Chapter Text
"Welcome back, Captain Rogers."
Steve let out a short laugh as he stepped into the elevator of the Avengers Tower, his duffel in hand and the case for his shield strapped to his back.
"Thank you, JARVIS," he replied, smiling up at the elevator's ceiling. Tony had teased him time and time again for doing so, insisting that JARVIS didn't actually live anywhere near the ceiling, but it was a difficult habit to break. "It's good to be back."
Steve looked at the elevator buttons, not surprised to find that the one indicating his floor was already lit — JARVIS was considerate like that. Steve's smile grew stronger, and he turned around just as the doors slid closed behind him. He let out a slow breath, feeling some of the tension he'd been carrying leech out of his shoulders.
He'd almost lost count of how many weeks it had been since he'd last visited the tower, and he couldn't deny that he'd missed it. While he appreciated the freedom of having his own place in D.C., it still felt unfamiliar sometimes.
Or maybe lonely was a better word?
Steve pushed the thought aside and shifted his grip on the straps of his duffel.
"How have things been?" he asked, just as he felt the almost imperceptible shift of the elevator as it began its ascent. It was practically soundless.
"Eventful," JARVIS replied, polite yet deadpan, as always. "And, on that subject, Sir has requested your presence at your earliest convenience."
Steve raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to be concerned or just confused. He'd spoken to Tony three days ago — when Steve had let him know that he'd be back at the tower soon — but Tony hadn't mentioned any urgent business at the time. Then again, Tony's mood was notoriously fickle and could change in a matter of minutes, let alone days.
"Sure, just let me drop off my bags first," Steve replied, knowing that JARVIS would forward the message to Tony. "Is he in the workshop?"
Tony usually was in the afternoons. But, to Steve's surprise, JARVIS gave a different reply.
"No, his private floor." There was a brief pause, one that felt unusually loaded. "I will inform him of your arrival."
Steve almost frowned, wondering if he was imagining the hint of tension in JARVIS's voice. While Steve was well aware that JARVIS was technically a computer program, he was still disorientingly human sometimes. To the point where it was honestly difficult to know where his limitations were.
But that was something to ponder another time. Steve should focus on dropping off his things and then locating Tony. If there had been tension in JARVIS's voice, Steve knew he would find the answer with Tony.
And if Steve felt an excited little flutter at the thought of seeing Tony again after so many weeks?
Well, then that was his business.
Steve stepped out of the elevator, his gaze sweeping over the familiar sight of Tony's living room. It was immaculate as always, the view breathtaking, but Steve's attention was immediately drawn to the figure standing in front of the windows, looking out at the city.
Tony must not have had any Stark Industries business that day since he was dressed in casual jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, his hair adorably messy. There was also a high chance that he had grease stains on either his clothes or face — or both — but Steve couldn't confirm that yet what with Tony facing the wrong direction.
Steve was smiling again — it seemed to come remarkably easy whenever he was with Tony — and took a couple of steps forward, his hands sliding into his pants pockets.
"You wanted to see me?"
Even though JARVIS must have announced Steve's arrival, Tony still gave a small start when Steve spoke. And, as Tony turned around, his expression looked alarmingly blank, before he must have caught himself. Tony's smile didn't look fake, exactly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, either.
"There you are, Spangles." Tony moved with the same lazy grace as always, his steps smooth as he came sauntering toward Steve. "I hope the trip went well?"
There was a beat of silence before Steve could bring himself to reply, too distracted by the pinch of unease.
"It did."
Despite Tony's no doubt best attempts at hiding it, there was no mistaking the slight tightness in his posture. It was subtle, that much was true, but Steve knew Tony too well not to notice.
Steve was just a little too aware of Tony in general not to notice.
"That's wonderful to—"
"What's wrong?"
Tony blinked, clearly startled to have Steve interrupt him so suddenly. He found himself quickly, however, the smile returning, though it looked noticeably off-center this time.
"Nothing's wrong," Tony replied quickly. He took another step closer, his hands outstretched, as if to soothe — which in no way made Steve's concern settle. "I mean, not more than usual, at least. You know how it is — board meetings, supervillains, world hunger—"
Tony was stalling. Steve didn't know why, but it was clear by the way Tony had started rambling. He usually only did that when he had something to hide or was excited over some new discovery he'd made. And it definitely wasn't the latter this time.
Tony was gesturing, his gaze having flitted off to somewhere else entirely — another sign that he was uncomfortable and trying to hide — and Steve felt a burst of impatience. He took a step forward, putting them within touching distance, and caught Tony's arm mid-gesture. Steve's grip was by no means tight — just his fingers gently grasping the underside of Tony's forearm — but it was more than enough to make Tony cut himself off.
He stiffened, his gaze snapping back to Steve. Tony's eyes were wide, a streak of panic flashing past on his face. Steve felt guilty for that, knowing he was the one who'd caused it. Which was why he made sure to keep his tone as soft as possible when he asked:
"Tony, what's wrong?"
Steve was beginning to feel genuinely worried. His thoughts were spinning, trying to figure out what was making Tony so upset. As shameful as it was to admit, Steve knew he had neglected Tony as of late, having been too caught up in trying to track Bucky down. But he still cared.
Possibly more than he should, given that he still wasn't sure where he and Tony stood.
They were friends, of course, but there had always been a thrum of tension underneath that, from the very first moment they'd met. Some of that had been animosity on Tony's end — frustration at having grown up constantly being compared to Steve — but that had soon melted away, turning into something else. Something challenging and teasing, yet fond.
And still that hum of tension had remained.
It wasn't until after Tony and Pepper had already broken up that Steve had even realized that the tension had the potential to bloom into something else entirely — something more. There had always been a spark of something quite thrilling lurking just underneath the surface of his and Tony's interactions.
But Steve had pushed that down, well aware of how much the breakup had upset Tony. If anything was to happen, it was still too soon. Tony needed more time.
But then, not long after that, Fury had gotten shot and everything Steve had thought he'd known had unraveled. HYDRA was still active. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been compromised.
And Bucky wasn't dead after all.
The latter had definitely rattled Steve the most, throwing his emotions into a tailspin. He'd lost his footing entirely and, amid all that tumult and confusion, it had been easier to just focus on one thing at a time. And the thing highest on his list of priorities had been to find Bucky. Something Steve had hoped would only take a couple of weeks, but had slowly ticked over into months.
He hadn't planned for that — and how it would pull him away from Tony and the other Avengers.
There was so much Steve hadn't planned for. So much he regretted, especially where Tony was concerned.
The familiar stab of guilt was so sharp that Steve had to hold back a flinch, and he was incredibly grateful that Tony couldn't read his thoughts. Steve hated the secrets he was keeping, but now wasn't the time to reveal them. He had to focus on finding out what was troubling Tony.
And, for a second, it looked like Tony was about to deflect again — that thread of panic not quite having settled. But then he swallowed, his gaze briefly flicking down to where Steve was holding on to his arm, and said:
"I have news."
It was Steve's turn to blink. "News?"
Tony swallowed again before nodding, his smile frail. He didn't seem able to meet Steve's eyes.
"It's good news, don't worry." Tony's shifted and, for a moment, Steve thought that Tony was about to pull his arm free. But he ended up doing the exact opposite, his hand instead settling against Steve's forearm, returning the grip. Tony's fingers were warm against Steve's bare skin and it was only through sheer willpower that he was able to hold back a shiver. Tony let out a slow breath. "Good but overwhelming news."
Steve tried to focus on what Tony was saying but, in all honesty, he was a little distracted by the way Tony's thumb was stroking his arm. It was an absent kind of touch, as if Tony wasn't even aware of doing it.
"What happened?" Steve asked, feeling that curl of impatience again.
Tony took a deep breath, as if to brace himself, before looking up at Steve. His gaze was serious enough that Steve couldn't help stiffening. Rare were the times that Tony looked this grave.
"I found Bucky."
Out of all the things Tony could have said, that was the last one Steve had expected. It even took him a couple of seconds before he was able to fully process what he'd heard.
Steve stared at Tony, caught between disbelief and a fierce, breathtaking surge of hope.
"You—" Steve faltered, his mind still not having caught up entirely. "What?"
Tony smiled, though it looked frail, almost painfully so. He shifted closer, his other hand rising, settling on Steve's shoulder — as if to help keep him steady. And, quite frankly, that was probably a good idea.
The ground didn't feel entirely stable under Steve's feet.
"I found Bucky," Tony repeated.
Steve sucked in a sharp breath, his head spinning. There were so many questions he wanted to ask but, in the end, there was only one that truly mattered.
"Where?" Steve could hear the desperation in his own voice but knew he was in a state to attempt to hide it. Besides, he trusted Tony. He didn't have to hide from him. "Where is he?"
Tony hesitated, a flicker of something that looked almost like guilt flashing past in his eyes. But he squared his shoulders in the next second, and his words didn't waver when he replied:
"He's here." Tony held Steve's gaze. "In the tower."
Steve almost wanted to ask if Tony was lying, but he knew Tony wasn't that cruel.
"What? But—" Steve looked up, almost as if expecting Bucky to be standing in one of the faraway corners of Tony's living room. "How—"
He fell silent when Tony's hand moved from his shoulder to instead settle against the side of his neck. The touch, while far from heavy, was enough to ground him. Tony's eyes were intent when Steve looked back at him.
"It's a long story," Tony said, his voice gentle — almost as gentle as his thumb as it brushed against Steve's jaw. "And I can only imagine how confused you are right now, but I promise you, Steve, I'm not lying."
Steve stared down at Tony, his heartbeats loud in his ears.
"I know," was the only thing he could think of saying.
Because he did know that. Tony wouldn't lie to him about something like this — he wouldn't give Steve false hope when he knew how much Bucky meant to him.
Steve's next breath trembled, his thoughts a chaotic mess but, underneath that, he could feel the yearning. The need. It must have been steadily growing ever since Tony had told him the news, but it wasn't until then that it had grown strong enough to pierce through Steve's disorientation.
"Can I see him?"
He wasn't entirely sure why he phrased it like a question — why Tony was suddenly the one who had the power to bring Bucky to him — but it honestly didn't matter. As long as Steve got to see Bucky, he didn't care.
Tony smiled, his thumb making another comforting sweep along Steve's jaw.
"Of course," he replied. Tony's pretty, brown eyes were shiny, as if he was trying not to cry. "You wait here and I'll go get him, okay?"
Steve immediately wanted to protest — afraid that the moment he was left alone, he'd wake up and find this was nothing but a dream. His desperation got the better of him and it wasn't until he saw Tony wince that he realized he'd tightened his grip around Tony's arm. Steve hurried to let go, swallowing down the flare of guilt.
"Sorry," he mumbled, almost tripping over the word. "I'll wait."
Thankfully, Tony didn't seem hurt or alarmed, his smile comforting.
"Okay. I'll go get him." His hand slid away from Steve's neck as he took a step back. Tony looked unsure for a second, as if doubting whether it was safe to leave Steve on his own. Another beat passed before he let go of Steve's arm, a touch of reassurance in his voice as he said: "It won't take long."
Steve nodded, his throat tight. A part of him still wanted to follow Tony when he turned and walked away — heading for the corridor leading toward the guestrooms — but he forced himself not to. If nothing else, he needed a moment to center himself.
His thoughts were still spinning, hundreds of questions screaming for attention inside his head. How had Tony found Bucky? Where had he found him? And how come Bucky was there now, in the tower? When had Tony found him?
Steve swallowed and ran a shaking hand through his hair. He'd been looking for Bucky for months by then, his progress so slow that he'd almost given up hope entirely. And, all of a sudden, it struck Steve that he'd never really considered what he'd do once he'd actually found him. Though he supposed that might be just as well since he had no idea what shape Bucky would be in.
The last time they'd seen each other, Bucky had tried to kill him. But he'd also saved Steve's life.
Would Bucky still insist that they didn't know each other?
Steve squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe through the sudden clench of pain. He knew he'd have to take things slow. Even if it hurt, he had to make sure not to overwhelm Bucky.
They would have to take things one step at a time.
But Steve couldn't deny that he could already feel restlessness crawling, urging him to march after Tony and find Bucky himself. Steve wasn't used to being idle. And he was still so confused by this whole situation.
Why was Bucky in the Avengers Tower to begin with?
At the same time, that had to be a good sign, right? Bucky wasn't trying to run away this time. And, judging by how quickly Tony had agreed to go and fetch him, Bucky wanted to see Steve.
Steve felt a breathtaking swoop of hope at that thought.
He wanted to see Bucky so bad it hurt.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity — but couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes — Steve heard the sound of approaching footsteps behind him. He knew immediately that they weren't Tony's. They were too quiet — probably more or less soundless to anyone who didn't have heightened hearing.
Steve took a trembling breath, his heart racing in his chest — beating so hard his ribs were beginning to ache. He didn't turn around and instead just stood there, staring out the window without really seeing anything. All of his attention was focused on those soft, careful footsteps.
They eventually came to a slow halt, a brief silence settling over the room.
"Steve?"
Only then did Steve realize he'd been holding his breath. He struggled not to let it out in a sharp, shocked rush, his heart clenching.
He hadn't expected that — for Bucky to call him by his name. Just hearing Bucky's voice again would have been enough to bring Steve off-balance, but to know that, on some level, Bucky recognized him?
It felt too good to be true.
But the flare of hope it caused was enough to make him turn around, perhaps faster than he should have. His gaze found Bucky and, without thinking — driven by instinct and desperate yearning — Steve took a step forward.
He caught himself in the next second, forcing himself to stop, his hands clenching at his sides. Bucky stood a couple of feet away — closer than Steve had expected — looking so much more relaxed than Steve had dared hope for. There was some tension in Bucky's shoulders, sure, but he also had his hands casually tucked into the pocket of his hoodie, a couple of tendrils of hair having slipped from the bun at the back of his neck.
And, most importantly, his gaze met Steve's without hesitation. There was pain there — a guarded type of blankness that Steve didn't recognize — but also a fragile flicker of hope that only fanned the one Steve could feel in his own chest.
Steve didn't know what to do. He hadn't been prepared for this — to turn around and find someone who looked so disorientingly like the man he remembered from all those years ago. Deep down, he knew it wasn't the same Bucky, but this was close enough to it that the sight of him took Steve's breath away, every latent emotion suddenly flaring back to life inside of him.
Steve could only stand there as a chaotic mess of fondness, relief, yearning, grief, and love swept over him.
"Bucky..."
He didn't realize he'd spoken at first, but the way Bucky's expression shifted — almost crumpling — proved that he must have. Bucky swallowed and, for a second, swayed forward, as if he wanted nothing more than to cross the distance between them.
"Yeah." Bucky's voice sounded hoarse and his smile wobbled, close to cracking. "Sorry for taking so long."
There were tears in his eyes and so much barely curbed desperation that Steve could feel his heart breaking.
"I'm so sorry, Steve." Bucky drew a sharp breath — so sharp it looked like it hurt. "I'm sorry for—"
Steve's resolve shattered.
Thankfully, Bucky didn't look surprised or threatened when Steve took the first stride toward him. Instead, Bucky hurried to match it, a flash of relief pushing out the desperation in his eyes. He pulled his hands from the pocket of his hoodie — sunlight catching on metal for a brief moment — but Steve didn't care.
All that mattered was that, a split second later, Steve could wrap his arms around Bucky and hold him for the first time in years. It was a little different with Bucky being so much broader, the subtle whir of his metallic arm also a new addition, but he smelled the same.
It still felt the same.
It was still Bucky.
Steve's breath hitched, only for it to tip over into a half-choked sob the next moment. His arms tightened around Bucky, pulling him even closer — Bucky seamlessly matching his desperation, metal fingers twisting into the fabric of Steve's t-shirt. Steve buried his face against Bucky's shoulder, feeling it shake as Bucky fought against his own sobs.
"Fuck, I've missed you."
Bucky's words were weak yet held so much vehemence — so much emotion — that Steve felt his throat tighten. He nodded, squeezing tighter, terrified of having to let go. He didn't feel the least bit ashamed over his tears, the relief overpowering everything.
The only thing that mattered was that he had Bucky back.
"I've missed you too," Steve whispered.
Bucky let out a noise that Steve couldn't identify at first but, eventually, he realized it was a laugh. It was faint, barely more than a breathless huff, and thick with emotion. But, at the same time, it was one of the most wonderful sounds Steve had ever heard. Because he could hear the relief in it — the hope and giddiness.
The happiness.
And Steve could only agree. He was so fucking happy he barely knew how to contain it.
Bucky was back.
Eventually, after some of the desperation had subsided, they moved to sit down on Tony's couch. Steve was grateful, the rush of emotion having left him a little shaky and not entirely steady on his feet.
Thankfully, even as they sat down, Bucky stayed close. His knee pushing against Steve's was a small but incredibly comforting point of contact. Steve reveled in it.
And he couldn't seem to stop staring at Bucky.
It felt surreal to suddenly have him right there, within touching distance. Not to mention that he looked so much better than when Steve had seen him in D.C. There was still something haunted in his eyes — and his gaze occasionally flicked to random corners of the room, as if to check for threats — but he spoke with a steady calmness and there was a small, fond smile on his lips.
He looked so much like the old Bucky that Steve was honestly a little speechless.
And while he didn't want to push, not sure what was safe to discuss and not, Steve had to ask why Bucky was at the Avengers Tower. And just how Tony had found him.
The story Bucky told him sounded so unbelievable that, in the end, Steve didn't have much choice but to believe it.
No one would make up a story that outrageous.
Still, to hear that Tony, on pure chance, had accepted Bucky's tech support call and that the two of them had started talking — which eventually led to them finding out who the other was — was nothing short of astounding. But also good, since it seemed like those months they had spent talking were one of the reasons why Bucky had been able to recover so many of his memories and make so much progress.
Bucky made it very clear that a lot of it was thanks to Tony and his unflinching support.
Steve was ashamed to admit that he felt a brief pinch of jealousy at that. He hated himself for it but, at the same time, he couldn't deny that some part of him wanted to be the one Bucky leaned on. They had been there for each other for as long as Steve could remember — each other's stable foundation — and it hurt a little to think that he might have been replaced.
Especially since what they'd had back during the war had ended not out of choice, but because Bucky had fallen off that train.
Steve's sheets had still been smelling of Bucky when he'd dragged himself out of bed for that final mission which led to him crashing into the ocean.
The thought made Steve's chest clench, a mess of emotions suddenly tangling inside of him. His internal unrest made it difficult to focus on what Bucky was saying, who had now moved on to explain how he'd ended up in the tower after HYDRA had almost caught him on the streets of New York.
A tendril of dread wrapped around Steve's heart. A couple of years had passed for him by then, but it wasn't like he'd ever stopped loving Bucky. The fact that he hadn't was one of the reasons why he'd been so determined to find him — and maybe even why Steve had subconsciously allowed himself to get distracted from his budding feelings for Tony.
What would happen now that Bucky was back?
Did Bucky still feel the same? Or had his years with HYDRA changed him so much that he no longer wanted to be with Steve? Could they even continue to be together after everything that had happened?
Not to mention that the thought of simply turning his back on Tony left a nauseating taste at the back of Steve's tongue.
Steve tried to push those insistent thoughts aside, knowing now wasn't the time. Bucky had only just returned and they both needed a moment to calm down and adjust. Everything was still too fresh — too overwhelming and confusing.
There was no rush.
Steve swallowed and nodded along as Bucky continued to explain how he'd reluctantly stayed at the tower at first but, eventually, decided to stay. The story was told in very brief strokes and Steve couldn't help feeling that there was something missing — a vital detail that Bucky wasn't telling him.
Why, exactly, had Bucky decided to stay?
While Steve would have liked to think it was to see him, he could tell that wasn't the case. Or, more correctly, it didn't seem to be Bucky's only reason for staying. Probably not even his main reason.
Steve felt another curl of dread.
But, before he had time to sink too deep into that, another thought struck him.
"Hang on. Just how long have you been staying here without telling me?"
Steve couldn't hold back the hint of accusation.
Bucky stiffened, clearly a little taken aback. Then, after a beat, he winced, at least having the decency to look contrite.
"About five weeks," he replied.
That hurt. It hurt a lot.
Steve had even talked to Tony several times during those five weeks. But he'd never thought to mention that Bucky was in the tower with him? Instead, he'd just let Steve continue to search for someone he obviously wouldn't find?
Then, in the next second, Steve was overcome with guilt instead, once again ashamed over how selfish he was being.
Bucky had clearly been struggling and, most likely, had needed that time to work through everything that was weighing him down. And no matter how much it hurt to know that Steve wasn't the one Bucky had turned to in order to help him through it, that didn't give Steve any right to complain.
Bucky came first.
And, mostly likely, Tony had kept it a secret for Bucky's sake.
"I'm sorry. It wasn't that I wanted to keep it from you, I just..."
Steve shook his head, but he couldn't quite meet Bucky's eyes.
"It's okay. I understand." Steve could hear the telltale flatness in his own voice and made an effort to soften it. "You needed time."
There was a beat, the silence hanging heavy between them. Steve looked at Bucky's hands, tracing the curving lines of the metal plates with his gaze.
"It was my fault, not Tony's."
Steve looked up, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. That seemed to unnerve Bucky, who soon shook his head.
"He hated keepin' it from you," Bucky continued. "He never said so, but I could tell."
That did soothe some of Steve's hurt, he could admit. At the same time, he couldn't say he was surprised. Tony was a lot of things — not all of them good — but he didn't seem particularly fond of keeping secrets, possibly because he'd been hurt by dishonesty so many times.
That familiar stab of guilt was by no means unexpected, but still sharp enough that it took Steve a second before he was able to reply — pushing away the reminder of his own selfish shortcomings.
"Yeah, that sounds like Tony."
The comment caused a spark of delighted fondness in Bucky's eyes — one that, for a second, made Steve's heart stop cold in his chest.
He'd seen that look before but, usually, it had been directed at him.
Was that the detail that Bucky wasn't telling him? The reason why Bucky had decided to stay at the tower?
Steve held his breath, once again not knowing what to do. Every fiber of his being was screaming that he must be mistaken. He'd misinterpreted. And, in a moment of cowardice, he chose denial.
He shoved the thought down, locked it away, and hoped he would never have to acknowledge it again.
He prayed he was wrong.
Thankfully, Bucky didn't seem to have noticed Steve's brief moment of earth-shattering panic.
"Yeah, so if you're going to be angry at someone, be angry at me, okay?" There was an undertone of teasing to Bucky's words that, while somewhat tentative, did also warm Steve's heart.
And Steve could do nothing but nod, while pretending that it didn't feel like his chest was about to cave in on itself.
"Well, if you insist," he deadpanned, hoping his smile looked more sincere than it felt.
And it must have, since it lured a short laugh out of Bucky. Which was a lovely sound but, somehow, hearing it only increased the pressure building inside Steve's chest. He knew he should be happy — and he was — but he also had a feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated than he had expected or wanted. In more ways than one.
"Ya' little shit," Bucky replied, but his tone was fond.
Steve smiled in response but, deep down, he couldn't shake that sense of foreboding.
Bucky had come back to him but instead of bringing closure, it felt like the beginning of a new cycle of pain and confusion.
Steve prayed he was wrong about that, too.