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Stevie was different now.
Sure, Bucky was proud of him, had never been so grateful or relieved to see him when he appeared as if by magic at Azzano, but he didn’t belong to him anymore. Now Steve was everyone’s.
There were cameras and photographers everywhere, grateful soldiers, puffed up generals, flirty dames and excitable fans, as well as every single civilian they came across.
Everyone adored Steve.
No… that wasn’t right. He adored Steve.
Quite possibly so did Peggy Carter and the rest of the Commandoes.
Everyone else just adored Captain America, both what he was in front of the cameras and what he represented for their scientific and military advantage.
None of them really saw who Stevie was, and in a small, selfish way Bucky was grateful for that. No matter how much of himself Steve gave to the world, there was a part of himself – his old self – that only belonged to Bucky.
Yeah, at times he was jealous, he could admit it. There was a time that dames had thrown themselves at him, men had wanted to be his friend and all eyes had been on what he did, but now it was as if the roles had been reversed and Steve was the one in the limelight, while Bucky was ignored. The jealousy never lasted long though. He was happy that people were finally seeing how incredible Stevie was; he just wished they had been able to see that before.
In some ways though, things hadn’t changed at all.
Steve was still hopeless at talking to dames (again, something Bucky was secretly pleased hadn’t improved), he was still taking on bullies without a forethought as to his own safety and Bucky still had his back.
It was as if it had become his sole purpose in life – to trail around after Steve, picking him up after all the destruction he caused.
(It constantly amused him that people thought Steve was the one who had trailed after him.)
Cricking his neck, Bucky stood up from the chair he had been perched in for the last hour and sauntered over to Steve while the director took a break from filming.
As Captain America, he’d had to stand there and look imposing and trustworthy – an odd combination, Bucky thought – while encouraging the American public to do their part and support the Army, either through buying war bonds, working in factories or women taking over the men’s jobs until they returned home, safe and victorious (a pipe dream, for sure). He was so awkward though, it was hilarious. With each take, the catcalls from the rest of the Howlies had grown louder and more vicious, garnering some surprised and shocked looks from the film crew. Still, it made Steve relax and laugh, something he had been failing to do convincingly on camera for the last four hours.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Steve turned to face him, an easy smile breaking out on his face. Yes, that was his smile. That was the part of Stevie that was still himself and not Captain America. God, Bucky wanted to kiss him, audience be damned.
Steve ducked his head.
Bucky had overheard Carter and Phillips once commenting on the gesture that Stevie often made when asked to perform or film something or meet some senator or other and how shy he was for a man who was so physically imposing.
Bucky knew that his childhood friend used the gesture to appear meek and inoffensive when he was tempted to curse up a storm at someone.
He finally raised his eyes to Bucky. “It’s definitely something.”
Bucky snorted and looked over to where the rest of the boys were standing. Dum Dum had produced some cigars from somewhere and his fingers twitched. What he wouldn’t do for a smoke right now…
“Umm, Captain America… Captain Rogers, sir,” one of the film crew called, waving a hand nervously.
“Yes?”
It was like a mask or a shutter or something that fell over Stevie’s face, making Bucky shift uncomfortably. There was Steve’s normal self, the person he had always been, and then this…stranger… who wore his skin and used his voice and yet wasn’t him.
“If we could just get a few more pictures of you to show the public the good work you’re doing.”
Steve tilted his head to one side, a brief frown flickering across his face. His eyes darted over to Bucky and the rest of the Commandos before returning to pierce through the camera technician, who was practically shaking at the disapproval that Captain America was radiating in his direction.
“Of course, we should get some shots of Sergeant Barnes as well, and the rest of your team, of course,” the man repeated himself.
Steve smiled genially then – all teeth and gums, as fake as could be. Neither of them missed the look the over-waxed director of this sorry crew gave Morita and Jones as the Howlies grumbled and whined about being forced to put their cigars out and make themselves look presentable.
In the meantime, the camera started rolling again and Steve was back to being his good, old, whiter-than-white alter-ego once more.
“What gives him the right to judge them like that?” The words came from behind Stevie’s gritted teeth and it took Bucky a minute to catch them properly. “Man like that will never see action, never put himself on the line, and he thinks he can look at them in that way.” His anger was barely concealed and Bucky could almost predict how this would go if he didn’t defuse the situation.
“Aww, hell, Stevie. You know I’ve got your back, but this room is full of about twenty officers, plus the movie guys. You really think we can take them all without getting court-martialled?”
“Well, Cap might be able to,” Falsworth inserted himself in between them. “He’s got the public on his side, after all. And I’ve got my legendary charm to fall back on if we were eventually caught.”
“Charm?” Morita snorted, “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Who are we taking on?” Jones clapped Bucky on the back before turning to Falsworth.
“The movie guys, I think.”
“Huh. Well I guess we’re already fighting Hitler and Hydra, might as well add Hollywood to it.”
“Any particular reason why we’re fighting them?” Dum Dum and Dernier had made it over to them now and without talking about it, they somehow managed to rearrange themselves into some sort of formation for the camera.
“Cap doesn’t like bullies or judgmental pricks,” Falsworth interjected smoothly.
Faces hardened as the rest of the men took in what that meant. The flashes of the camera grew more rapid.
“Run for it?” Morita questioned.
“Ready,” Dugan announced quietly. “Set. Scramble.”
They made a break for it, charging towards where they had left their gear and then bolting for the doors of the warehouse. Bucky ended up running down a side alley and out into the streets of London where they were holed up, Steve and Jim by his side. When they reached a set of crossroads, Jim gave a sharp whistle and then sprinted off to their left.
They wooped and hollered as they raced through the street, eventually reaching their barracks from the south. It was stupid and it was childish and they were definitely going to get hell for it later, but it was the most fun Bucky had had in a long time, certainly the most fun he had experienced since he had been shipped over to this Godforsaken war.
Stevie and he crashed into their room, locking it behind them, and Steve immediately began tugging at the different straps of his uniform.
Bucky flopped on his cot and kicked his shoes off and watched appreciatively as Steve finally managed to struggle out of his shield harness and belt. When he unbuttoned the hidden side panel, baring his vest underneath, Bucky let out an appreciative whistle, laughing at the blush it brought to his lover’s face.
“If you stopped laughing and got over here to help, then this wouldn’t be so hard, jerk,” Steve muttered, yanking at his suit.
He snorted, but obligingly got up and went over to help Steve strip out of the rest of the constricting outfit, until he was just left in his skivvies.
This was the part of the day that Bucky liked best, when the uniform came off, piece by piece, and Captain America and the lingering scent of the politicians’ moral hypocrisy were shed and there was only Steve left.
Just Steve. His Stevie.
Still as hopeless and wonderful as ever.
He couldn’t resist the urge to drag the taller man towards him and press their lips together. They broke apart smiling, foreheads touching. Bucky slid his hands up, running his fingers through Steve’s perfectly coiffed hair, messing it up.
Yes, this was what he preferred.
They could keep Captain America for themselves. He didn’t need him.
He just needed plain old Steve from Brooklyn.