Work Text:
1.
After a long day at the docks Bucky quickly walks back home to the apartment he shares with Steve, trying to work out a way to tell him the news. He climbs up the rickety flight of stairs to his door and pauses when he hears a quiet melody from inside. Bucky puts his ear against the door and smiles when he hears Steve’s gentle singing, a tell-tale sign that Steve’s in a particularly good mood. Despite the fact that Steve can’t sing for shit, Bucky’s heart swells with affection and he’s stricken by how smitten he is with the younger man.
Bucky slowly opens up the door and sees Steve sitting at their wobbly kitchen table, sketchbook open and pencil in hand, foot tapping lightly as he continues to sing. Bucky wants to rush to their balcony and tell whoever’s out there that he loves Steve. He loves Steve so much it terrifies him as much as it excites him.
These moments, where Bucky lets himself get carried away, never seem to last long before he’s yanked back into reality. He could never tell anyone that he loves Steve. Even if he could, it wouldn’t change the fact that he’s leaving soon. Leaving and taking his secret with him, carrying it with him like an anchor as he’s always done. Bucky’s momentarily taken out of these thoughts when he hears a cheery “Hey, Buck,” and sees Steve smiling up at him.
Closing the door and walking further into the apartment, Bucky replies, teasing, “I’m tellin’ ya, Steve, your voice was made for the radio.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you just wish you could sound half as good as me.”
Bucky laughs and plops himself into the chair across from Steve. “I’m pretty sure they’d kick us out of this building if my singing sounded anything like yours.” He doesn’t tell him that Steve’s awful singing is one of his favorite sounds. God I’m such a sap. I’m so fucking gone over you.
Steve sticks his tongue out at Bucky and resumes sketching and singing off-pitch. The draft notice feels even heavier in Bucky’s pocket and his stomach clenches at the thought of ruining Steve’s good mood. He decides that the bad news can wait.
2.
At night, when the men of the 107th weren’t fighting and could almost pretend that they weren’t in the middle of a war, most of the soldiers try to get what little sleep they could. Some soldiers pray - pray for their brothers and friends in other regiments, pray for the war to be over, pray that their mothers wouldn’t have to find a letter in the mail telling them that their son wouldn’t be coming home. Other men smoke cigarettes while speaking to each other in hushed tones, perhaps talking about what they’re going to do after the war (you need to survive it first, Bucky thinks bitterly). Others might write letters to their sweethearts or clutch a picture of them to their chest, trying not to think about what they’ll have to do to win this war and make their way back to them.
Bucky takes out the tiny bible he kept in his pocket - not to pray, no, praying was something Bucky gave up the day he made his first kill - and stares at the worn photo he had tucked in between its pages. Bucky remembers the day that photo was taken and a small smile forms on his lips, nearly invisible to someone not paying close attention. Him and Steve had taken the train out to Coney Island some afternoon in June a few years back.
“C’mon, Steve, it’ll be fun!” Bucky said, grabbing Steve’s arm and pulling him towards the photobooth. Steve wriggled out of Bucky’s grasp, but still followed a rather excited Bucky with amusement.
“I don’t know, Buck, your ugly mug might break the camera,” Steve mumbled, a small grin on his face.
“You punk!” Bucky reached out to shove Steve, but Steve dodged him and laughed, quickly making his way inside the photobooth. Bucky shook his head fondly and hurried after Steve into the booth.
With a toothy grin, Bucky had slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders and tickled Steve’s side with his other hand as the photo was taken, making the corners of his eyes crinkle as giggled.
Bucky remembers wishing for that moment to last longer. Steve’s laughter filling the booth, the feeling of Steve’s body next to his, the boundless adoration Bucky felt for the younger man coursing through him. But most of all, he remembers wishing for Steve to love him as he loved him - as he still loves him.
Steve had smacked his arm after that picture was taken and Bucky almost laughs at the memory. Instead, he closes the bible and puts it back in his pocket, then lays down, still clinging to the memory of Steve’s laugh and the feel of his skin beneath Bucky’s fingers.
3.
Steve pats Bucky’s shoulder with a grin after Agent Carter walks away in her pretty red dress and says, “Don't take it so hard. Maybe she's got a friend.”
Bucky rolls his eyes and forces out a laugh, knowing that’s what Steve would expect him to do. They sit back down at the bar and Bucky fidgets with the recently refilled glass sitting on the counter.
“You gonna marry her when this is over?” Bucky doesn’t actually want to hear Steve’s answer. He doesn’t even know why he asked. He watches a small smile form on Steve’s lips and takes a large gulp of whiskey.
“I guess if she’ll have me.”
You idiot, of course she will. Who wouldn’t? Bucky knows he should tell Steve this. Instead, he knocks back the rest of his whiskey and motions at the bartender for another.
“What about you?” Steve asks after a minute, watching Bucky take a swig of his drink, “What are you going to do?”
Bucky chuckles. “Probably keep on trying to get your dumb ass out of trouble.”
The answer gets a laugh out of Steve as he shakes his head. Bucky promises that if he makes it out of this war, he’ll tell Steve how he feels when they’ve both grown old.
I’m not going to survive. I’m not going to grow old. I’m taking this to the grave.
Bucky always knew he’d have to.
4.
One of the first things Bucky remembers is Steve. Of course it would be Steve, it would always be Steve. When he checks an abandoned newspaper for the date - 1973 - Bucky’s stomach lurches. It has been a couple days after he had gone rogue and he needs the answer to the question that has been gnawing at him for days: where is Steve?
Bucky arrives in a library in the morning and knows that he doesn’t have long until they find him again. He tries not to draw attention to himself as he heaves an encyclopedia to a small table in the corner of the library. Excitement courses through him as he opens the book and lets himself think about the possibility seeing Steve again while he flips through the pages. Maybe I could actually tell him the truth. Maybe he’ll tell me that he feels the same. Maybe he’ll sing a little while after.
He finds the page he was looking for and his chest tightens as words pop out at him: Captain Rogers - Valkyrie - Arctic - dead.
He rereads the page over and over again, hoping that he’s just misunderstood, but the message always stays the same. He snaps his eyes shut.
Steve is dead. Steve, his best friend that never stopped fighting. Steve, the one Bucky had given his heart to long ago but never dared to tell him. Steve, the boy who shouldn’t have been in that goddamn war in the first place, is dead.
Steve was the one that was supposed to survive, not me, oh God, not me, Bucky wanted to scream, his mind reeling, what kind of sick punishment is this? Bucky suddenly realizes that he’s speaking to a god he stopped believing in, a god Steve had still prayed to during the war. Lot of good that did you, huh?
Head in his hands, Bucky forces himself to look at the page. He immediately feels the guilt weighing him down, crawling under his skin. I was supposed to protect you.
Bucky didn’t know how long he’d been staring at the page until an old woman clears her throat and tells him that the library is closing in five minutes. Bucky can’t even find the voice to apologize, just gets up and makes his way out of the building. He notices that the sun had started to set just as his handlers grip his arms and Bucky, feeling numb, doesn’t even put up a fight.
5.
It’s a little over a year after S.H.I.E.L.D. had been taken down when Bucky is in his small apartment in Bucharest sitting in front of a staticky television he’d found in an alley. Every channel is showing footage of what’s happening in Sokovia. A video of Iron Man flying around the crumbling city plays before a picture of a slightly charred robot is shown, proceeded by footage of Captain America helping a civilian out of a collapsed building.
You should be wearing your goddamn helmet.
Steve’s inability to stand by when something is wrong is one of the things Bucky remembers despising about the man. More often than Bucky would have liked, he’d be walking back to their tiny Brooklyn apartment when he’d hear the distinct sound of a clenched fist meeting skin. If it was one or two guys, Bucky could handle it, but when there were more Bucky would get his fair share of a beating too. They’d both walk home clutching their side or trying to stop their nosebleeds. Those days weren’t too bad, at least Bucky was able to take the bulk of the beating instead of Steve.
The days where Steve would walk into the apartment, black eye already forming and blood splattered on the front of his shirt, those days were much worse. After a while Steve stopped telling Bucky why he picked a fight (Bucky always knew there was some noble reason for Steve’s stupidity) and allowed Bucky to fuss over him and clean him up. Bucky couldn’t even enjoy the feeling of Steve’s cheek under his fingertips while he was wiping blood off of his face, too busy praying that the day where Steve’s body couldn’t take it would never come.
Then Steve got himself into the war, the little shit. Bucky never forgave him for that. You shouldn’t have gotten that goddamn serum in the first place. You should’ve left me strapped to that table. I would’ve died and you would’ve been back home. You would’ve been safe. Steve would always do the right thing, even if that meant putting himself in danger. Bucky has always known this.
And now here he is on the television screen, battling an army of robots without his helmet on. Bucky suddenly has the urge to strap a rifle over his back, go to Sokovia, and find a vantage point where he could shoot anything that comes Steve’s way, just like before.
Bucky knows that Steve has been looking for him ever since he pulled him from the river. He’s gotten close a few times and Bucky has almost let himself be found on more than one occasion, but he doesn’t know what he’d say to Steve. He’s scared that he’d tell him too much, tell him everything, and Steve, the idiot, would let the guilt absorb him.
So Bucky has resigned himself to be the sole carrier of his burdens. But days when the memories of his time as the Soldier overwhelm him or his feelings, the ones he’s carried around like an anchor all these years, rise to the surface and threaten to consume him, Bucky wishes for Steve’s arms around him just as the old Bucky had always wanted.
+1
A couple days after the destruction of Sokovia, Steve is finally taking a much needed break in his Brooklyn apartment. Bucky knows this because he is sitting on the roof of the building across from Steve’s, watching him lay down on the couch and reach for the television remote.
I didn’t come here all the way from Romania just to look at this punk.
Bucky stands up and makes his way down the fire escape. He thinks of the promise he made to himself all those years ago in that bar in London as he starts climbing the other fire escape towards Steve’s apartment.
We survived. I always knew you would.
He stops and gathers his thoughts, forces himself to breathe, then straightens up his back determinedly and keeps walking.
No need to wait until we grow old. We’re already a hundred.
He sees Steve through the window.
I already took it to the grave when I fell off that goddamn train. I’m not doing it again - no fucking way.
He knocks on the glass.
The way Steve’s eyes bulge and his body jerks at the noise almost makes Bucky snort. Steve’s eyes meet his and Bucky can feel fear gripping him, but the love Bucky has always harbored for the man outweighs it.
Steve is rushing to the window, then opening it, and the two men stare at each other.
Bucky looks Steve over - his face, his arms, his torso - checking for any damage. When he’s satisfied with his assessment, Bucky lets out a quiet, “Hey, Steve.”
Steve’s lips break out into a smile and he replies, “Hey, Buck,” while reaching out towards the other man slowly. Bucky practically knocks Steve over when he slides into the apartment and launches himself into Steve’s arms. Steve lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob and hugs Bucky even tighter, Bucky’s face tucked under Steve’s chin.
Bucky withdraws after a moment, but stays close enough for both men to continue gripping each other. “Steve, I gotta tell you something.”
Steve’s brows furrow, and he hesitates before nodding and says, “Okay, Buck.”
“I love you,” Bucky whispers before he can chicken out. Steve gapes at him. Bucky takes a deep breath, “I love you so goddamn much. I always have, Steve, ever since I can remember I knew that I loved you. I didn’t think I’d ever tell you, but I’m so tired of keeping it a secret, Steve, I’m so tired.”
Steve brings Bucky closer again, embracing him just as he had been a moment ago. Steve’s hand strokes Bucky’s hair then rests on his cheek as he pulls back to look into Bucky’s eyes. There’s a gentle smile on his lips and he whispers back, “I love you too.”
Bucky can hardly process what he’s just heard before he feels his face break into a smile and he throws his head back in rapturous laughter, Steve joining him.
“Say it again.”
Steve chuckles and answers, “I love you. God, Bucky, I love you, I love you.” Bucky’s smile broadens.
“How long?” Bucky asks after a minute.
“Ever since I can remember.”
“Well I guess we’re both idiots then.”
“Yeah, but I always knew that about you,” Steve responds, grinning, eyes flicking to Bucky’s lips, slowly leaning in closer to Bucky, “So are you gonna kiss me or what, jerk?”
Bucky doesn’t even call him a punk before closing the distance and kissing him.