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Steve's not drunk, but everyone else currently gathered in the Avengers tower's main floor might be.
Thor is inhumanly drunk somehow no one even wants to think about and on his eighth bottle of rum.
Tony is the kind of man who can be ten miles past hammered and still be coherent, so who knows with him. (Though between himself and Clint there's a lot of Vodka gone.)
Clint and Natasha are also impossible, though Clint is slowly slurring his words and Natasha is leaning on him like he's holding her up, but there's a brightness to her smiles that's entirely too Natasha to be chalked up just to alcohol.
Bruce is pretty sober, but with Tony collapsed across his lap it probably won't last long. (They're on the couch over there, Tony sprawled alllll over Pepper and Bruce, with Natasha and Clint on the floor to the left. Thor had an armchair he was slouched over in a way that could only be considered 'kingly'. Somehow. Steve had managed a perch on one of the other couches, of course, nursing a beer that did nothing to him.)
The game of the night was 'Never have I Ever' with a 'spill the beans twist'. Meaning, of course, that Clint and Tasha were being nosy and insisting everyone spill their stories. Initially some of them had thought it a terrible idea, namely Steve and Bruce, but Tony - always him, really, Stark was a manipulative bastard in the best way like that- had convinced them with something about 'team-building' and all it took was a grin from Tony and a clap on the back by Thor and it was happening. Tony had gone first. (no, really? Who'd have guessed.)
"Never have been arrested!" he declared, staring RIGHT at Steve. Steve had just laughed.
Everyone had taken a drink of their choice. Tony had seemed flabbergasted, but Steve had just smiled at him. "Oh, come on, Bucky and I got arrested for starting a block fight when we were around thirteen. Not our fault, but they thought our boys and us were the source."
There had been silence, and then Tony had giggled. "Seriously? A block brawl? Badass. Cap's got street cred."
Steve had smiled and shaken his head. "Not really. I lost a tooth and almost a leg, and they broke Bucky's arm. Cops only let us off when his sister squealed on Morgan Toole as having started it..." There was more stunned silence after that, but Clint had eventually grinned and toasted his beer at Steve.
"To the star-spangled street urchin, huh?"
Steve could drink to that. He did, cheerfully. It was nostalgic.
The next few questions had been more tame. "Never have I ever been to all the continents!" "Never have I ever accidentally exploded something." "Never have I ever intentionally exploded something." Again, on that one, they'd seemed to expect Steve would refrain, but again, he'd taken a drink of the beer and raised an eyebrow.
''Come on, I fought in world war two. I intentionally blew up a lot of stuff." He paused and glanced at his beer. "Okay, Dernier and Gabe blew up a lot of stuff, but I helped."
Natasha had laughed at that, and Bruce had elbowed Tony with a grin. They really were relaxing, Clint was cracking grins and razzing Nat, who kept kicking her partner and making little jokes at Pepper. Pepper was laughing and unrestrained, so different from the woman Steve normally saw at Stark industries. Tony was all over her, affectionate and sleazy as ever but there was always something in the way he smiled at Pepper- and Bruce, too, the way Tony was all over him Steve might have gotten the wrong idea if he didn't know better (or did he), but it seemed to be- great for him, actually? Bruce was relaxing, laughing at the jokes, smacking Tony just the way you'd expect two age-old friends to- (His mind flashed back to a brunet with a cocky grin and an army uniform, and Steve finished the rest of his beer all at once on the futile hope it would do something.)
"Okay, come on, come on, Thor, I want to see what you do here, Never have I ever done property damage further than a street block..." Bruce had said, already taking a drink. Thor had laughed, and again, everyone had taken a drink, laughing and cheering.
"Too easy!" Natasha had purred, smirking at them. "Never have I ever..."
The questions only got racier and weirder the more drunk the rest got. Thor didn't quite get the game, not even slightly, but his stories were ASTOUNDING. (Actually maybe he got the game all too well, but he really seemed to like sharing his stories, and it was readily becoming apparent that teenage Asgardians raised a lot more hell than most modern humans did. Especially sneaky Crown Princes and their even sneakier brothers.) Natasha had such a good poker face no one seemed to be able to tell if she was making shit up or not, though the way Clint kept looking at her seemed to be throwing off everyone's radar.
A few rather fascinating tales later -the part about Clint and the Donkey and the- Steve had actually tuned it out midway through, and was so busy counting down times tables that he almost missed the question.
"Yo! Never have I ever had a homosexual experience." Apparently Tony was drunk enough to just laugh this one off as he took a drink, and Pepper just looked at Natasha and went RED as she took a drink. Nat had smirked and thrown back a shot as well, while Bruce had looked embarrassed and Clint had just grinned. Bruce hadn't partaken in a drink, while Clint had raised his glass and just said, with a regretful sigh, "The first rule of SHIELD training is not to talk about SHIELD training."
Thor had shrugged and downed another half a bottle. "You, thunder god?" Tony slurred.
"Aye! My shield brothers in Asgard care little for things as gender, we find out partners based on preference and compatibility! I've had as many men as I have women, just ask Sif! We've even shared. Oh, Jodran, how I miss thee." He had said incredibly fondly. The blond had grinned, clearly thrilled. Bruce had gone quite red and jumped when Tony had clapped him on the shoulder. The scientist-slash-hulk had stammered and just glanced at Steve.
Steve smiled thinly, and threw back another drink.
THAT had a good number of the room going, making noises and immediately bringing up questions.
"Captain America? Really?"
"You, Stevo?" Tony said, rolling off the couch with surprising agility given his current state of inebriation to fix himself another drink but shooting Steve a grin. "Captain America batting for the other team?"
Steve shrugged. "Both teams, thank you, I like women JUST fine." He said. The expectant looks from his teammates clearly insisted that he go on, however. "Well, I mean, ...it was New Year's Eve, right. I was already drunk, a lightweight back then. Forty-two, I think. Right before... yeah. Bucky and me, right, we were too broke to afford to go to any of the real swanky parties, so it was jus' me and him, on the roof of our building with a bottle of wine." he took a breath, He remembered the night way too clearly, even to this day.
It had been the winter right before Bucky had been scheduled to ship out that spring. They were miserable and thrilled, and Bucky had wasted his last dollar getting that wine for them, insisting they celebrate instead of moping on New Year's Eve. It had been cold, and Steve had been wrapped in Bucky's too-big coat while his best pal stood at the edge of the roof and screamed triumphantly at the city. Steve had been shivering in the cold despite the burning warmth of the wine in his system, but Bucky had whooped and swung him around, dragging him to the edge of the building with him and insisting they look out over the city. Steve remembered the way his friend's arms had held him tight, the smile on Bucky's face that had been brighter than any of the fireworks.
"Y'excited Steve? This'll be the year everything changes for us!" Bucky declared. Steve had grinned, and nodded. (And ignored the spike of fear and sadness in the pit of his stomach. Bucky was everything he had left and he'd joined the Army while Steve was still a reject by every branch everywhere. Year it would change, sure. Steve would finally lose him, too. He didn't think change was sounding too great.)
"Yeah, Buck. Gonna be great..." He'd managed in response. Bucky had twisted to look at him, snagging the bottle of booze back and downing it.
"Don't look so glum. New year, new start, new everything. It'll be great." Bucky had promised him again, tugging Steve in close and pointing up at some of the fireworks going off in the distance.
Steve was staring down at his beer, not looking at the rest of the team. "You know how it is, you get drunk, sometimes you get a little stupid? I was excited, drunk, and at midnight I just planted one on him." Steve laughed, and grinned at the team with a cheerful air of nonchalance he didn't feel at all. He was really good at that expression. Cheerful deflection was apparently his specialty when he tried. "I don't even know if you'd count it as an 'experience', really."
At midnight. He remembered that night. Bucky had grinned and they'd laughed.
"Too bad we don't have any dames with us, huh? Supposed to be good luck to kiss someone at midnight!" Bucky had laughed. Steve had too, and they'd fallen to their backs on the rooftop, laughing their heads off, and Steve had realized it then- nothing new, actually. He loved Bucky. More than anything, he loved his best friend. And now... now Bucky was shipping out in a few months that were going to go way too fast, off to Europe to shoot and get shot and maybe never come back, and it would be the first time in nearly fifteen years Steve would actually be without him.
Steve was drunk, but the idea of never seeing Bucky again just- that wouldn't happen. It was going to be the year everything changed.
"Good luck." Steve had said, and grabbed Bucky's face and kissed him. That part was exactly as he'd told the team. Steve Rogers had planted one on James Buchanan Barnes on the rooftop at midnight on new years in 1942.
The rest of the avengers laughed, said their bits, moved on. Clint had grinned at him, and winked at Natasha, in a 'we all know how that is' way. Pepper had giggled, and had NOT been able to look at Nat, there was something there Tony was explaining, Christmas party of some ill repute...
They moved on, Bruce asking something about traveling to India or something, and Steve couldn't find a good reason to pay attention.
All he could remember was the cold, gritty rooftop under his knees and Bucky's lips warm against his. He'd tasted like alcohol and smoke and soap and aftershave, like everything that made him Bucky. When Steve finally realized it he'd snapped back, like he'd just punched him, to find Bucky watching him with those unfairly blue eyes, lips quirked into a sad, kind of confused smile.
"You really are two sheets to the wind, hey Stevie?" He'd said, looking anywhere but at his best friend. Steve had hated himself right there, for ruining the moment- everything had been fine, and he'd gone and- he was lucky he could chalk it up to the booze.
"S-sorry, Buck, I just-" He'd tugged Bucky's coat closer around him, apologetic and still somehow hating how much he loved the fact that the article of clothing still smelled like Bucky.
"Hey! Hey, you're my...you're my best guy, Steve. Don't look like that..." and Bucky had pulled him in close again, hugging him, and Steve had lost it. They didn't say much, not right then, not that way, and really, not ever, but that night, they'd both understood it. Bucky kept Steve close to him, chin resting on the blond's head, and Steve had let himself sit there and soak in Bucky's heat on the cold rooftop. (He was always really warm, no matter what it was like outside. In their little shared apartment, Bucky spent most of the winters in the same bed as Steve, letting his pal soak up all the extra heat he put out when they couldn't afford things like better blankets or coats. It had gotten them through a lot of winters. But they were best pals, it's what they did. Bucky would have lost everything for Steve, what did he mind sharing a bed with him for a few months if it meant Steve didn't catch pneumonia, didn't spend his nights shivering so hard Buck could hear his teeth chattering?)
"I don't want to lose you, Buck. I'm sorry." Steve had mumbled.
Bucky had laughed, and he had felt the rumble of it in Bucky's chest, where he was pressed in tight and warm. "You'd never lose me, dollface." Bucky had said, joking, as they'd stood to make their way back to the apartment. He'd ruffled Steve's hair and tipped the blond's head back, forcing Steve to look at him. "I...ah. Hell with it."
Natasha and Tony were arguing something about an event in Norway in 2004, back and forth claiming different details about one of the stories they were telling.
Steve didn't hear them. He had his head in his hands, and all he could remember was the way Bucky had kissed him that night.
It hadn't been perfect. Sloppy, even, which was weird because Bucky was such a tomcat Steve never would have expected him to be so clumsy-nervous. But he had been, at least until Steve had fixed it, tilted his head so they fit together better, grabbing him by the suspenders and pulling him down into it. It was the best kiss Steve had ever had, and it wasn't soft or sweet or romantic. It was the scrape of Bucky's whiskers against his jaw, and the cold wind cutting through the coat on the rooftop in Brooklyn with the fireworks still going off behind them. It was Bucky's fingers holding his shoulders tight enough to bruise, and the kiss that lasted hours and only seconds. It was James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers and it was everything they'd never said and more. It was kissing his best friend on the roof at midnight on New Years and getting kissed back. It was a promise of something they'd never speak of again, but had always known was there.
It was the year everything changed.
"Steve? Steeeeeve? Yo, CAP!" Tony's voice cut through his thoughts, an Steve hastily brushed a hand over his face like he were wiping away weariness instead of seventy years of missing him.
"Sorry. Zoned out. I'm a little tired...I think I should cut out here." Steve had said, standing without further explanation and heading back to his suite of the tower.
The elevator was a fancy thing, all glass and fancy machinery and a quiet, streamlined design. Steve didn't hit the button for his floor, taking it to the roof instead.
It was chilly, cold even for a January night, as he stepped out on to the observation deck near the helipad. Steve squinted up at the sky. No fireworks. No cheap wine. No Bucky. That year had been the one where everything had changed. Erskine's program. The war. Being Captain America. The commandos... Bucky. After he'd saved him, when they were in camp, planning, Bucky had told him, when they got back, they'd celebrate their new New Year in style. Fancy dinner and good wine and they'd go see the fireworks.
Steve had laughed, and told him to stop being such a loser. Bucky had just thrown an arm over his shoulder and grinned. "I just wanna see how much my best guy's changed now that he's not some skinny kid who has to borrow my coat, huh?"
There had been fireworks, or something close enough, in Paris. Flares. But they had been alone, together, and the kiss had been just as good. Bucky didn't mind having to lean up for it this time, and there were no suspenders and both of them had needed a shave. It was warm and wet, and neither of them were drunk. (Neither of them were drunk, and neither of them pretended the state of their inebriation had ever matter in the first place.)
He remembered the thrill it had sent through him, when Bucky smiled at him like that, the secret only the two of them had had. He also remembered watching Bucky fall. He always could. One of the clearest memories in his head, even when the ice had faded some of the sharpness of other things. Coney Island seemed permanently bathed in evening light and sometimes Steve thought he could remember the video reels of the war better than his own memories of it. But he could remember Bucky. And then the last few words he'd said to the presumed love of his life. (The lady of his life. He loved Peggy. But he'd also watched the man he loved fall into an abyss and had lost him forever at that point.)
He remembered waking up. The city was a lot different than it had been back then. Now it was tall and loud and metal, but still New York. No one would care if two guys were best pals, or something more. Not now. But it was decades too late for that to matter.
He leaned on the railing and looked out over New York. He was going to DC in a few days, with Nat. Captain America would raise his mighty shield again, for a new world he still sort of felt a stranger in. He was a relic. Should have fallen off that train with him. Should have looked for him. Should have... there were too many should haves. Bucky was dead. SHIELD needed him. It was nice to be needed. Left him less time to sit around on a rooftop and think about kissing a man who had been dead for longer than he'd been alive. (If you didn't count the ice as living. He didn't.)
He thought about it anyway.
Tony was right. The view up on the roof was nice.
He thought he could see Brooklyn from here.