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Steve’s boots dig into the soft dirt that covers the ground, and he grins as he ducks through the familiar path of trees. The shining sun peeks out from between the leaves overhead, and he doesn’t spare a glance toward the cabin as he breezes past it.
He hasn’t been to Wakanda in months — far too long for his liking — but work has kept him busy. It’s easier not to dwell and worry when his mind and hands are occupied.
The trees around him grow thicker the further he makes his way into the forest. Muscle memory leads him down the winding trail until it disappears completely. He follows the soft splash of running water coming from the spring that he knows is hidden amidst the trees.
As he rounds one last corner, the scent of leather and old sketchbooks — the scent of home — tickles his nose. Steve picks up speed, and the world around him turns to a blur for the briefest of moments before he stills at the edge of the clearing.
Wakanda is beautiful; between the bustling, thriving city and the surrounding wilderness, Steve’s sure that he could spend the rest of his days tucked into the countryside with few complaints. He’s always been in awe of how the Wakandans have stayed under the radar, a hidden gem if there ever was one.
Steve’s never been so sure of that fact as when he steps slowly into the clearing. The water is so clear, so blue, babbling quietly in the small oasis. There’s the quiet rush of a waterfall that’s nestled in the side of the cliff, and overhead, birds are chattering in the trees.
The sun reflects off the bright surface of the still water, only disrupted by the small wake created by the man drifting in the middle of the spring.
Steve sees a flash of brunet hair and golden, tanned skin from his place at the mouth of the clearing, and he takes a step forward.
Leather. Paper. Home.
His face splits into a wide grin as he crosses the distance to the water’s edge, his fingers already working against the buckles and zips holding his suit in place. The top is discarded onto the soft earth first, and he doesn’t stop moving as he slips out of his pants and drops them to the ground as well. By the time his toes are dipping into the water, he’s bare as the day he was born, his clothing left in a haphazard trail behind him.
The water warms him as he wades into the spring, and though he aches to call out, he doesn’t want to disrupt the peacefulness surrounding them. His movements are slow the further in he gets, eyes focused on the soft, relaxed expression on Bucky’s face.
His eyes are closed, his right arm floating alongside him and gliding through the water gently. He hasn’t moved to acknowledge Steve’s presence, but Steve watches as his nose twitches lightly and the corner of his lips tick up in a soft smile.
The waves he creates rock Bucky’s body, but it isn’t until he’s close enough to touch that Bucky’s eyes blink open. Wide, cerulean eyes meet Steve’s own, and Bucky’s smile is so gentle, so full of love, that his heart feels like it could burst.
“Hi, baby,” Bucky says, stretching his hand out through the water. His fingers drag down Steve’s bare side in a soft hello before shifting to stand, though he doesn’t move his hand away.
“Hi,” Steve returns, his own hands hanging uselessly at his sides. The air around them feels charged; months of longing and heartache bubbling up to the surface as they peer at each other in the center of the spring.
Steve thinks back to the man on the bridge, the man he had a hand in rescuing after nearly a century of misfortune, and struggles to see an echo of that person in the man before him. There were once heavy shadows under Bucky’s eyes that Steve swore would never disappear no matter how much rest he got, and a hollow stare that showed nothing but pain. Those features are replaced with a warm smile and a gentle touch that less than a year ago, Bucky would have shied away from.
Above all else, Bucky looks healthy. His skin, once sunken and gaunt, is full and golden from hours spent in the sun — hours spent in this exact place, if Steve had to guess. There’s nothing where his left arm once sat, prosthetic surely left back in his cabin, and even the scars seem to look less vicious.
He’s put on weight, a soft, protective layer of fat settled around his middle, and his hair is long and healthier than Steve’s ever seen it. The time spent in Wakanda has done Bucky a world of good, and Steve finds himself more grateful than ever for everything that T’Challa and the royal family have done for them. For Bucky.
“How’ve you been, Buck?” he asks, voice soft as his hand finds Bucky’s under the water. He laces their fingers together, tugging forward until they’re pressed from hip to chest. The ground squishes under his toes, and Steve finds himself mirroring Bucky’s grin.
“Really good,” he says with a nod. He squeezes Steve’s fingers, bringing their joined hands between them to rest against Steve’s chest. “This is exactly what I needed.”
His eyes leave Steve’s long enough to glance around the small clearing, toward the riverbank and the trees overhead. Steve follows his gaze, and together they watch a flock of birds fly overhead.
“It’s very peaceful,” Steve agrees, fingers aching to pull Bucky forward, to kiss those soft, red lips. It’s been too long; between giving Bucky the space that he needed and dealing with the aftermath of, well, everything else, there hasn’t been enough time. “You deserve a little bit of calm in your life. I’m glad you’re finally getting it.”
Bucky smiles. “Yeah,” he says, shoulders shrugging as he looks up at Steve through his lashes. “I’ve missed you, though.”
Steve’s heart picks up speed, thumping in his chest as the ache to close the scant distance between them grows harder to ignore.
“I’ve missed you too, sweetheart,” he says, thumb brushing against the soft skin of Bucky’s wrist. “So much it hurts sometimes.”
He doesn’t say it to be mean, but Steve’s never been able to lie to Bucky. Their time apart has been hard on both of them — that isn’t a secret — but Steve knows it was important. After everything they had been through in their long, long lives, the last thing either of them were ready for was another goodbye.
Bucky’s smile softens, and he loosens his hold on Steve’s hand to trail his fingers up the length of Steve's forearm and across the curve of his bicep. A strong hand wraps around the back of his neck, and Steve goes boneless under the touch as he sways forward until their foreheads press together.
“We’re here now, baby,” Bucky says, lips pursed as he presses a kiss to the bridge of Steve’s nose, another to the soft skin under his eye. His lips trail from one cheek to the other before pausing over Steve’s parted lips. “Can’t ask for anything more than that.”
He’s never felt more his true designation than when he’s in Bucky’s arms, wanting to love and care for the man he’s loved for his whole life. The world might know that Steve Rogers is an Omega, but that’s only because he was Bucky’s Omega first.
“I love you,” Steve whispers, hands settling against the small of Bucky’s back as their lips finally meet in a tender kiss. It’s barely more than a brush of lips before Bucky’s pulling back, his fingers twisting into the long hair at Steve’s nape.
“I love you,” Bucky returns, head tilting so their noses brush together. Steve’s eyes fall closed, and all he can focus on is Bucky’s skin against his own. Their stomachs brushing between them, the soft th-thump of Bucky’s heart against his chest, Bucky’s fingers wound through his hair.
Leather. Paper. Home.
Bucky’s mouth finds his, and their lips move together slowly, like they have all the time in the world. Steve savors the familiar taste, the soft scratch of Bucky’s stubble against his chin, as the water flows around them.
They pull back after several long moments, Bucky’s hand slipping back down to wrap around Steve’s. He leads him back through the water, bodies bowed together as they make their way toward the edge of the spring.
Dirt gives way to overgrown grass, and Bucky doesn’t spare it a second glance before slipping to the ground, the hand in Steve’s pulling him down to follow. He lands half on top of Bucky, their chests pressed together, laughter falling into the air between them.
“God, I’ve missed you,” Bucky murmurs, his hand carding through Steve’s hair as they settle against the earth. Steve hums, pressing into the contact as Bucky continues. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what brings you out all this way?”
Steve grins, ducking down to press another lingering kiss against Bucky’s lips before rolling to the side, stretching out on his back as their shoulders brush. He watches the clouds float through the sky for a moment before turning his head and meeting Bucky’s gaze.
“Shuri had some ideas for the Quinjet,” he says with a shrug. Their fingers find each other amidst the grass, like two magnets that can’t bear to be separated any longer. “I wasn’t really in a position to argue.”
Bucky laughs, and the world around them pales in comparison to the beautiful sound. There was once a time that Steve was sure he’d never hear it again, left with the memories of it filtering through his one good ear before the war, or the rare chuckle Bucky let out while they were on the front lines.
Maybe he’s not remembering it correctly, or maybe Bucky’s just never laughed like this: soft and sweet, careless in a way they could never afford to be. Steve wants to live in Bucky’s laugh, to wrap it around himself like a blanket and never let go.
“I don’t think arguin’ with Shuri would do you much good,” Bucky says, laugh still echoed through the smile on his face. He stretches his legs out in front of him, toes curling in the soft grass. “Not a bad place to be shipwrecked, huh?”
Steve squeezes his man’s hand, thumb digging into the soft bump of Bucky’s scent gland. He brushes against the skin, feeling the rough edge of a scar that mars the flesh, a scar left by Steve himself.
“I could think of worse places,” he says, smiling as he pulls their joined hands up to press a kiss against the back of Bucky’s hand. He lets it linger, lips resting against soft skin, content to just breathe Bucky in.
Leather. Paper. Home.
“How long are you here for?” Bucky asks, rolling to rest on his side, leaving their tangled fingers on Steve’s chest. Steve mirrors the motion, and he brings a hand to Bucky’s hip, pulling him closer.
“I’m sure Shuri will be done within the day, but Sam’s here, too. He can always take the jet back to New York on his own.” The lack of urgency goes unsaid, and Bucky’s smile brightens as he realizes the meaning of Steve’s words. Now that he’s got Bucky in his arms, Steve isn’t sure how he’s ever meant to leave.
Maybe someday he’ll figure it out, but today isn’t that day.
“Steve, that’s great,” Bucky says, eyes shining as he leans forward to steal another kiss. With each other in arm’s reach, it seems that they can’t stop touching, stop kissing, and Steve glows under the attention.
For two people who have lived such long lives, the amount of time they’ve spent apart is criminal. There is a lot of time to make up for — years spent lost and mourning — but they had nothing but time.
“I’m here as long as you’ll have me,” Steve grins, reaching forward to tuck a drying lock of hair behind Bucky’s ear. His hand lingers, sinking into the silky strands as he pulls Bucky forward and slots their lips together.
Their movements are slow, languid in a way they’ve never had the time to be before. They explore each other, hands wandering and tongues brushing lazily until the sun has long since dried their skin.
It isn’t until that sun has dipped below the line of trees that Bucky pulls back, pressing one final peck to Steve’s lips. He lifts himself off the ground easily, eyes moving across the clearing before settling on Steve once again.
Cerulean eyes sparkle, and Steve lifts himself up onto an elbow, a smile already playing on his lips as Bucky holds out a hand.
“C’mon,” Bucky says, fingers wrapping around Steve’s as he pulls him to his feet. “Let me show you to our cabin.”
They separate long enough to pull their clothes on, and Steve shoots Bucky a shy smile as he strides across the clearing to gather each part of his suit. A soft pink flush colors his cheeks, and Bucky presses a kiss to the warmed skin for his trouble.
The trip back to the cabin takes longer the second time around. Bucky moves at a slow, leisurely pace, his hand wrapped around Steve’s. He points out small landmarks as they move through the overgrown foliage: a tree that looks like a giraffe, a den where he’s seen a family of foxes taking an afternoon nap, and a small patch of flowers that Bucky has carefully nursed back to health.
Steve smiles as he listens to the stories that Bucky tells, giving him space to get his thoughts out and providing commentary when there’s a lull in conversation. It’s been a long several months since they’ve had time to enjoy each other’s company, and Steve’s soaking up every second, hanging on Bucky’s every word.
By the time they reach the cabin, the sun has set completely, and an evening fog has settled around them. It casts everything in a soft, ethereal glow, further shutting them off from the outside world.
Bucky lights the lanterns inside the cabin without a word, and Steve has a moment to himself to take in their surroundings. The last time he had visited, the cabin was bare: a bed shoved into one corner and a shoddy table in the middle of the small dining area.
Now, it feels lived in and full. The stale sheets have been replaced with fluffy bedding, a makeshift nest woven into the linens. Bucky’s brought in a shelf that is brimming with books, so many that there’s a small stack on top of the shelf itself. Art lines the walls, and Steve recognizes some of his own sketches amidst the drawings that Steve knows came from the local children who seem to flock to Bucky.
Above everything else, the home is full of Bucky. Every corner and crevice is so full of Bucky’s personality, Bucky’s scent. It feels full of life and full of love, and Steve is filled with pride for the home that Bucky has built himself.
Leather. Paper. Home.
Bucky quietly pads around the small space, and when he passes close by, Steve stops him with a hand on his hip. He stills without question, face soft and warm as he tilts his head to meet Steve’s gaze.
Steve pauses, his eyes glued to Bucky’s face. His words disappear from the tip of his tongue as he takes in Bucky’s features. Worry lines that had once been etched deep into the skin have disappeared completely, and Bucky’s lips curl into a sweet, lazy smile while waiting for Steve to gather his thoughts.
They’ve lived for more than a century, and Steve would get up in front of God himself to swear that he’s never seen anyone more beautiful than Bucky looks at this moment.
“Y’alright, Steve?” Bucky asks, leaning into Steve’s touch as his hand finds Steve’s shoulder. His fingers trace along Steve’s neck, and the skin seems to light up under Bucky’s touch, the crescent moon scar buzzing in an echo of the beat of his heart.
“I love you.”
They’re the only words that Steve can come up with, the only words that seem to convey the emotions thrumming under his skin. There hasn’t been a day in his life that he hasn’t loved Bucky Barnes.
Bucky smiles, teeth flashing in the dim light, leaving Steve to wonder why they even bothered with lanterns in the first place. His thumb nail scratches across the bonding mark on Steve’s neck as he presses forward and brushes a soft kiss to Steve’s lips.
“I know you do,” Bucky murmurs against Steve’s mouth, their noses brushing. Steve can feel Bucky’s nose scrunch with another smile before he ducks forward to taste it.
They kiss for several long moments, standing in the center of the cabin as the world spins on around them. Nothing matters outside of these walls, outside of their embrace, and Steve feels himself falling headfirst into Bucky’s orbit.
“I love you, too,” Bucky returns when they separate for breath, the hand on Steve’s neck keeping him close. “You’re everything, Steve.”
Steve’s eyes fall closed, and his eyes sting with unshed tears as their foreheads meet. It’s everything he’s wanted for so long, everything he’s been too scared to long for. Bucky is here, safe in Steve’s arms.
If Steve is everything, then Bucky is so much more than that. He’s the clouds in the air and the stars in the sky. There was never a Steve Rogers without Bucky Barnes, and Steve feels himself settle with the knowledge that there never will be.
They stand there for a long while, breathing the same air and savoring each other’s presence. There are no deadlines, nowhere to be, and Steve lets himself drown in Bucky. Bucky’s skin pressed against his, Bucky’s scent in his nose, and for the first time in nearly one hundred years, Steve feels at peace, surrounded by leather, paper, and home.
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