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The city was quieter than Steve expected it to be.
Not silent, just its normal noise reduced to a soft hum, the kind of lull that settled in after a job well done. Sirens had faded into the distance, the police had taken away all the criminals, and now the adrenaline that usually buzzed under Steve’s skin was slowly ebbing away.
The cold air of the night was brushing against his face as he sat on the edge of a low rooftop, shield resting beside him, boots dangling over the side like he had nowhere else to be.
Not far from there, Bucky was leaning back against a ventilation unit.
Steve could see the city lights in dull flashes crossing Bucky’s metal arm. And when he went back to look at his face, he looked… good. Tired, sure, but the kind of tired that came from effort, not exhaustion. The kind Steve remembered from long nights running through Brooklyn streets, ducking into alleys, laughing too hard over nothing.
For a moment, it felt like that.
Like they were back in time, back to the 30s.
“Not bad for a two-man job,” Steve said eventually, breaking the silence.
Bucky huffed out a breath. “You always say that.”
“And I’m usually right.”
“You need a new repertory, old man.”
Bucky smiled; it was small but real, and Steve felt something in his chest had loosened. He didn’t comment on it. He didn’t need to. Some victories didn’t require acknowledgement.
Bucky separated from the ventilation and walked until he was next to Steve.
He sat down on the edge too.
They waited, listening to the city.
Steve stretched his shoulders, wincing slightly.
“You holding up?” he asked, glancing over.
“Yeah,” Bucky said easily. Too easily, maybe, but still Steve let it pass. “The team’s been keeping me busy. And teaching me more about this era.”
Steve turned his head, interest piqued. “How are you adjusting, anyway? New team, new routines. Different kind of chaos. New time even when you had been around a few years.”
Bucky snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”
Steve waited. He’d learnt a long time ago that Bucky talked best when he didn’t feel rushed.
“They’re… loud,” Bucky continued. “But not in a bad way. Like the whole world is louder now, more…awake. Alexei’s like a walking volume problem. I think he thrives on attention. He’s actually not terrible once you get past the ego.”
Steve smiled. He could picture that easily.
“And Yelena’s sharp,” Bucky went on. “Smart. Knows exactly what she’s doing. Keeps everyone in line, mostly. But she is also a menace; one must not touch her knives.”
Steve smirked. “Ava?” he prompted then.
“Quiet. Disappears a lot…as in literally.” A pause, a short one. “Bob’s… trying. He’s got good instincts. Just needs time to figure out how to use his powers without disintegrating all of us. Ava almost got impaled last time.”
Steve nodded, filing it all away. It sounded like a team still finding its footing, but it was pretty solid. Better than he’d feared.
“And John?” Steve asked casually.
There was a subtle shift, but Steve caught it anyway.
Bucky didn’t answer right away like he did with the others. He shifted slightly, adjusting how he was sitting, his gaze drifting out over the city. When he did speak, his voice was softer.
“John’s… good,” he said. “He cares. Sometimes too much. Gets in his own head, but he shows up. Always.”
Steve watched him carefully now.
Bucky talked about John longer than he had about anyone else. Not in a rambling way, it seemed just… kind of warmer.
More thoughtful.
Like each word had weight.
“The team listens to him,” Bucky added. “Even when they pretend not to. And Yelena and he click very well. I sometimes think they are siblings.”
Steve laughed a bit. “Sounds like a decent right hand.”
“Yeah,” Bucky said. Then, after a beat, “Yeah, he is.”
Bucky was smiling, and the look in his eyes was as if he was remembering some distant memory.
Steve didn’t say anything right away. He didn’t need to push. He just stored the observation away, like he’d done with a thousand others over the years.
They sat in companionable silence again. Steve leaned back on his hands, looking up at the stars barely visible through the haze of city light.
“You seem settled,” he said eventually. “More than you had ever been.”
Bucky glanced at him, expression unreadable for a moment. Then he looked away again.
“I am,” he said. “I believe so.”
Steve smiled faintly.
He didn’t need more; it was enough.
There was another pause, longer this time.
Steve felt it before he heard it, the way Bucky’s breathing shifted, the way his shoulders tensed like he was bracing for something.
“Steve?” Bucky said.
“Yeah, pal?”
“I’m… seeing someone.”
Steve turned his head slowly, eyebrows lifting just a bit. He didn’t look as surprised as he should have been; he was surprised, but at the same time he wasn’t.
Steve sighed softly, warmly. “I figured it.”
“What?” Bucky blinked. “You did?”
Steve chuckled. “Buck, I’ve known you since you and I were babies; like, I even remember how you couldn’t stop talking when you were nervous as a kid. You think I wouldn’t notice?”
Bucky shook his head.
A small and incredulous smile was tugging at his mouth. “Guess I didn’t realise it was that obvious.”
“It’s not like it was obvious,” Steve said gently. “Just… noticeable.”
Steve paused.
Then he added, “That explains the looks.”
Bucky groaned, dropping his head against his hands. “You noticed that too?”
Steve laughed. “You don’t even realise you do it. You track him like he’s part of your peripheral vision. Every time I see you.”
Bucky didn’t deny it.
“So,” Steve continued, tone easy, “I’m guessing it’s John.”
Bucky turned his head, studying Steve’s face like he was searching for something.
Judgement.
Concern.
Disapproval.
He found none.
“Yeah,” Bucky said quietly. “It’s John.”
Steve nodded, as if that settled something. “Makes sense.”
“It does?”
“Yeah,” Steve said. “You’re calmer around him. More… present.”
Bucky swallowed, gaze dropping to his hands. “I didn’t plan for it,” he admitted. “It just kind of… happened.”
“That’s usually how love works,” Steve said.
Bucky let out a slow breath. “When did you start to notice it?”
Steve’s eyebrows raised. “Really? Like since the first conjugated mission we had. The way you protected his back… I noticed that something was going on.”
Bucky couldn't help but laugh.
“I wanted to tell you as soon as we got together, but well, the missions, your retirement life,” Bucky sighed. “And I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”
That caught Steve’s attention. He turned fully toward Bucky now.
“Why wouldn’t I take it well?”
Bucky hesitated. “I don’t know. I guess… I didn’t want you to worry. Or think I was rushing into something. Or…”
“Buck,” Steve interrupted gently. “Look at me.”
Bucky did.
“You don’t owe me explanations,” Steve said. “You’re allowed to want things. You’re allowed to choose people.”
A flicker of emotion crossed Bucky’s face, something raw and unguarded.
Steve recognised it immediately.
He’d seen it in mirrors before.
“I just want you safe,” Steve added. “And happy.”
Bucky’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I am.”
Steve smiled then.
Not the Captain America smile, not the one for cameras or crowds, but the one he saved for moments like this.
A smile he had forgotten he could still make.
“You know,” he said, “I’m proud of you.”
Bucky looked at him, startled.
“For what?”
“For choosing your life,” Steve said simply.
Bucky didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
“So…how long have you been together?” Steve asked.
He was really curious, so he betted on it for at least two months.
Bucky’s ears turned pink.
“Three weeks.”
Steve didn’t show it, but he was surprised.
He laughed it off.
“Thought it was longer. You really fell hard, huh?”
That comment made him receive a soft smack on his shoulder from Bucky.
They moved on together, side by side.
The city opening up below them, familiar, changed, still standing.
And for the first time in a long while, Steve felt certain that they were too.