Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Bucky was sure Steve Rogers had to have some kind of award for punctuality. For as long as Bucky could remember, Steve appeared at the cafe at seven in the morning, every weekday. Steve would order his normal black coffee and whatever breakfast pastry that Zelda had whipped up that morning. Like clockwork, he’d sit in the same spot and pull out his sketchpad, waiting until Bucky’s shift was over. Some days he’d bring a book or pick up a newspaper from the stand close to the door, but more often than not, he spent his mornings drawing and people-watching.

He’d always been a creature of habit, but Steve had this routine down to a ‘t’. Frequent customers and the employees of New York Brewing knew Steve as well as any of the other employees. His quiet presence was a constant for most, including Bucky.

Bucky had known Steve since primary school when he’d fought against a few other boys who were picking on Steve. The latter was small compared to most of the kids their age, but he had a tendency to fight for what was right. Even if that resulted in getting bruised and bloodied. After Steve’s mother passed away, the Barnes’s took him in. Years later, a series of tragedies left Bucky and his younger sister, Rebecca, as orphans. Bucky’s only solution was to enlist. Like always, wherever he went, Steve followed.

Steve had been there for everything important in Bucky’s life, so it made sense that he’d continue to be there after Bucky was medically discharged from the army. A homemade explosive device had fired on the field, leaving Bucky with burns all over his left arm. No one had expected it to heal as well as it had, but it was still too sensitive to go without the compression sleeve.

After the army, Bucky ended up at the cafe, with Steve not far behind. Bucky was pretty sure that Steve made up at least a third of New York Brewing’s revenue. Pepper absolutely adored Steve, possibly as much as Bucky did. She and Zelda had a habit of sneaking little treats for him whenever they were testing out a new menu item and sometimes went out of their way to say hello.

“Morning,” Bucky greeted as the blonde man stepped closer to the counter. He’d already tapped Steve’s drink order into the tablet. “What’s for breakfast today?”

They fell into their routine with practiced ease. Steve hummed and read over the menu, even though he’d had everything on it at least ten times. A small part of Bucky wondered if Steve had memorized their food menu. He wouldn’t be surprised.

After a few minutes of Steve’s act, the man finally looked up with a grin. “What’d you eat for breakfast?”

“Zelda shoved yogurt and a bowl of fruit down my throat,” Bucky deadpanned. Steve’s grin grew wider at this.

“Then I’ll have that.” Steve pulled his wallet out of his pocket and paid, dropping a few dollar bills into the tip jar. “Sleep well?”

“Nope,” Bucky said cheerfully, handing Steve his change. His tone left no room for further questioning. “Breakfast will be out in a few.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at Bucky slightly, making sure the latter knew that the subject was not going to be dropped. Once that was done, Steve went to his normal table, setting his shoulder bag onto the spare seat.

Bucky simply shook his head as he moved away from the register, letting his thoughts wander as he made Steve’s order. On Mondays, Steve had to race to class after Bucky’s shift was over. That only gave them half an hour to talk during Bucky’s break. It was better than nothing at all, but it was still hard for Bucky to not be by Steve’s side 24/7.

“Yogurt bowl for Steve,” Bucky called over his shoulder. A few seconds later, he heard Zelda’s muffled voice confirming that she was making the order.

He brought the coffee out to Steve, resisting the urge to slide into the seat across from his friend immediately. “One black coffee,” he announced.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve gave him a brief glance before returning his eyes back to his sketchbook. Bucky tilted his head to see what Steve was drawing.

“A stack of coffee mugs?”

“It’s only a warm-up,” Steve mumbled as he drew, adding shadows to the sketch.

“Better than I could do. I’ll be back in a bit,” Bucky said, eyeing the door. A couple of their other regulars were approaching the cafe. “Zelda or Maria will have the yogurt out for you soon.”

The next few hours passed by faster than Bucky expected, though he was still exhausted when he finally dropped into the seat across from Steve. The dishes from earlier had long since been returned to the kitchen, leaving only the sketchbook and Steve’s array of graphite pencils to cover the table.

“How’s the arm?” Steve asked, setting one of his pencils down. His eyes drifted to the compression sleeve.

“I slapped it on the alarm this morning,” Bucky huffed. “Wasn’t really thinking much. Too tired.”

“Still sleeping rough?”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged ever-so-slightly. “Yeah. Things just replay in my head and the arm’s another reminder, so…”

“You could’ve called me.”

“Steve, I see you every day. You take a half-hour subway ride for coffee even though there’s a perfectly good shop down the street from your apartment building. I was gonna see you in a few hours, no point in calling in the middle of the night.” Bucky pointed out. Steve shrugged.

Still. Even though Steve didn’t say it out loud, both knew that it was on the tip of his tongue. It was amazingly ironic and hypocritical, considering that Steve bottled up as much shit as Bucky did. Both refused to ask the other for help, despite the fact that they loved to nag each other about it constantly.

“Are you ready for class today?” Bucky finally relieved them both of the awkward silence a few moments later. Steve saw the deflection for what it was and went along.

“I’m finally doing stuff in my major and starting to build up a portfolio.”

Steve always lit up when anyone asked him about school and his artwork. He’d been drawing for years on his own, but benefits from his time in the army included education. This was the first time that he’d been able to be in a professional art class. He soaked up all the information like a sponge and made sure to go to everyone’s office hours to keep talking about art.

He was finally getting the opportunity to do what he loved. Bucky had never seen Steve this happy about anything.

As Steve rambled, Bucky watched him carefully. The crow’s feet around Steve’s eyes became more and more pronounced the longer the blonde talked. He waved his hands around, gesticulating with enthusiasm. No matter how many times Bucky had listened to these daily rambles, he never tired of hearing Steve’s voice. It was evident that he was happy where he was.

“-Speaking of the cafe, Pepper just sent me a request for a commission. She said that since I’m here all the time, the least she can do is ask me to draw something for her,” Steve was saying when Bucky started paying attention to his words again. “She said she’d pay 50 dollars for each line art piece. She wants seven of them, I think.”

“You can always add that to your portfolio.”

“She told me to set up a website so that she can recommend it to other business owners around here. I’m not drawing for the money, but I get to do more projects outside of class. I can even make prints and sell them.”

“That’s great.”

Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

A week later, Steve left the cafe, more tired than usual. Nightmares had kept him up for the majority of the night before. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he saw was Bucky, right next to him. There was a beeping noise coming from somewhere, but he couldn’t place the sound until it was too late. And there was Bucky, pushing Steve away, protecting Steve first because it was always about keeping him alive.

He’d almost let out a sob when he’d walked into the cafe this morning, remembering that while the nightmare was a memory, Bucky was still alive. Bucky, who sat and talked because he knew that Steve wasn’t feeling particularly chatty. Bucky, who had squeezed Steve’s shoulder tighter than normal before he went back to work and told Steve to go get some rest.

Steve leaned back into his seat on the subway, closing his eyes as the fatigue started to settle in. He’d almost dozed off completely when a buzz from his phone woke him up.

Unable to ignore it and fighting to stay awake, Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it, leaning forward. His brow furrowed as he read the message.

Art Sale! All items 50% off! Today only!

He locked his phone again, sliding it back into his pocket and adjusting himself in his seat This particular store was always so expensive, but he had to admit that the quality of their products was better than most places. Art supplies always made him feel better on a bad day.

Steve weighed his options in his head before deciding to ignore his current physical state in favor of art supplies. He needed better liner pens if he was going to do that commission for Pepper. She’d said that there wasn’t a deadline, but Steve didn’t want to keep her waiting for too long.

He stumbled out of the subway and climbed up the stairs slowly, to the chagrin of his fellow New Yorkers. They bustled past him without a word, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. The art store was only a few blocks from his apartment. It’d be a quick trip. Just pen liners and maybe another sketchbook to add to the pile of ones he hadn’t started using yet. He’d still have the afternoon to take a nap, and the weekend was starting tomorrow.

His shoulders relaxed as he finally stepped into the store, the air conditioning immediately relieving him from the humidity outside. Brooklyn Art had been established long before Steve had been born and was a family-owned business. He came in often enough to be recognized, though he only bought things every once in a while.

Steve let himself wander openly through the store, only picking up things he intended to buy. He had to remind himself on several occasions that he didn’t need more than the things on his list. On the way back, he stopped to pick up lunch from the deli around the corner.

Before he knew it, he was in front of his building, looking tiredly at the stairs he needed to walk up. He’d counted them many times when he’d first moved into this apartment. Ten steps and another flight of stairs, and he’d be home free.

If only things were that easy.

He got up to the building lobby and took his time walking up the first half of the flight of stairs. His eyes closed as he started up the second half.

Steve thought he’d gotten on the landing one step early. He rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake just long enough to get into bed. His foot caught on the step to the landing, making him stumble forward. In an effort to not land on his wrists and to not let go of his groceries, he tried to twist his body. There was a loud crack as he landed.

After a moment, Steve tried to stand and found that he couldn’t do so on two feet. Pain shot through his left ankle when he put weight on it. He grumbled, picked up the bags, and stubbornly walked with both feet to his front door, even though every other step made him grit his teeth.

Steve managed to drop his things on the dining table and hopped to the bathroom on one foot. When he finally found a bandage, he wrapped his ankle quickly, kicking off his shoes in the process. Six hops later, he was falling into bed, too tired to think about his newly sprained ankle.

When Steve opened his eyes again, the sun was still high in the sky. What time was it? He sat up in bed, yawning. As he woke up, memories of what had happened that morning rushed back, along with the dull, throbbing pain in his ankle.

He made a face when he remembered what had caused the injury. Once he’d undone the wrap, Steve groaned at the sight.

Fuck.

Sure enough, his ankle was swollen. He tapped it lightly with one of his fingers. While he’d had worse injuries, a sprain was still annoying to deal with. He wrapped the ankle again, then swung his legs over to the side of the bed and tried to stand up.

In an attempt to stabilize himself, Steve knocked one of the bedside lamps over as he grabbed for something to lean his weight against. He huffed in annoyance. Slowly, he made his way to his closet. He’d needed crutches for another injury prior to enlisting in the army and hadn’t bothered to donate them after recovery. Bucky had propped them in the back of Steve’s closet when he moved into the apartment, along with a large first aid kit.

His shoulders sagged in relief when he spotted the silver crutches leaning against the wall. At least he didn’t need to worry about going out again.

Crutches now acquired, Steve moved to the kitchen. In his rush to get to bed, he’d left his phone on the kitchen table. He picked it up, swiping away the notifications that he didn’t need to answer.

His first instinct was to call Bucky. You’ll never guess what happened, Steve would say, laughing at the circumstances. I managed to sprain my ankle on the stairs that I walk up and down every day. I guess I was that tired.

Since their return from active duty, Steve had become the one to fret over Bucky. Gone were the days when Steve was slumped into one of the chairs in Bucky’s old kitchen, hissing as Bucky dabbed hydrogen peroxide and grumbled about Steve’s lack of self-preservation. Half of Bucky’s medical expertise had been learned because of Steve’s countless injuries.

Of course, Buck’s injuries from duty were a lot worse than anything Steve had ever experienced. A sprain paled in comparison to having an entire arm burned by an explosive.

Bucky had enough to worry about, Steve decided. He doubted that Buck would want to spend his weekend off taking care of a simple injury that would be fixed with a little ice and some painkillers.

He’d just stay inside all weekend. Maybe by Monday, Steve would be able to walk regularly.

Bucky glanced at the clock and the front door for the fifth time in the past few minutes. On any other Monday morning, Steve would be at the cafe, sketching in one of the large black books he always had with him.

And yet, the blonde was nowhere to be found.

Bucky had heard almost nothing from Steve’s end all weekend. Steve had texted on Saturday, saying that he was busy working on something for school and wouldn’t have any free time. While this wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, Bucky had to wonder if something had happened on Friday. They were often attached at the hip when Bucky didn’t have work and Steve didn’t have class.

You’re being paranoid, he thought to himself, shaking his head and turning his back to the cafe’s main entrance. He can’t always spend his mornings here.

Maria walked out of the kitchen, still tying her apron around her waist. She raised an eyebrow when she noticed that Steve wasn’t in his usual spot. She shifted her gaze to her coworker, who looked like he was about to sprint out the door.

“Where’s Steve?” She tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible.

“Not sure.” A frown tugged at the corners of Bucky’s lips. “He was busy this weekend, so I didn’t see him.”

“Huh, that’s a first.”

Bucky hummed. His eyes hadn’t left the doorway.

“Maybe it’s an off day?”

“He’d tell me, right?” Bucky’s gaze finally landed on Maria. “If something did happen. If it was classes, or getting sick.” Right?

“I think so.” Maria shrugged. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but you can always text if you’re that worried.” Bucky nodded, pulling out his phone and punching in the password.

BB: How was your weekend? Everything ok?

Bucky’s thumb must have hovered over the send button for longer than expected. Before he knew it, the phone was out of his hands. Maria pressed her finger to the screen, giving Bucky a shrug as she handed the phone back.

“See? Easy,” she patted Bucky’s shoulder. “The more you think about it, the less you’re going to want to actually send it.”

“Why?”

“You’re welcome,” Maria sang, swishing back through the kitchen doors. Bucky stared after her in disbelief. For a moment, the front of the cafe was quiet until his phone decided to loudly ping in his hands. He nearly dropped it, fumbling with the device for a moment before his hands felt steady enough to tap in the password.

SR: My weekend was good. I’m sorry I couldn’t see you, I was actually out of town.

Bucky stared at his phone, too shocked to know how to react.

Out of town?

Steve never traveled without telling Bucky about his plans. Granted, that was because they usually were together, but he’d made no mention of this trip when Bucky had seen him last Friday.

Huh. Interesting.

He needed to know more.

Now.

BB: where?

It only took one question from Bucky to put Steve in full panic mode. Somewhere in Steve’s head, an alarm went off.

shit shit shit shit shit-

Steve stared at his phone, trying to figure out how to respond. It was so clearly a lie, but what else was Steve supposed to say? If he said he didn’t actually go out of town, he’d have to explain that he’d lied to avoid making Bucky worry. And then Bucky would flip out even more than he would have if Steve had just told him about the ankle in the beginning.

He was already digging himself a grave, so it wouldn’t exactly hurt to elaborate a little to make the lie more believable.

SR: I went down to DC to visit Peggy for the weekend.

BB: Like a last-minute thing?

SR: Yeah

Steve and Bucky had met Peggy during their active duty in Afghanistan. While she ranked a little higher than the two men due to her degree in communications, the three spent a lot of time together after being assigned to the same unit. Bucky was medically discharged a year before Peggy and Steve finished their active service and thus, spent less time on duty.

After finishing their active service, Steve returned to New York, and Peggy went to D.C. Unlike Steve, Peggy continued her work for the government. Only a month after her service was fulfilled, she accepted an offer to work as a communications officer for the CIA.

It’d been too long since Steve had last seen Peggy; if he was counting right, he hadn’t seen her in over two years. He mentally reminded himself to send her a text later in the afternoon.

SR: My train came in late last night. I slept in a bit.

SR: I hope I didn’t worry you. Is everything okay at the cafe?

BB: rush starting

BB: will text later

“Bucky,” Maria warned as she eyed the people coming in. “You want drinks duty or register?”

He tucked his phone into his pocket quickly, taking his place behind the register. Maria shot him a worried glance but said nothing.

For the most part, Bucky was able to push Steve from his mind and focus on the rush. It helped that he needed to pay attention to everyone’s orders. But when his shift ended at noon, Steve resurfaced in Bucky’s thoughts.

Why would Steve go to DC without telling him? He’d said it was an impromptu trip, but Steve usually gave at least a day’s warning in advance. Had Bucky not been paying enough attention? Was Steve struggling again and finding it hard to talk to Bucky?

Easy now, Bucky told himself. Steve had looked tired last Friday. Knowing his best friend, he’d probably had a harder time sleeping. Looking back, Bucky wished he could’ve done something more, maybe given Steve a stronger coffee that morning.

So maybe Steve went down to DC on a whim. But why DC? Why Peggy?

Bucky didn’t dislike Peggy; on the contrary, Peggy kept Steve out of trouble as much as Bucky did. The three of them had been close during training and duty. But after Bucky’s injury, he’d noticed that Peggy and Steve seemed closer. It was reasonable. Steve had probably wracked himself with guilt, considering the fact that Steve would have been hit by the explosive, were it not for Bucky pushing him out of the way. Surely Peggy supported Steve while they waited for Bucky to recover.

Even with the lasting injuries, pushing Steve wasn’t something Bucky regretted. He’d always dropped everything to protect Steve without a second thought. Partially because Bucky knew Steve would do the same in that scenario. Partially because Bucky refused to accept any near-future that didn’t include Steve.

But Peggy had been there when Bucky hadn’t. And Bucky was long familiar with Steve’s attraction to her. Even when both vehemently denied it, Bucky knew that there was an undeniable attraction between them.

Steve never visited Peggy alone. It was always the three of them.

At least, until the past weekend.

Maybe Steve wasn’t saying anything explicit to avoid making Bucky feel like the odd one out.

Too late, he thought numbly. I’m too late.

Out of all the things he’d ever had to do, pressing the button to call Bucky that night was the most terrifying to Steve.

He’d been avoiding it all day, actively throwing himself into brainstorming ideas for Pepper’s commission. His ankle was still weak. The swelling had gone down, but he wasn’t able to use it for long. He’d barely been able to walk to the bodega down the street to get the ingredients needed for dinner.

When Steve finally looked at his phone after dinner, Bucky hadn’t sent anything. Steve knew that Bucky’s shift was over at noon, but he probably had made plans with someone else or wanted to be alone for the afternoon.

He pressed the call button and agonized while it rang. What had he been thinking, lying to Bucky like that? He was just digging a deeper hole for himself. If Bucky asked about DC, and Steve knew that Bucky would, what was Steve going to say? I lied for my own self-preservation because I thought you had enough to worry about?

Steve had to come clean. When Bucky answered, Steve would explain. Getting chewed out by his best friend now was better than later.

“Hey,” Bucky said. “Thought you were tired.”

“It’s always a longer train ride than I expect.” Steve made a face at his own words. You were supposed to come clean, his conscience said.

“I guess it was really that spontaneous, huh?”

“Peggy had a free weekend, so…”

“She’s doing well?”

“Yeah. Work’s been keeping her busy but we got to walk through the National Gallery.” Fuck, Steve was just making his lie more elaborate. He needed to stop talking. Maybe avoid Bucky for a few more days.

“You can tell me about it tomorrow,” Bucky yawned on the other end. “I’m gonna try to sleep.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, though, right?”

shitshitshit-

“Uh, I was gonna stay in and work on this essay,” Steve squeaked out. “I was kind of avoiding it this past weekend.”

There was a pause on the other side of the line. “Oh, okay.” Bucky sounded surprised, even disappointed.

“I promise I’ll be back on Wednesday,” Steve rushed. When the words settled, his eyes widened. Why would you give him a day? Now you have to rush recovery, his brain hissed.

“No, I get it, school’s important.”

“Sorry, I just think I’ll be distracted-”

“Yeah. I get it.” Pause. “Steve, you know you can tell me anything, right? You’re not going to burden me.”

FUCK.

“I know,” Steve said, the guilt bubbling in his stomach. “I’ll be there Wednesday.”

Steve pushed open the door that Wednesday morning, caught off guard by the chill in the air during his commute. Despite the muscle he’d gained during active duty and training, goosebumps were raised up and down his arms.

On any other day, Steve would have been relieved to see Bucky behind the counter. Yet Steve’s stomach churned as he met Bucky’s gaze.

“Morning,” Bucky greeted. “Zelda just pulled out a tray of blueberry muffins.”

“Then my usual with a blueberry muffin,” Steve ordered. He watched Bucky punch in the order.

“You had a good time with Peggy in DC?” Bucky asked. “I didn’t know you were thinking of visiting her out there.”

“It was really last moment, but I’m glad I went. She’s doing well. I went down on Friday night and stayed until Sunday afternoon. I’m lucky she had the space to host.” At this, Steve’s cheeks warmed. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like they’d actually done anything. He hadn’t even been there, for Christ’s sake.

“Well,” Bucky said, “I’m glad you two finally got together. It was a long time coming.”

Steve blinked. “Yeah, it was nice to be with her again.”

“So are you guys trying out long distance or something?”

Steve choked on his own spit, coughing into his elbow. “It isn’t permanent, I honestly don’t know what’ll happen in the next month or two.” He looked down quickly to finish payment, silently begging for the conversation to end once he stepped away from the counter.

Of course, Bucky didn’t let him off that easy. A goddamn one-man interrogation squad, Peggy had called him after his bi-weekly calls home to her and Steve.

“Were you able to finish the essay?”

Steve hadn’t lied about this. Steve did have an essay due that Friday, but he never left things to do last minute. He’d learned previously that the work he produced under pressure was significantly worse than what he did with an extra day or two in between finishing and the due date.

Bucky, on the other hand, seemed to love waiting for the last possible second to do anything, if only to watch Steve try to politely nudge and beg and whine loudly about the consequences.

“Just need to revise it,” Steve replied smoothly, tucking his card back into his wallet.

Bucky opened his mouth to ask another question, but was interrupted by Maria, carrying the fresh tray of muffins out to the display case.

“Hey, stranger!” Maria teased. “Is it midterms season yet?”

Steve floundered in his attempt to explain that yes, he had midterms, but no, they weren’t exams. Portfolio critiques were approaching. If Steve didn’t pass, he could try again in the spring, but that came with it’s own challenges. Maria listened as she filled the display case, occasionally moving to let Bucky access the espresso machine.

“So you don’t have a big test to study for,” Maria observed when Steve finally finished explaining the importance of the portfolio in his curriculum. Bucky bared his teeth at Steve over Maria’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he managed to choke out.

Steve left the cafe earlier than usual that morning, saying something about a peer meeting with the other students in his major before rushing off. Bucky watched the other man practically run out the door. He turned to Maria.

“Am I being paranoid or was he being weird?” Bucky asked. “He doesn’t usually schedule appointments in the morning. He saves that time to come here.”

Maria shrugged. “Maybe that was the only time the group could meet,” She suggested unhelpfully.

“It’s not just that.” Bucky showed Maria the conversations from that weekend.

“Is Peggy an interest?” Maria asked when she was finished reading.

“According to Steve, they’re dating.” Bucky felt Maria’s eyes burn a hole into his shoulder.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to say much because he thinks you’ll be jealous.” Maria said, handing the phone back to him.

“Why would I be jealous?”

Maria’s stare did not waver as he looked at her. She pursed her lips together, as if she was trying to keep an inside thought from escaping.

“I’m gonna let you figure that one out on your own.” She finally said, turning to disappear into the kitchen.

SR: we gotta talk

PC: did Barnes die

PC: are you in imminent danger

SR: ??? no

PC: is it related to Barnes?

SR: yes

PC: then this isn’t my problem

SR: pick uppp

“I fucked up, I fucked up so bad,” Steve nearly sobbed into his phone that night after Peggy had finally answered his calls. Seventh time’s a charm, he’d crowed when she picked up. She’d threatened to hang up, but even over the phone, Steve’s despair could not be ignored.

“Steven, if you have problems with Barnes, call his therapist,” Peggy said evenly. It was a rehearsed line, but Steve couldn’t be bothered to care. There was a bigger problem at hand.

“It’s not that.”

“Okay, then talk to your therapist, or go to the VA. Doesn’t someone from there work at the same place Bucky does?”

“I can’t,” Steve whined, holding his phone close to his ears as he rolled over on the couch and attempted to bury his face into a cushion. “I don’t even have a therapist.”

“You don’t have- Steve. You need to ask for that shit, otherwise the government won’t give it to you. Do you need me to help you fill out the forms?” Various clicking and keyboard typing noises suddenly started from Peggy’s end of the line.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

The clicking stopped. Steve heard Peggy suck in a breath, then exhale slowly. Before she could say no, his mouth was moving a mile a minute. “I just need you to fly up to the city and pretend date me and pretend break up with me in front of Bucky because Bucky thinks we’re dating and if I tell him we broke up just now then he’ll doubt that we were ever together and I can’t have him asking questions.”

Another inhale. Another exhale. If she was going to get the full story out of him, she had to be strategic about it. Getting Steve to explain something meant going through whatever roundabout he’d driven her into until she finally got him to go into the right exit. It felt like watching a marble roll around the walls of shallow funnel until it finally, finally found its place through the hole.

“Why does Bucky think we’re dating?” She tried to avoid furrowing her brow at the thought. Sure, there was a time when she had wondered what it would be like to be with Steve, but she’d quickly realized that she didn’t have the time to unpack every anxiety that popped up. It was even harder to do so when half of those anxieties were related to Barnes in some way or another.

“I told him I went to DC and that’s why I didn’t see him this weekend, but I sprained my ankle on Friday and it’s fine now but you know how he ties himself in fucking knots whenever something happens-”

She let Steve’s rambling wash over her for a moment. Peggy could already see a hole in this story. A loose stitch, barely peeking out amongst the bigger piece, but a hole nonetheless.

“If the ankle’s already healed, why not come clean?” Peggy asked. Steve made a miserable noise in response. “He can’t get mad at you for not telling him if the problem’s already fixed, can he?”

There was a pause. Whatever his response was, she was going to hate it.

“What if I don’t, and we pretend break up and then I continue to sit in my little corner at the cafe every weekday and pine over my best friend?” He suggested.

Peggy tried her best not to scream that what Steve and Bucky did was not pining. They were basically already in a relationship, they just didn’t live with each other or kiss. God forbid they give each other a hug more than once a week. She’d seen the stares, the way they softened and relaxed around each other. Steve had had his stumbles around Bucky, but both ribbed each other about shit constantly. There was time that she’d been a little jealous of their closeness, before she realized that they weren’t fucking and were just painfully, stupidly crushing on each other. After two years away from active service, she would’ve expected them to be together by now, but alas. Apparently neither of them had come clean. And now, one particular dumbass believed the other dumbass was dating her.

She was silent for long enough for Steve to decide that she was going to be a willing accomplice in this. As if she didn’t live in a different state, or have a job that required her to schedule and request any kind of leave. “I’ll pay for your flight,” he promised.

“With what money?” She found herself saying.

“Savings.” Good god, this man had sunk his teeth into this plan and would not let go.

“Steve.”

“I’ll send you the details and you can request time off, I think I have enough points.” She heard him get up and scramble around his apartment for his laptop. “Can you get out of work next Friday? Please?”

Steve was her weak spot. Always too sweet and polite and so, so goddamn stupid.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she eventually sighed. Steve thanked her profusely.

It wasn’t a complete rejection. He’d take the little victories.

PC: where the fuck am i sleeping when i get to yours

PC: it better not be in your bed

SR: … but my bed is nicer

PC: i’m taking the couch

SR: 🙁

Steve’s leg couldn’t stop bouncing the following Friday. Bucky eyed it with a strong amount of suspicion as he sat down across the table during his break.

“You’re jumpy,” Bucky said. He watched the panic flash in Steve’s eyes before he relaxed again.

“Just nervous,” Steve mumbled, fiddling with one of the graphite pencils he’d been drawing with.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re gonna pass your review?” That had to be what Steve was worried about.

“I know, but-”

“AH. No buts. You don’t get to argue with me on this.” Steve’s eyes darted away again. His leg kept bouncing. “Look at me,” Bucky said. He waited for Steve to stop fiddling with the pencil and to meet his gaze before continuing. “You are going to pass this. You’ve worked really hard, and everyone in your group said you’re gonna be fine. I don’t know shit about art, but you’re talented, Stevie. You’ll be fine.”

Bucky wanted to reach for Steve’s hand to seal the promise in between his own. But when Steve was freaked out like this, touch was unstable ground.

He didn’t get the chance to agonize over the decision for long before the bell above the door to the cafe rang. The moment was gone, and he and Steve settled in an uncomfortable silence.

There were footsteps and what sounded like a suitcase rolling behind him, but he didn’t want to turn away. Steve looked over Bucky’s shoulder briefly, then seemed to slump just slightly in his seat. Bucky was about to scold him about his rounded shoulders when he heard a familiar voice.

“The rose blend, please.”

He’d recognize that British lilt anywhere.

Bucky looked at Steve, who had busied himself with the graphite once again. Someone was acting squirrely.

The suitcase and footsteps got close - so close - before stopping right at their table.

“You two are a sight for sore eyes,” Peggy said, her hands on her hips. “Do I get a hello?”

“Peggy!” Steve fell over himself in an attempt to stand up. His drawing board and pencils clattered to the ground. Bucky pointedly ignored the stare that Maria was definitely giving him from the counter.

“Oh, Stevie,” Peggy said as Steve nearly tackled her into a hug. He’d bent his knees a little to lean his head on her shoulder. She rubbed his back with practiced ease.

She’d chosen to not wear her fatigues, instead opting for jeans and a loose button down. Her sleeves were neatly rolled up to her elbows. Her hair, once constantly in a low ponytail, now spilled over her shoulders in a neat, I-rolled-out-of-bed-like-this way.

“Come here, you.” Peggy held out an open arm to Bucky. He smiled and accepted the half-embrace in spite of the sour taste in his mouth.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” she said when they finally sat back down again. Maria delivered Peggy’s coffee quickly before escaping Bucky’s raised eyebrow and annoyed expression of ‘you have to do this now’. “When Steve came down to visit, he reminded me that I had yet to do the same for you two. And once we got together-” she interlaced her fingers with Steve. “Then I said I’d visit when I could. I’ll be here until Sunday afternoon.”

Bucky faked a smile. “That’s great. Well, I’m sure you two want some alone time, and I gotta get back to work, so…” He started to rise from his seat.

“I thought your break was half an hour today?” Steve asked. Bucky gave a little shrug, as if he couldn’t control how long they actually were. Steve frowned in response.

“I’m not just here for Steve, I’m here to see both of you,” Peggy tried to assure him, looking at Steve for support. “We’ll wait for you to get off work and then we can do something together? All three of us?”

Steve perked up. “Central Park’s nice around this time of year.”

“I gotta meet someone this afternoon.” Bucky palmed the back of his neck in a mock show of regret. Peggy pouted as Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But I’m off tomorrow?” He offered, immediately wanting to take it back when Peggy lit up again.

“Perfect!”

“Just, er, text me the details.” Bucky gave an awkward wave before slinking back to the counter. He sat behind the espresso machine. If he hunched over, the other two wouldn’t be able to see him from where they sat.

“That’s her?” Maria asked.

“Yup.”

Maria patted Bucky’s shoulder sympathetically. “She’s beautiful.”

Bucky swallowed hard. His teeth hurt.

“Yup.”

He needed to talk to Sam.

Sam Wilson was smooth and put together and considerably well-adjusted compared to Steve and Bucky. He made sure the other employees knew about their right to refuse service if customers got tricky and was easily the most dependable of all of them. That was a high bar considering Pepper and Zelda were in the batch too, but Sam was the one who had no tolerance for deflection. He’d sit and wait and wait until you came to an epiphany after listening to you dump your brain out for half an hour. Then he’d help you repack everything into nice, little boxes to compartmentalize and store away for later.

Sam was former Air-Force. He was hell-bent on making sure Bucky and Steve knew they had support when the memories kept them up at night. He’d trained as a trauma counselor for people like Bucky and could pick them apart at any moment.

Bucky stayed at the cafe past the end of his shift. Maria had kindly blocked Bucky from the coffee machine for the rest of the morning, making drinks while he went back and forth between the kitchen and front counter. It did nothing to dull the ache of watching Peggy and Steve leave together, but at least she’d stopped him from trying to eavesdrop on them all morning.

“Man, go home,” Sam said as he walked past to get to the kitchen. Bucky had chosen a spot next to the espresso machine to sit at - the perfect place to sit and talk with Sam before the kids started their shifts in two hours.

“I live here now,” Bucky informed the other man. Sam looked heavenwards briefly, then walked into the kitchen to grab his apron.

“Do I want to know?” He asked when he returned, tying the apron strings around his back. Sam placed his hands on the counter, his shoulders raising as he studied Bucky, who had flopped onto the surface in front of him. He pressed his cheek into the cold marble.

“Yes,” Bucky’s muffled voice responded.

“There are other ways to solve your problems,” Sam reminded Bucky. “But they all start with you explaining what happened.”

“It’s Steve.”

Sam looked at Bucky carefully. “What about Steve?”

“Datin’ Peggy.”

“This a recent development?”

Sam watched Bucky nod into the counter.

“How does that make you feel?”

Worried. Scared. Upset. And a little… jealous?

They’d met Peggy in training, when they were all sleep-deprived, barely-alive cadets. Both he and Steve had been warned against interacting with the female side of the unit, especially off-duty. The military was wary about the numbers of assault, and they didn’t need raising. A suspicion could turn into a punishment within a day if they weren’t careful.

So it’d been the three of them, with one of Peggy’s friends tagging along, most of the time. But Bucky wasn’t blind. He’d seen Steve fall head over heels, though Steve would never risk his position. Peggy wouldn’t either. Both wanted to prove themselves.

Peggy was never a threat, Bucky insisted any time his jealousy rose to the surface. It wasn’t Steve’s fault for being so pretty. And sure, they may have flirted back and forth, but no one took it seriously. At the end of the day, they were just young soldiers barely out of school and trying their damnedest to not die before the age of thirty.

“Why jealous?” Sam asked.

Because… Just, because.

With Peggy, Steve could have everything. The white picket fence, children, a strong and loving wife, a house that needed to be subjected to multiple DIY projects before they could call it homey. With Peggy, Steve would know he was loved, always.

Because they’d fooled around with each other as teenagers and it was more intimate with Steve than any of the girls Bucky brought home. He didn’t have that awkward period of boundary setting that started every relationship in his younger years. They knew each other, and that was enough. That was always enough.

“So I’m guessing this isn’t something you’re gonna talk about with Steve,” Sam concluded.

“He’s been in love with Peggy for at least four years.”

Sam stared at him. “You two have been best friends for god knows how long, and knowing Steve inside and out, do you really think he’d let your relationship sink if you told him any of this?”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. Sam looked on in amusement.

“You asked, dude.”

“Sa-am.”

“Are you really that determined to be miserable about this for the rest of your life?”

“Yes.”

Sam groaned. “Why the hell did you ask for advice if you’re not going to follow it?”

“So I could at least say that I asked for help before doing something suicidal?”

“You’re not gonna die if you tell him.”

Bucky mugged at him. Sam rolled his eyes, then made a shooing gesture with his hands.

“Go mope somewhere else, you’re scaring the customers.”

The following morning, Steve and Peggy appeared at Bucky's doorstep with coffee and bagels in hand. They'd talked a little about where to go the night before, but nothing was concrete. Steve suggested wandering around Bushwick, and off they went.

“Would you ever consider going back to school, Bucky?” Peggy asked as they walked. It was hard to ignore the way she slipped her hand into Steve’s so easily. He looked up at her smile and pretended to be lost in thought.

“I don’t think it’s in the cards right now,” He answered honestly. “Steve’s always been better at school than me. I like where I am, anyways.”

Peggy hummed. “It’s a nice cafe. I can see why you both like it.”

Steve beamed. Bucky tried not to frown. The cafe was their space, not hers when she wanted to come and go. He pushed that thought away and focused on Steve’s rambling about the shop’s evolution. “Bucky’s helped a lot with the coffee blends. It’s incredible to watch the process,” Steve was saying before tugging the three of them to a stop in front of a mural.

Steve continued to ramble for most of the morning, egged on by Peggy’s questions and his determination to find old pieces. Bucky hung back slightly. Steve and Peggy never intentionally made Bucky feel like a third wheel, but sometimes, it couldn’t be helped. He tried not to punish them for that. It still stung, though, when a crowd forced him to trail behind them.

Every now and then, Peggy would look back at him, a small crease in between her eyebrows. He wasn’t sure if the look in her eyes was pity or something else, but he did his best to avert her gaze when he could.

It was early afternoon when Bucky finally found reprieve in a local bookstore, half-staring at the baking section and half-spacing out. Steve had gone off to the art section almost immediately, with Peggy drifting off toward psychology. He’d sighed a breath of relief as they separated, grateful for their accidental discovery of the bookstore.

If he was lucky, he’d get at least twenty minutes away from the Steve and Peggy show. Maybe he could find something to inspire Zelda-

“I feel like we haven’t talked much,” Peggy said quietly. He turned to see her approach. “It’s nice to hear Steve so excited, but he’s not the only reason I’m here this weekend.”

“I bet you got a lot of him when he visited,” Bucky tried to joke.

For a second, Peggy’s eyebrows furrowed before smoothing out. “Right,” she said, quickly regaining her composure. “I just didn’t want you to feel left out. I do want to hear about what you’re up to as well.”

“Not much that you haven’t heard from him.”

“I want to hear from you. Tell me your favorite restaurant and we’ll go there for dinner tonight. I’m sure Steve won’t mind.” Peggy gave him one of her dazzling smiles. “It’s been fun catching up with him, but he’s not the only one who lives in New York.”

“I don’t really have any place nice-”

“It doesn’t need to be. As long as you like the food.”

“I’ll look,” He promised halfheartedly.

“Maybe close to Steve’s?” She bumped his shoulder with a grin. “Whatever you want.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent in Highland Park, ending with Steve and Peggy going back to Steve’s apartment and promising to meet up with Bucky for dinner in a few hours. Peggy had insisted they needed to go back to freshen up for the evening. He tried to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest as he wandered around Brooklyn to kill time. How long did it take to get back to Steve’s? How long would it take for them to freshen up? Would anything happen between the hours he’d see them?

By the time Bucky reached the restaurant they agreed to meet at, his mind was swimming with what-ifs. He barely had time to register Steve’s approach, much less the fact that Peggy was nowhere in sight.

“Peggy got a migraine,” Steve explained by way of greeting. “She asked me to grab takeout, but she said she didn’t want us to cancel dinner completely and told me meet you anyways.”

Bucky nodded dumbly. “I didn’t know she got migraines.”

“I didn’t either.” Steve shrugged. “It’s just us, though, so we can go somewhere else if this is too formal.”

Bucky glanced inside the restaurant. It looked nice, with cloth covering most of the surfaces and what appeared to be candles and flowers decorating each table. Sure, it looked like a good place for a date, but so did a lot of the other restaurants down the block. If Peggy was with them, it would’ve been acceptable as a nice dinner place, without the romantic connotation. But now -

He looked back at Steve, hoping his face wasn’t showing his internal panic and deliberation. “Let's eat here.”

Going out to dinner with Bucky was not unusual for Steve. Dinner with them was mostly takeout at one of their apartments. Sometimes, when Steve got really stressed about a deadline at school, Bucky would show up and meal prep a few things to make sure Steve ate something once a day.

But going to dinner with Bucky to a nice restaurant? That was unusual.

Peggy’s migraine had started, conveniently, right before she was supposed to shower for dinner. She’d all but collapsed onto the couch, squeezing her eyes tight and curling into a little ball.

“It happens sometimes when I don’t get a lot of sleep,” she explained after Steve’s initial panic.

“We didn’t go to sleep that late last night.” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “How long do they usually last?”

“Depends.” Her face twisted in discomfort. “I’m sorry.”

“We can move dinner to here,” He offered. “You can rest in my room.”

“Go out, I’ll be alright. I’ll pay for dinner if you get me something.” She promised. “Just leave me with some painkillers.”

“Are you sure?”

“Steve.”

He’d left her in the dark apartment, eyes still squeezed shut. He didn’t miss the way Bucky’s eyes searched for her as Steve approached by himself at the restaurant. It did look nice, though Steve wasn’t sure if it had been a recommendation from a friend or the result from a search on his phone.

Despite the migraine, Peggy had insisted on briefly inspecting Steve’s outfit for the evening, telling him to lean down so she could straighten his collar slightly. He’d picked something safe for the autumn evening - a navy sweater with a button down and a pair of khakis. She’d shooed him out of the apartment shortly after, promising to lock the door as she curled up again.

He tried not to feel overdressed standing next to Bucky’s work-jacket and jeans, especially as the host led them deeper into the restaurant.

Once they finally settled at a table, Steve’s anxiety began to kick in. Without Peggy, was this a date? It couldn’t be - Bucky thought him and Peggy were together, after all. He just had to keep appearances up until tomorrow, which was when he’d planned the break up with her.

“You look…nice,” Bucky said, snapping Steve out of his thoughts and setting his menu down. “I didn’t really think I had time to go home in between, so…”

“You look fine. I mean, not fine, bad, but you- You look good,” Steve rambled. Unsure of what to say next, he blurted out: “You ever think it’s weird that dress code decides where we eat?”

“I think it’s the opposite way around.”

“Like, if I went to the cafe, no one would blink an eye about me wearing that or sweatpants. But if I wore sweatpants here, it would be weird.” Steve laughed nervously.

“It might be out of respect for the food or to match the aesthetic.” Bucky suggested. “Maybe it’s an American thing. Remember in Europe, their casual dress is our formal?”

“Yeah. Maybe it’s a class thing. If you can afford a nice meal, you can afford the clothes.”

“I guess.”

“And whatever tip is on top of the meal,” Steve joked.

Bucky gave him a smile before the waitress returned to take their orders. Steve was grateful for the interruption, but was still struggling to come up with a new topic of conversation when the waitress suddenly reappeared with two glasses of champagne.

“I don’t think we ordered this,” Bucky said, looking at Steve in confusion.

“I didn’t,” Steve said immediately.

“No, the older couple nearby wanted to send it over.” The waitress explained as she set down the glasses. “Your food will be out shortly.”

Steve scanned the tables around them, his eyes landing on two men at a table a few feet away. They waved with big smiles on their faces.

“I wonder why-” Bucky looked at them and then the glasses. His eyes met Steve’s. “Do you know them?”

“I don’t,” Steve said. Before he could say anything else, the older couple was at their table.

“We just wanted to say hello,” The taller one said. “It’s so nice to see younger queer couples on dates here. We’ve been coming here for dinner every month for years.”

“We’re not-” Bucky started.

“Thank you.” Steve said.

“We won’t take up any more of your time. Enjoy your night, and the drinks,” The other man said, waving as they left.

“Thank you,” Bucky and Steve chorused automatically.

They sat for a moment of stunned silence, looking at the glasses of champagne as if they were foreign objects.

“First time it’s happened to me,” Steve admitted. “Peggy’s gonna love hearing about this.”

Bucky laughed, short and awkward. “Did they really think we were on a date?”

“I guess we kind of do look like we are on one.” I wish we were, Steve thought.

“Wouldn’t if Peggy was here,” Bucky said, his smile fading a little.

“At least we got free champagne out of it,” Steve tried, raising his glass. “To friendship?”

Bucky swallowed and nodded, following Steve’s lead. “To friendship.”

The rest of dinner was fairly uneventful. When the waitress started making her way to their table with the bill and a to-go box, Bucky went to pull out his card. Steve, well aware of what was about to happen, smoothly handed a card to the waitress. “Peggy said she’d cover it if we got her food,” He explained. Bucky hardly reacted and instead shoved his hand back into his pocket.

Steve’s apartment was only a few blocks from the restaurant, but Bucky insisted on walking him back. Steve tried not to fixate every time their shoulders bumped as they walked down the street. Bucky seemed even less talkative than usual, so Steve kept his mouth shut.

“Thinking hard?” Bucky asked when they were across the street from Steve’s apartment.

“I realized I spent a lot of today talking. I thought you might want a break,” Steve explained feebly.

“That’s never stopped you before,” Bucky said.

“Just don’t have anything worth saying.” They stopped at the steps of Steve’s building. The same ones he’d tripped over a few weeks ago.

Bucky studied Steve for a moment, the latter shrinking slightly under his gaze. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” Steve started to walk up the steps. “I’ll text you about tomorrow?”

Bucky blinked. “Sure.”

“Okay. Get home safe,” Steve said, scrambling up the rest of the steps. Bucky watched him go with confused eyes, unsure of what was going on in the other man’s head.

“I’m back,” Steve announced. Clearly, Peggy’s migraine had gone away, as she was curled up on Steve’s couch with one of his blankets. Most of the lights around her were on, and it looked like she was watching what appeared to be a documentary. She paused it as Steve stopped near the door to remove his shoes

“How was your date?” She asked with a bright smile. Steve looked at her quizzically.

“He thinks we’re dating, remember? Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, the migraine subsided an hour or so after you left,” Peggy answered quickly. “How was dinner?”

“I got you some pesto pasta.” Steve handed the to-go box to her with a fork from the kitchen and sat down next to her. “It was fine, I think? A little weird. This older couple - two men - paid for us to be served glasses of champagne and said they were excited to see ‘younger queer couples on dates.’”

Peggy hummed. “That was nice of them. It could have been a date if you said anything.”

Steve looked a little scandalized at the suggestion. “I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“Steve. We’re not dating to begin with.” She reminded him. “Migraine or not, I wanted you to go alone so you two could finally talk about this whole mess.”

“Oh.” Steve frowned as he connected the dots. “...So you didn’t have a migraine?”

“It was a small headache,” Peggy admitted with a chuckle. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be so daft.”

Steve put his head in his hands. “What are we going to do tomorrow?”

“My flight leaves in the early evening, so we can have one last breakfast.” Peggy grabbed Steve’s hand, squeezing it gently. “And then, I’m going home, and you’re sorting this mess out.”

Steve whined a little. Peggy let go of his hands, patting him on the back sympathetically.

“You’ll be fine. You were always going to be fine,” She promised. “I know you will.”

He rubbed his face, then leaned back on the couch. He looked at her, the corners of his eyes squinting together. She knew this look well. Bucky had called it “Sappy Steve”, which meant a disgustingly sweet compliment was only seconds away.

“You’re really something else.”

Peggy laughed this time. “You’re right about that.”

Bucky met the two of them the following morning at a diner closer to Manhattan since Peggy was flying out of LaGuardia. He’d already claimed a booth by the time they arrived, sipping coffee as he watched them stumble in. Steve had tripped over Peggy’s suitcase at least twice during their journey from his apartment, and tripped shortly before they had walked in. His embarrassment from that and the chill in the air made his cheeks extra pink as they sat down.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so graceful,” Peggy teased as she recounted the morning’s events to Bucky.

“He’s like a baby deer,” Bucky joked.

“We should sign you up for ballet or yoga,” Peggy said as they laughed, nudging Steve’s shoulder. “Teach you how to fall without hurting yourself.”

“I know how to fall correctly,” Steve said defensively, crossing his arms.

“I thought you fell wrong a few weeks ago.” Peggy raised an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, but it’s fine now-”

“You fell?” Bucky’s smile dropped. “When did this happen?”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Steve promised quickly. He turned to Peggy, avoiding Bucky’s gaze. “So, what are you going to do with your last hours in New York?”

Peggy quickly picked up the conversation, immediately rattling off a few places she wanted to see. Steve listened intently, occasionally asking more questions to keep her going. Bucky tried to focus, but all he could think about was that Steve had lied about getting hurt. Was this the first time? What had happened? What if he’d been hurt more than he was letting on? Why had he been alone to heal? Why did he tell Peggy and not him?

Breakfast was agonizingly slow as Bucky tried to rationalize all of the questions flying around in his head. He didn’t even try to fight the other two on paying the bill, and hung back slightly as they walked out towards the nearest subway station.

When they reached the station, Peggy looked back at him with a smile. “Steve, if I may have a word with Bucky,” she said, touching Bucky’s left arm with her hand.

“Sure,” Steve agreed hesitantly. He moved to inspect the nearby newsstand.

At Bucky’s confused expression, Peggy seemed to beam even more. “It was wonderful to see you two again,” she said, going in for a hug. “It’s been too long.”

“Did you know about Steve’s fall?” Bucky blurted out. Peggy nodded.

“Be patient with him, he’ll get there,” She said, patting his arm. “We both know he can be a little dense, but he makes up for it by how much he cares.”

“Right,” He said, slightly dumbfounded. Steve? Dense? What did that mean?

“I’m gonna talk to him and then we’ll say our goodbyes. I want one more picture before we go.”

Peggy went to Steve, smiling at him the way she had at Bucky and leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. Bucky tried to avoid listening in, but he caught a little as he waited.

“You’ll be okay,” Peggy was saying. “You both care too much to let it ruin things.”

He watched Steve nod with a small smile, then hug Peggy back. The two returned to Bucky a moment later.

“I’m happy I got to spend the weekend with both of you,” She said after she’d made them take a picture with her. “We really should visit each other more.”

“We’ll be here,” Steve promised. Bucky nodded along.

“Call if you need anything,” Peggy waved, and then disappeared into the subway with her suitcase.

The two men stood there for a moment after she was gone.

“That was fun,” Steve said as they turned away from the subway.

“You fell,” Bucky said suddenly, stopping in his tracks. “You fell and you didn’t tell me.”

“It was a minor ankle sprain-”

“Let me get this straight: You sprained your ankle,” Bucky said slowly, “And you didn’t tell me.”

Steve cringed a little at the wording. “Peggy broke up with me,” He said, desperate to avoid Bucky’s critical eye. “Just before she left.”

Bucky stared at him, then shook his head. He let out a bitter laugh. “Steve.”

“Can we walk? Please?”

Bucky gestured for Steve to move forward. “I haven’t been honest with you lately,” Steve started. “And I don’t know why it’s been so hard to come clean.”

They stopped at the end of the block, waiting for the light to turn. “Start from the beginning,” Bucky finally said.

The dam that had been holding everything in for the past month broke as they continued forward. “I sprained my ankle and didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. And after that, I just couldn’t tell you.”

“And Peggy? The DC trip?”

“We never dated, not really,” Steve rushed to explain as they took a turn. “I needed to explain why I was quiet all weekend because I’d been sick and at home with a sprained ankle-”

“You were sick too? Christ, Steve, what the fuck-”

“-so I said I went to DC and then when you asked, you asked how it was and you thought we were dating-”

“Why else would you visit her alone?”

“-and I didn’t correct you.” Steve finished. “We were never dating. The trip didn’t happen. Once I realized what you thought about everything, I asked her to visit and break up with me in front of you so it wouldn’t seem so fake.”

“So she knew everything,” Bucky concluded. “You two planned to lie to me-”

“I made her come up here. She faked the migraine last night so we could talk alone. And I messed it up.” Steve admitted. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about any of it from the start.” Steve moved to stand closer to the building next to them, stopping his stride. “I’m really, really sorry. I just didn’t want you to worry about me.”

The gravity of everything seemed to hit all at once. He’d lied over a stupid injury, and kept lying, for what? Just so Bucky didn’t have to worry? As his thoughts got louder, Steve felt the nausea and tears rolling in.

“There’s a park a few blocks away,” Bucky said softly, putting his hands on Steve’s shaky shoulders. “We can sit there and talk.”

Steve numbly followed Bucky through the crowd, still stuck in his head as Bucky found an empty bench in a neighborhood park.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Steve begged after a few minutes of silence.

“You’re a mess,” Bucky huffed. “I really thought you and Peggy were together.”

“You’re not mad about the ankle?”

“Oh, I’m pissed about the ankle,” Bucky said. “But I am a little relieved.”

“Relieved?” Steve stared at him. “About what?”

Bucky leaned back on the bench. “Just happy you’re not with Peggy.”

“Why would you be- Wait.”

Come on, Rogers.

“You- Me?” Steve squeaked, pointing at Bucky, then himself.

“You’re gonna need to be more specific than that.”

“Okay, wait, wait.” Steve said, sitting up straighter. “You.” He pointed at Bucky again.

“Yes.”

“Me.” He pointed at himself.

“Yep.”

“What the fuck- how long?” Steve demanded.

“Long,” Bucky found himself echoing. His mouth felt dry. “Long enough. Pepper and Zelda saw it the day they met you. And,” he took a deep breath, “probably a little more before that, too.”

“That’s been over two years,” Steve said.

“Definitely longer,” Bucky corrected weakly. Steve put his head in his hands. “Didn’t want to risk anything.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment. “I think my brain is broken,” he said eventually.

“You survived a homemade explosive detonation,” Bucky reminded him.

Steve raised his head again, shaking it before putting his chin in the palm of his hand. “Two years,” He repeated.

“Longer.”

“We could have been dating for the last. Two. Years.”

Bucky’s head spun. “I’m sorry, ‘we’?”

“Yeah, last night could’ve been a date-”

“Steve, what are you talking about-”

“I’ve had feelings for you since we were twelve,” Steve said suddenly, eyes shining. “I followed you into the army and I followed you home to New York after. I spend an hour going back and forth between Manhattan and Brooklyn so I can see you at work every morning you have a shift. I didn’t think you’d ever- Two years.”

Bucky froze. This whole time, they’d been going in circles, too scared to speak directly but longing for the other anyways. Had it always been this easy?

“Can we go out?” Steve asked, interrupting Bucky’s thoughts. “On a date? I mean, would you want to go to dinner with me? Tonight?”

He nodded, a smile growing on his face. “Pick me up at seven.”