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When the news about war ending were announced, along with overwhelming joy and relief, came anxiety. The same kind of anxiety John Egan felt when he left home. The fear of leaving something behind, saying goodbye to people he didn't know if he will ever see again - and even if he does, to them he will never be the same, because the Bucky they knew stopped existing the moment he left a plane after the first mission. Now, he could say hello to them again and let them welcome the new person he became, but he feared another goodbyes instead of celebrating the hellos that were about to come.
It's not like he felt disappointed because the war ended. He hated these damn fights, he hated the violence, hated the blood he and a lot of good men he met in England spilled - not only their own, but also the one they had on their hands.
Some of these good men didn't make it to hear the official radio announcements declaring the peace coming back to the haunted by death Europe. Some of them died of the wounds and some of them, like John, had to live with these wounds the war left in their hearts. They will have to live with memories of the horror they saw, the tragedy they witnessed, the nightmare they experienced not only in their dreams, but also in reality.
And also, despite how much he hated everything that happened to him after landing in England, in the middle of the war, surrounded by blood and violence, John Egan found love.
He could never describe himself as a loving person. The word lover was never made for him, never ever in his life suited him. Bucky never loved deeply. Royalty came to him easier than love, he was just like a dog that can protect the hand that feeds him, be excited while meeting strangers, but also a dog that can bite when needed. So he liked people fast, but also short, with the intensity of longing for new experiences, but never with the depth. Never long, always quickly forgetting, moving on and opening the new chapters before closing the doors of previous.
Love will find you unexpectedly, was the sentence John heard from his mother a few days after his eighteenth birthday. When asked about the girl he brought home a few times, he answered that she wasn't worth any attention anymore. He could see the disappointment in the woman's eyes, when she heard such words coming off from her son's mouth, about another woman. He told her he couldn't control how he felt. She warned him that when the time comes, he won't be ready for what his heart will need.
And for sure, he wasn't ready to fall in love just a few weeks before leaving the States and going to England as a soldier who will fight for justice.
But being in love with Gale Cleven came naturally. There was no personality crisis, no doubting who he is anymore for loving a man. He simply accepted it, because loving someone like Buck, a man he named after himself, just felt right.
At first, it was slightly confusing - not being in the center of attention but having someone in the center of attention instead. Just like his mother said, Bucky wasn't prepared for the emotions filling his chest, for the butterflies trying to find a space in his stomach, nor for being just so royal in a romantic way. Seeing girls in the base or during his days off in London and not being interested at all, them being for him just another faces that crossed his way - that was something new, something weird and something that gave him some hope in himself.
Maybe there is a chance he can be a good person in the future, if he can love someone so deeply.
Gale came to the training camp with a sweet, blonde girl on his side, but left it with a wild, brunette man in his heart. He didn't tell her immediately, but when some time passed, mission after mission, the letters started to come to Buck less often until they stopped arriving at all.
That was the end of John's fear of being replaced. The only fear that stayed with him, holding onto his body like a goddamn parasite, was the fear of not making it one day.
And maybe, just maybe, John's punishment for all the sins he did in his life, was worrying too much since he met Buck. Because after they finally made it to the end of the war, he and Gale, together, he started thinking about what would happen afterwards.
Even though they talked about it multiple times - the plans they made together, the life they wanted to build, it seemed too distant for Bucky to consider it possible.
Maybe that was an explanation for the weird feeling he felt somewhere inside his stomach, like someone dropped a stone there and that stone just wanted to drag him down, when he heard the door closing behind his back. He was standing in the middle of the still empty, cold living room. The London behind the window's glass was finally trying to come back to normal life, and so they were.
''I would like to stay in Europe, though,'' Gale told him one night after the mission, in a room full of their friends, not even ashamed of talking about their shared future while others might be listening. Nobody was listening, though, every one of them too focused on drinking deadly amounts of whisky just to feel fully that they're still standing there, alive. ''What do you think?''
''London?'' John guessed, sounding more sober than he actually was. Buck just nodded, smiling softly, and Bucky still remembers how this smile made his heart throb dangerously in his chest.
That was when they made up their minds. Gale stuck with the choice of staying in London instead of going back to the States, at least for the first few years after the war, and Bucky - Bucky would follow him into the deepest circles of hell if that meant staying with him, so he never complained.
But Gale only dragged him to the living room he was standing in and it belonged to them.
It was theirs.
It was home.
And John never in his life was more afraid that in one second he would wake up, open his eyes and see a ceiling of his old room, and realize all of this was just a very long, very complicated dream. The thoughts of Gale being only a creation of his imagination made him feel so sick, he twitched when a warm hand touched his back, right in between his tensed shoulders.
Home.
''So this is it?'' he asked, his voice raw and hoarse.
Gale chuckled somewhere near his ear. John saw his smile and just cling to him, pressing his chest to Buck's side, absorbing the warmth and comfort while the wind started to sway the balding upper branches of the trees outside.
''Looks like this is it, John,'' the answer was short, yet it made the stone in Bucky's stomach feel a little bit less heavy.
John's hand found its way to Buck's hair, brushing his soft golden bangs back, meeting his gaze in the half of a breath that suddenly got stuck in his lungs. Gale finally looked young again, the horror slowly leaving his face, making space for the softness and prettiness he used to have in training camp. This was the face Bucky fell in love with and even if he still loved it, no matter how it changed, it just felt good to see this version of Buck again.
Maybe one day they won't wake up in the middle of the night, bodies cold and sweaty, hearts racing in their chests from the nightmares - the memories - of the war. Maybe one day, they will heal. Maybe one day they will look in the mirror and see the kids who met in their shared room for the first time, stupidly happy at the thoughts of becoming heroes, stupidly naive to fall in love while preparing to go to war.
These were the maybes. But John's sures was, among others, the fact that they finally do have a whole time in the world to wait for that without worrying about tomorrow. Because tomorrow Bucky will wake up first and welcome Gale with a breakfast and it will look like this for the rest of their life.
Healing is a process and it started the moment they dropped the last bag with their stuff on the wooden floor that now was theirs. In the house they can call home.
If John Egan was a dog, he was a homeless one until he met Gale Cleven. Since they were together, no matter where they were, John had home.
Because his home was him.
Gale's mouth was warm on John's neck later that day, with sun slowly coming down, hiding behind the clouds, the last reflections of orange and red light sinking shyly into their bedroom by the window they didn't even have time to hang curtains on yet. The colorful lights falling on their bodies bathed both of them in the last waves of warmth that day before their own feelings set them of fire.
After eternity of hiding, of shy touches under the tables, of clinging to themselves and constantly standing on the thin border between seeming like really close friends and something more while having physical contact in public, it felt unreal to finally be able to have a space that was just for them. A place where they could share kisses in the kitchen while waiting for the water to boil, a bathroom to shave together, a bed where Buck could just sit, pressing his back to the wall, while Bucky stayed on his lap, kissing him in every way he wanted, from the open, loud ones to the wet ones, to these that are tender and slow, tongue against tongue, choking on their own moans when both their hands dived into their opened pants.
A place where they could take it slow. Without worrying about someone coming in, Bucky could explore Buck’s body like it’s their first time again, getting drunk from drinking the lust from Gale’s skin, feel fingers gently pulling his hair, hear the prettiest song possible coming from the back of Buck’s throat while he takes him fully, in every way he wanted, taking his time to make Gale drunk with pleasure as well.
The green walls of their bedroom kept their secrets, holding their moans away from the world. John wanted to thank them for that.
He remembered how he used to lie in the bed before missions, wondering if he will really be the one chosen by Gale, getting eaten alive by the idea of Buck choosing her instead. Back then, he found comfort in thinking that if it happens, then maybe in another life they will be happy and safe together.
Lying in their bed later that night, their first night in their first flat, with Gale's head on his naked chest, John smiled to himself while looking at the moon.
They didn't need another life.
The one that was waiting from them since this day was enough.
John Egan fell asleep with a honest smile on his face for the first time since forever, thinking about the fact that he will see Gale Cleven getting old and that they will stand in front of the mirror one day in the future, see the gray strands of their hair and just kiss, glad that they lived long enough to become grumpy old men who still sing together to the morning cups of coffee.