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“So, yeah,” Bucky finished. “It was fine. She liked the flowers and the drinks were good.” He thought a bit more. “I gotta ask her for more recommendations. Most of the bars I used to go to don’t exist anymore.”
Bucky’s therapist tapped her notebook. “Are you planning on a third date? It sounds like the second went well.”
Bucky shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” He shuffled his feet awkwardly to fill the silence. “She seems nice.”
His therapist fixed him with a stare, and Bucky sank lower in his seat. “James, what is it exactly that you get out of your relationships with women?”
“I dunno,” Bucky said. “Stuff.”
“Is stuff sex?” She waited. “It’s okay, you can say sex.”
Bucky’s face burned. “It’s not… it's not sex.”
“Hmm.” His therapist stared at him, letting the awkward silence draw out.
“That doesn’t work on me, doc. I don’t have anything else to say.” Bucky flashed a quick, fake, smile.
The therapist switched tactics. “Alright.” She turned a page of her notebook, poising her pen at the top of a new page. “James, social norms have changed a lot since the 1940s. If you don’t find these sorts of relationships fulfilling, you don’t have to have them.”
“These sorts of relationships,” Bucky repeated flatly.
She shrugged. She hadn’t written anything down yet.
Bucky narrowed his eyes. “What are you implying, doc?”
She leaned forward. “I’m not implying anything. Why? Do you think I’m implying something?”
Bucky glowered. If she was saying his relationships with women were unfulfilling, it sounded an awful lot like she meant– “No.”
She smiled, her teeth glinting. “Well then. Give it some thought, will you?”
“Uh huh.” Bucky had no intention of doing so, and his therapist looked just about to call him out on it, so he cast around desperately for something he could say to distract her. “I had a nightmare last night where Sam was a HYDRA agent,” he blurted out.
His therapist’s eyes widened, and she started writing frantically. “Oh? What happened?”
Bucky didn’t remember, because he had completely made the dream up. He tried to dodge the question. “What do you think it means, doc?”
His therapist nodded thoughtfully, still writing. “Well,” she said, “How did the dream make you feel?”
Bucky tried not to smile. He wondered if all therapists were this predictable, or if he had just gotten lucky. He arranged his face to look sad, or at least brooding. “Awful,” he said. “So betrayed. Do you think I should confront Sam about it?”
His therapist somehow started writing even faster.
***
Bucky had promised himself he wouldn’t think about what his therapist said, but he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned and thought about what his therapist said.
Social norms have changed a lot since the 1940s. Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. Just because he wasn’t over the moon about some date, that meant he should give up on women entirely? And what? Date… men?
Bucky knew that men could be attracted to men. There had been gay men in his and Steve’s neighborhood in Brooklyn, and Bucky had always figured it was none of his business. In the twenty-first century, he had been shocked the first time he saw a gay couple kissing in public. In broad daylight, in front of a police officer too. Steve had just laughed at the shocked expression on Bucky’s face and touched his hand, pulling him away. Things were different now, he explained, but some things were the same. If Bucky kept standing around staring, it was going to scare people.
Whenever anyone tried to complain about how this whole LGBT thing was new, Bucky laughed in their face. History was queer as fuck. Bucky knew. He had lived it.
But that didn’t mean that he had ever considered it something he could be a part of.
He sat up in bed and reached for his laptop. He opened a browser. am i gay, Bucky typed into the search bar. He clicked the first result that came up.
The page loaded slowly. The colors were bright and garish. The font was barely legible. Bucky squinted as he read.
Hi!!! You’re probably taking this quiz because you think you might be gay but you’re not sure. Well, don’t worry!! There’s nothing wrong with being gay, and this quiz will help you figure it out!!
A frown settled onto Bucky’s face. It was too late in the day– early in the morning?– for that many exclamation marks, but he clicked the button to start the quiz.
Have you ever dated anyone of the opposite sex?
Well, that one was easy. Bucky had dated tons of women. Mostly a hundred years ago, but the quiz didn’t mention an expiration date.
Did you ever feel like something was missing in your relationship(s) with members of the opposite sex?
Bucky’s frown deepened. Had the quiz author been having discussions with his therapist? No, he checked irritably. His relationships with women were perfectly fine. Never particularly serious, sure, but fine.
Sometimes it took time to find someone who you had a real connection with, that was all.
Do you think this man is visually appealing? (If you are a girl, skip this question)
Bucky glanced at the photo. It was a grainy, oily man with his shirt off. He was muscular, with well defined abs, but Bucky had seen better. Post-serum Steve put every other muscular man Bucky had ever seen to shame. Plus, who would want to touch someone who was covered in oil? Pass. Hard pass.
He skipped the corresponding question for girls, then: As a child, did you have a friend of the same sex who you were abnormally close to?
Bucky checked no. The only friend he really had growing up was Steve, and–
Oh no. Oh no.
Did you ever think that no member of the opposite sex could possibly understand you as well as your abnormally close childhood friend?
Well, yes, but– well, there weren’t many supersoldiers from the 1940s walking around modern day New York City, so it didn’t count. No.
Were you ever jealous of the boys/girls your friend showed interest in?
Bucky ground his teeth and mashed his keyboard. Absolutely not. Peggy Carter was a very nice girl, and Steve was lucky to have her. He just– worried about Steve, that was all. That was the feeling in his stomach whenever he would see them together.
Did you ever think about kissing your same sex friends?
Bucky moved his cursor to “No,” hovered his finger over the trackpad. Only a normal amount, he thought, and that was the moment he knew he was completely fucked. He clenched his jaw and stubbornly pressed down on his trackpad.
This question is just for fun! Last but not least, which of these gay icons do you prefer: Beyonce or girl in red?
Bucky exhaled, letting his shoulders fall. Underneath the question, there were two pictures. One was of a black woman wearing a short, sparkly dress, smiling and holding her arms out towards a screaming crowd. The other was of a sad looking white girl in a hoodie.
Bucky chose the sad girl. He didn’t recognize either of them, but he related to her glum expression. She was probably tired of people asking her questions about relationships too.
Bucky tried to click to get the results of the quiz, but an ad got in the way, and he opened a popup instead. He swore, trying to click out, but he clicked another ad instead, and it was taking him to a website that promised there were hot girls in his area, but Bucky didn’t know about that, because their outfits looked awfully cold– sometimes, Bucky wasn’t sure if modern technology was a blessing or a curse.
Steve had promised to help Bucky install something called an adblocker. They had never gotten around to it.
By the time Bucky figured out how to close the ad, there was something bouncing in his download bar, but he ignored it, focusing on the results of his quiz.
You are straight, the website read, and Bucky gave a sigh of relief. Either that, or you are struggling with your sexuality, and chose all of the straight answers on this quiz to feel better about yourself. Good luck! Remember, Love is Love :)
Bucky slammed his laptop shut and threw it onto his bedside table. What did the internet know, anyway? He was going to bed, and then he was clearing his browser history. He huffed angrily, and pushed his face into his pillow.
It smelled kind of gross. He needed to wash his sheets.
It hadn’t been that long. Bucky was just a sweaty sleeper, especially when he had bad dreams. Which was most of the time.
He flipped his pillow, and turned over to stare at the ceiling.
He couldn't see anything. His eyes weren't adjusted to the dark.
He gave up on not trying to think. He rolled over and reached for his phone. He pressed one of the only numbers he had saved.
Sam picked up. “Hey Sam,” Bucky said.
“I’m on my way,” Sam said. “Where are you? Who is it this time? Robots?”
“What?” Bucky said. “No, it’s not a work thing. I just wanted to talk.”
Sam groaned. “It’s two in the morning.”
Bucky frowned. “So?”
“Don’t call people at two in the morning! I was trying to sleep.”
“But you didn’t have to pick up. My therapist said that it’s okay to text people overnight. There’s a setting called “do not disturb” that most people use.”
There was a moment of silence. “Your therapist really sucks at explaining twenty first century phone etiquette.”
“Oh,” Bucky said.
Sam sighed. The sound was staticky through the speakers. “What did you want to talk about?”
Bucky felt bad for waking Sam up. “Oh, it’s okay. You can go back to sleep if you—”
There was a rustling noise. “No, no. I’m up. No point now.”
Bucky cleared his throat. “Okay, uh. Do you think I had a crush on Steve?”
There was a very long pause. Bucky tried again. “Sam, are you still—”
“I am trying so hard not to hang up the phone right now,” Sam said.
“Is that a yes or a no?” Bucky asked.
Sam gave another staticky sigh. “Why are you asking me?”
“Well, you knew Steve. You know me.”
Another pause. “Better than you knew him? Or yourself?”
“Maybe,” Bucky admitted.
“This is… Look, it’s none of my business, okay?” Sam sounded uncomfortable.
“Please,” Bucky said.
Sam paused. “I thought you two had already talked about this. I thought– look, you came from a different time. I didn't want to— interfere.”
“Interfere in what,” Bucky asked, dreading the answer.
Sam huffed. “You know. Whatever you two– had going on.”
“You thought he knew,” Bucky said.
“Yes,” Sam admitted.
“You think he liked me back,” Bucky said flatly.
Sam didn't respond.
“Sam–”
“Okay, okay,” Sam said. “Yeah, I mean, I couldn’t read the guy’s mind. But he cared about you. A lot.”
If he did, he had a funny way of showing it. Bucky clenched his jaw.
“Uh. You okay?”
Bucky unclenched his jaw. “Yeah.” His voice sounded funny, he noted.
A shuffling noise came across the phone. “So, uh, you want to talk about it?”
“No,” Bucky said.
“Okay,” Sam said slowly. “Anything else you wanted to talk about?”
Bucky glanced over at his laptop. “Actually, yeah. Can you teach me how to install an adblocker?”
“Okay, when I asked if there was anything else, I didn’t mean anything that could be done at a normal time of day. Can we figure that out later? You don’t need to look at porn, like, right now.”
Bucky spluttered. “I am not– That is not why I–”
Bucky could hear Sam yawn over the phone. “Yeah, yeah. Can I go to bed now?”
“Sure,” Bucky said. “Sorry. And thanks.”
“Yep,” Sam said, and hung up.
After Sam hung up, Bucky still couldn’t sleep. He checked his laptop, and realized that when he threw it earlier, he had cracked the screen. He looked through his closet for a change of sheets only to realize his extra sheets were in a pile of dirty laundry that he’d been putting off washing. He considered starting a new load of laundry, but he didn’t feel like falling asleep in the middle of a washer cycle and waking up to find his bedsheets spread across the communal laundry room.
He turned off the lights and flopped into bed, but he couldn’t get comfortable.
Fuck. Bucky rolled back over to his stomach, burying his face in his pillow. Fuck Steve, fuck the 1940s, fuck the whole world.
He pulled out his phone and opened his conversation with the girl he went on a date with the night before. She had texted him earlier, asking if he wanted to meet up again next weekend. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
He closed the conversation without typing anything, but lingered on his phone, looking for another distraction.
should i download grindr? he texted Sam.
The response was instantaneous. NO. A series of other texts followed quickly. Do not download any apps tonight, Sam texted. Wait until the morning. I’ll call you. Please.
Bucky smiled. If nothing else, he still knew how to get a rise out of Sam.
Eventually, he fell asleep. He expected his sleep to be restless, filled with the usual Winter Soldier nightmares, or worse, dreams about Steve. But it wasn't. He didn't dream of anything.
Bucky woke up when his phone rang. He couldn’t remember why, at first, but when he saw Sam’s name on the caller ID, it all came back.
He let his phone go to voicemail. He ignored the followup texts Sam sent him, too.
He opened the curtains to let the light in. He started a load of laundry. He looked up places to get his laptop screen fixed, and when he saw the prices, he decided the crack wasn’t that big anyways.
His phone buzzed again. Sam had texted, So you’re just going to ignore me then? And yeah, that just about summed up the situation, so Bucky didn’t see a need to reply.
He had another missed text from the girl he had been on a date with. Could you do Friday night? You can come over to mine, I don’t have any roommates.
Bucky swallowed down his nausea, hard. He tried to breathe. It had been almost 40 minutes since he started the washer cycle. He went to the laundry room to move his laundry to the dryer, and he left his phone behind. Blasted thing.