's fingers were linked with hers. "He's scared of the doctor," she deadpanned.

Steve frowned.

Bucky couldn't help the huffy little laugh.

"Bucky." Steve sounded so unhappy, so disapproving.

"She's not wrong," he said. He shrugged.

The look Steve gave him didn't require ninety years of friendship to decipher.

Bucky pretended to ignore it. "Are you going to talk to Wanda or not?"

Steve looked back at Wanda, frowning, brow furrowed. He said, slowly, "Bucky's right," and went on to describe in details Bucky had been discreet enough not to share in front of Sharon--regardless of what Steve believed--what was different between his normal consciousness in his own body and what he was experiencing in Bucky's.

Wanda listened very carefully, very seriously, nodding every now and then. Bucky watched her, watched her mind work, but even that and Steve's voice weren't enough to distract him from the warmth of Sharon's palm against his.

It was bittersweet. Sweet, because even something as simple as the touch of her hand made heat simmer under Steve's skin. Bitter, because Bucky liked it, he really liked just having a hand to hold, and once he was back in his own body there was no one who would just hold his hand.

When Steve finished, Wanda said, "I would like for the nurses to monitor the two of you for the next hour. Maybe longer."

Bucky sighed dramatically and rolled his head toward Sharon. "Forgive me?"

She smiled indulgently at him, looking once more just exactly like Peg. She heaved a sigh. "I guess I can go get some sleep."

"You need it." Bucky raised their hands, idly, and brushed his lips over her knuckles. "Maybe tomorrow?" During the war, spending time with Peggy would have been damaging--for her reputation, for her authority. The rules were different now, and Bucky liked that he could make friends with all of the women in Steve's life.

He liked that there was an "all" to describe the women in Steve's life.

"I'm looking forward to it." She let his hand go as she stood, and she looked across his bed to Steve, to smile at him. "I'll see you later, too?"

"Yes." Steve looked momentarily hopeful before he shut it down. "Dinner?"

"I haven't changed my plans." She headed for the door, pausing beside Wanda to squeeze her arm. "Don't let him scare you. He needs you."

Bucky ducked and looked away to hide the smirk. Oh, Sharon was devious.

Steve waited until Sharon was gone before he asked Wanda, "What do you want us to do?"

"I will be in contact." She waved her hands like she had in the magic room and a "screen" appeared in mid-air, showing her practice space. "I will have your vitals routed to me. I think we can fix this, Captain."

His face softened a fraction. "I know you can, Wanda."

She froze. Bucky waited for her to say something, watching the jump of her pulse in the hollow of her throat. But she didn't say anything. She just nodded once, turned, and left.

The nurse followed her out.

Steve turned to face Bucky. "What the hell are you doing with Sharon?"

"Making you look good." Bucky folded his hands over his abdomen and tipped his head back. He closed his eyes. This was the least physical, aural, and olfactory stimulation he'd endured all day. It was nice . "Natasha's a dancer, I can't learn new moves from her. Sharon is a hip modern woman who does not want to see me dance, so I can learn hip modern dance moves from her."

Steve was quiet. The only sound between them was the steady beep beep beep of their heart monitors.

"You didn't tell her?" he finally asked, voice low.

Bucky frowned. He opened his eyes, head rolling to the side. Steve wasn't looking at him, he was staring down at his lap.

He hadn't looked so small since 1943.

"Are you kidding?"

Steve didn't say anything.

Bucky shook his head. "That's your secret to tell."

"I meant--"

"It doesn't matter what you meant, Steve. It's your secret to tell. They're all your secrets. Sharon's crazy about you, God knows why." He shrugged. "If you're asking me if I think it's going to bother her, no. I don't think so."

Steve frowned, furrowing Bucky's brow.

Bucky groaned. "Wrinkles!"

Steve rolled his eyes and looked over at him. "Why are you so worried about wrinkles?"

Bucky wriggled around on the bed, trying to get comfortable again. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. "I've seen your face up close in one of the mirrors now. I do not want your worry lines."

He didn't need to see Steve to know he was making a face.

"Stop that."

Steve sighed. "I'm not old."

"Could have fooled me."

There was a quiet static-y noise, the microphone and speakers between their infirmary room and Wanda coming to life.

Then, her voice, "Are you ready to start?"

***

It took four tries. The first two did nothing except give Bucky a headache and blurred vision. The third spell had them split: half of each in each body. Bucky found himself in Steve's brain in a way he'd never wanted to experience. Being in his body had been enough of a violation, being in his brain felt like the worst kind of wrong. The psychic blast of confusion from both of them sent Wanda curling in on herself, dropped to her knees.

Bucky really hated seeing good people like that because of him.

He struggled to quiet his mind, to hide the parts of himself he didn't want to share with Steve away, behind walls, behind things he didn't mind sharing. The only thing he couldn't help was his own panic.

It was too much like being under HYDRA's control.

Wanda threw another spell at them, through them, a piercing burning pain that seemed to shatter him and melt him back together, and it was over.

Back in his own body, Bucky kept his eyes closed and breathed and counted. He tested feeling, his toes and his fingers and his own heart. He tested moving--curling his toes, wiggling his fingers. He shifted on the bed.

"Thank you, Wanda."

"Your vitals seem to be back to normal. I am sorry, Captain. Sergeant."

Bucky blinked his eyes open and focused on her face on the holographic screen. "Hey, everyone makes mistakes."

Wanda looked away and down, then back to him. "I need to rest." The circles under her eyes were so dark they were nearly black, her skin so pale it was almost translucent.

Steve started to get up, as if to go to her. Then he reached for the call button. "I'm sending someone to help you, Wanda, don't leave yet."

She didn't say anything, she just nodded. The hologram disappeared.

For the moment, Bucky and Steve were alone. Bucky looked over at Steve.

"I can't believe what you live with."

"I liked being in your body," Steve admitted. "The arm is a little heavy and your back hurts some, but... it's not so bad." He even smiled a little. "I hope I didn't do too much damage with--"

Bucky waved him off. "They'll understand. They're all good girls." He swung his legs off the bed and started pulling the monitors off of his head, his chest. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

Bucky waited until Steve looked at him.

"You can't protect everyone by keeping them at a distance. You can't protect yourself, either. It doesn't matter how close you let Sharon get or how far you push her away. She's one of us, just like Peg, just like Sam, just like Nat."

The skin around Steve's eyes and his mouth tightened, pain Bucky knew only too well.

"I mean it," he said firmly.

"I know you do, Buck."

"And I meant what I said earlier, too." Bucky slid off the bed. The floor was fucking cold. "She can do better than you. So maybe step it up a little, huh?"

"How do I do that?"

"Pray for rain this weekend." Bucky reached back to hold the back of his gown closed and scanned the room for the drawer where they kept the godawful purple socks with the smiley face grippies. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to see a doctor about some swelling."

Steve made a face. "Bucky--"

Bucky just grinned.

***

Dr. Kemp was one of the staff primary care providers. Bucky had asked to be transferred to another PCM as soon as he'd met her. He understood her reluctance, he really did; but a day in Steve's body, in Steve's life, had him thinking about her, and he just couldn't ignore the tight hot feeling in his chest.

He left Steve to change and padded out of the room, down the hall to her office. She was off-shift, but she usually spent an extra hour or so in her office to catch up on paperwork.

Bucky held up in front of her door and squared his shoulders. He exhaled, slowly, and smoothed his hair back from his face, and he knocked.

"Enter."

He pushed in, and once he'd shut the door behind him and she'd looked up from her computer screen, he stuck his leg out and twisted, showing off his leg up to his thigh.

"Do you think these socks make my legs look skinny? I don't think purple is my color."

She peered over her glasses at him and he watched her struggle not to smile. "Purple is definitely not your color."

Bucky smiled at her. "Hey, doc." He hadn't felt this breathless and nervous in front of a girl in a long, long time.

"Hello." She arched one perfectly-shaped brow. "If you are my sergeant."

Oh, that hit him just right. "Yes, ma'am." He cleared his throat a little and held his arms up and out. He turned slowly, making sure the gown gaped in the back. "The one and only."

She laughed, a sound that rolled through him, spreading warmth all through him, pricking beautiful heat under his skin.

Bucky faced her again and once he was sure it was all right, he started slowly toward her, skirting the edge of her desk.

"Need any help?"

"I think you're over-qualified to file my paperwork, Sergeant Barnes."

He leaned his hip against her desk, careful not to dislodge any of the files. "Aren't we on a first-name basis yet?"

She smiled up at him, indulgent, sweet, warm. "Maybe I like calling you sergeant."

"Who am I to deny a lady what she wants?" What he wanted was to hit his knees, put his head in her lap, and feel her fingers in his hair while she told him about her day.

They weren't there yet.

Maybe never, but he was sure going to try. He wasn't going to hold back. Not anymore.

"I've heard that about you." She smirked.

Bucky hid the urge to wince and his heart climbed into his throat. "Is that a problem?" It had been, sometimes, he remembered. Before everything.

"Maybe. Maybe not." She shrugged then and took her glasses off and leaned back in her chair. "It depends on why you're here."

He met her eyes. "I'm here for whatever reasons you want me to be here."