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Walker watched — and that was almost strange.
He noticed how Bucky picked up that damned coffee mug whenever they were back at the Tower. He noticed how Bucky’s hand covered the upper part of it, his pinky hooked through the handle because his hand was too big to hold it properly and still leave room for the steam to escape, so he needed other maneuvers.
Walker watched the way Bucky sat in that kitchen chair, almost withdrawn — legs spread, posture almost relaxed, eyes fixed on his own… wait. Eyes fixed on him?
John startled, turned to the side, and pretended he hadn’t been — quite deliberately until now — watching his teammate. He grabbed his own coffee mug, nearly bumped into Ava as he left the kitchen, and headed down the hallway in search of the person who could help him in that moment — or almost that, at least.
“What’s with that face? Did Ava pop up in front of you again around a corner?”
Yelena had the reports open on the conference room screen, other briefings too, but none of it caught Walker’s attention right now.
“Since when did you know Bucky was gay?”
There was no time to ease into it — he wanted to know how long he’d been the only blind one there.
“Uh… always?” She moved her hands, as if trying to understand what the point of that question even was.
“Always when?” Walker sat down beside Yelena, drawing her attention, making her turn her chair to look at him more closely. They were side by side.
“Walker, I was trained in the Red Room. The Widows tried every possible way to get rid of the Winter Soldier whenever they crossed paths — and none of them ever succeeded in the seduction department. And I highly doubt it was only because of all the mental conditioning they did to him.”
That heavy accent, the tone Yelena always seemed to adopt when speaking to him — clear, growing softer with each passing day, like she was talking to family. Almost the same tone she used when she spoke about Natasha.
“That’s your only reason?” He couldn’t have known any of that, so it wouldn’t really be fair for Bucky to assume everyone already knew. Maybe it was still a surprise to most of the new Avengers — him included.
“Well, after that, Alexei always told stories.”
“About him and Bucky?”
“What?! Ew! No!” Yelena made a disgusted face, clearly hating that the image had entered her mind as quickly as Walker had thrown it out like a curse. “Just rumors. Not about him and Bucky — just about… you know, the Soldier.”
He still waited for more, but so far, all he had was conjecture, luck, and gossip.
“So when we were here — second night, I think — I asked him what it was like to be gay back then, in the army… and he told me everything was hidden. Still is, if you really pay attention.”
Hm. So she really did know.
“And it never occurred to you to tell me?”
Walker’s tone was serious. The coffee was still hot in his mug; he managed another sip before Yelena’s hand stole it from him. She took a sip herself and didn’t give it back.
“You didn’t know? You two worked together before. He knew about your divorce, Walker.”
“Well, yeah, but we never sat down and talked about it.”
Yelena looked at him as if he’d been a terrible friend to Bucky — when the guy had literally broken his arm in a fight, insulted him, pointed a finger in his face, and hated him since the very first moment they’d met.
“And you?” Walker knew Yelena had no romantic interests; she’d mentioned that to him a while back. “I mean… how did you know you didn’t have any interest in… well, anything?”
She let out a nasal laugh, her face turned toward him as she moved her chair a little closer — almost without realizing it. She leaned back, legs up on the conference table, something she usually did only when alone there.
“I think I always knew. It wasn’t just fear of letting myself want something that would’ve been impossible in my old life. I just knew I didn’t want it. Never had butterflies in my stomach, never got that nervous flutter, no racing heartbeat — nothing like that, for anyone. Romance doesn’t charm me, and everything else, frankly, feels unnecessary. But I don’t judge anyone who enjoys it. It’s just not for me.”
She spoke to him the way someone talks to their own reflection — calm, unguarded. She felt safe with Walker, knowing he wouldn’t judge her, that he’d listen. And then she noticed his confused look — and she knew it wasn’t because of what she’d just said.
“Something bothering you? Don’t tell me you’re gonna ask to change roommates next time we’re on a mission. No one can stand sleeping near Alexei.”
“No!” He answered so fast it startled even himself. “That’s not it — I don’t have a problem sharing a room with Bucky. I’m not an idiot who thinks that just because he likes men, everyone’s automatically his type.”
That wasn’t even close to the problem running through his blond head.
“Good. I had all my bets placed on you not being a jerk — would’ve hated to lose.”
She always used that line when she wanted to give a compliment without actually giving one.
She stood up, now in need of more coffee to tackle the work ahead.
“But, you know… just so you know. Theoretically, you are his type.”
She left him behind with that little bomb of a statement.
Not that being “his type” really made him his type.
Bucky had learned to tolerate him as a teammate — and that was about as far as Walker could bet Bucky would ever let him get.
Two whole days had passed. Walker acted normally — or at least he thought he did — though every chance he got, he was watching Bucky. Whether in the corner of the room, during training, or over coffee. Even in their meeting, his focus wasn’t on what was being discussed, but on Barnes.
Barnes was the first to leave when it ended. Walker didn’t waste a second following him — their steps almost identical down the corridor, same rhythm, same beat, same steady way of moving, like they were still in stealth mode.
“How did you find out?”
“Oh, right, because I read minds now to know what you’re talking about, huh?”
Barnes didn’t stop walking. Walker kept up easily, following almost without realizing that it was leading them straight to Bucky’s quarters.
“That you… you know!?”
Walker gestured a lot — Bucky caught it from the corner of his eye, almost amused by John’s clumsy, restless way of expressing himself, the anxious energy.
“We’re still on that topic from the other night?”
He stopped abruptly, turning toward Walker so fast that John froze just inches away — forcing Bucky to look slightly upward to keep his eyes on him.
He could’ve brushed John off, just turned and walked away, left him standing there with that damned lost-puppy face — the one abandoned in the rain, out in the cold.
Bucky took a deep breath, the air leaving his lips likely brushing against Walker’s beard — though the man didn’t seem to care.
“I’m sorry, it’s just… I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Walker sounded so genuine — though he quickly realized how that might’ve come across.
“I mean, not about you with other men, I wasn’t thinking about that — but the rest.”
“The rest?”
An eyebrow lifted — Bucky was clearly amused, though he didn’t let it show.
“I’m really putting my foot in it.”
He looked down, took a step back, running a hand through his hair as he turned halfway around on his heels — only to stop again, facing Bucky.
“I meant… I just couldn’t stop thinking about how you figured out that… that you—”
“Liked men?”
“Yeah.”
Walker was awkward, flushed, unable to meet his eyes.
Unfortunately, Bucky knew him well enough to tell John wasn’t being an idiot — he wasn’t judging. He was curious.
“Ten minutes. Rooftop.”
That was all Bucky said before turning and heading for his room.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He had — it just didn’t answer the question he’d asked.
But maybe in ten minutes, up on the rooftop, he’d get that answer — or a few of them.
He had so many questions to ask.
He’d ask as long as Bucky’s patience allowed — maybe not even one full question’s worth — but he’d take whatever scraps he could get.
Something in him craved it: answers.
Something he didn’t quite understand yet.
Walker went straight there — turned down that hallway and took the flights of stairs as if they were nothing. He was on the rooftop before two minutes had even passed.
Sweaty hands, fingers twisting together as if to keep his mind busy while the wind lashed against his face — but it felt good, the freshness soothing the cursed heat that seemed to burn his skin. And maybe it was burning, judging by the redness in his cheeks and ears. Even his neck seemed to radiate heat and color.
He was nervous, curious, and afraid of crossing a line. Bucky was a private man, after all. And the bond they’d built still felt fragile — thin as stretched nylon, ready to snap at any moment.
“Came straight here?”
Barnes was a few steps away, hair blowing in the wind, a jacket thrown on to cut the chill.
Walker just nodded — no reason to lie.
“You’ve got a few minutes, so… ask.”
Bucky’s hands were tucked into the front pockets of his jeans — a stance that said he was open, but still on guard.
He watched Walker standing near the railing, hair mussed by the wind, eyes an icy blue that contrasted against the sunset sky.
“How did you know you liked…?”
“That question’s way too vague, Walker. Knew I liked what?”
Bucky knew perfectly well what he meant — but seeing Walker blush that hard was more than enough payment for having to talk about his personal life.
“Kissing men… men. Just men.”
“Oh, so you don’t want to know how I found out I liked kissing men — just when I realized I liked men. Complex.”
He started pacing, mostly to build up some suspense around his answer — and from the corner of his eye, he could see Walker growing impatient, clearly struggling not to laugh at his teammate.
“It was before the army.”
His tone was nostalgic — of course it was. Such distant, different times. Something so fragmented in his mind it felt more like a half-forgotten movie he’d seen once than his own life.
“I’d feel something every time I was around a certain person. Sweaty hands, that urge to always be close, always present.”
Their eyes met.
Bucky was much closer now, stopping beside Walker, resting his arms on the railing, looking down instead of at the man watching him.
“But I, hm… ignored it. Anyone would’ve, back then — especially in that time.”
The smile he gave was tinged with sadness.
“So I went out with a woman now and then, trying to recreate the same feeling — that flutter in my stomach, the sweaty hands. It never happened.”
Bucky looked at Walker — that clear, piercing blue meeting his gaze — as he shared, after so long, a story with someone who truly seemed interested in hearing it.
“And when were you sure?”
Walker leaned back against the railing, arms crossed — but despite the posture, he was really listening, genuinely curious.
“Oh, well… that part involves kissing a guy, and you said you didn’t want to hear that part.”
Bucky was laughing now.
His hand gave Walker’s forearm a light tap as he straightened up, posture relaxing again. Hands went back into the pockets of his jacket as he started to walk away, unhurried — each step deliberate, following a path already decided.
Apparently, Walker’s time was up — but he still had questions, still had doubts. He wanted to know what the difference between the kisses had been. What Bucky had felt. And all of this because… why?
He didn’t notice when his legs slid out on the floor, his body sinking against the railing until he was sitting on the ground. Knees bent, elbows resting on them, hands clasped in front of his face, chin propped on top — staring ahead without really seeing anything there.
Why so much curiosity?
Sure, he wanted to know how he’d missed those details, why he was the last one in the group to find out. But… was that really all?
Wasn’t there some other reason why his curiosity hadn’t let him sleep properly these past few days?
Bucky didn’t look gay — but according to his own words, he didn’t have to look like it; he just had to like men.
But what about all that talk about sweaty hands and that feeling in the stomach?
When was the last time Walker had felt any of that?
Olivia? Well, sure.
He’d wanted to be close to her, to be present.
He’d felt the heartbeat, the rush — but it had all cooled with time, faded, turned to ashes of what once was fire.
After Olivia, he never…
Before her, he hadn’t either.
Well — there had been something. Something he’d ignored back then. Something that had felt like a weed growing in his chest when it was torn apart. Something that haunted him every day when he looked in the mirror and saw the dog tags he still wore around his neck, along with the other set.
But that was brotherly love, right?
Right. It was.
Well, he’d gotten part of his answer. He should be satisfied with that small victory.
When he returned to his room, everything was quiet — except for his mind.
When the night turned into a mess of broken sleep for no particular reason, and the clock hit four a.m., he was already up — showered, dressed in workout clothes.
A run on the treadmill and a few rounds with the punching bag would help clear out the rest of his tired, crowded mind.
Bucky being there doing basically the same thing he had planned didn’t help one bit — especially when that sweat-slicked body became all Walker could focus on as he entered the training room, pretending not to look at Bucky’s broad, muscular back, the way his muscles flexed and rolled with each stride on the treadmill — fast, steady, relentless.
He pretended not to notice the damp hair sticking to the back of Bucky’s neck, or the way Bucky looked over his shoulder when he walked in — licking his lips before pulling them into that almost-forced kind of smile.
He wasn’t going to ask the stupid question about whether Bucky hadn’t slept either — clearly, neither of them had, considering they were both there before sunrise.
He thought about taking off his shirt, but kept it on. Turned on the treadmill and started running. Fast and demanding, as always. It was a competition — even if only in his head, only with himself. Walker always pushed to the limit; that was how he’d been trained — and he wasn’t even talking about the army.
“You still have a question?”
Bucky was the first to break the silence — until then, only the sound of footsteps and treadmills filled the space.
“What was the difference?”
He didn’t waste time. He glanced sideways at Bucky — only catching the vibranium arm and his chest in his peripheral vision, which turned out to be a terrible combination for concentration — though definitely not unpleasant to look at.
“You don’t want to know.”
Bucky slowed his pace, little by little, watching Walker as he grabbed a water bottle and took a swig — some spilling over his lips, running down his chin, and trailing over his chest. A detail Walker very much noticed, by the way.
“Well, I asked, didn’t I?”
He couldn’t look — couldn’t risk turning his head, not when he knew he’d blush. At least while running, he could blame the red face on exertion.
Bucky finally stopped the treadmill.
He stepped down and moved right beside Walker, one hand resting on the treadmill’s console, the other holding the bottle.
“When I kissed those women… it was all just… endless. Like a drill with no shortcut — just memorization and repetition. But…”
He looked straight at Walker.
John felt his stride falter under the weight of that stare. His heartbeat stumbled as he glanced sideways at Bucky, wetting his lips before facing forward again — trying to pretend the conversation was perfectly normal.
“When I kissed a guy for the first time, my whole body reacted. Nothing rehearsed — just… desire. Electricity and—”
“And?”
“Walker.”
He lifted both hands, as if pointing out the obvious.
And well, an erection wouldn’t exactly be easy to hide.
“Ah. Right.”
Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to connect the dots — because hearing Bucky explain that in detail would’ve been way too embarrassing.
“That’s it?”
Bucky grabbed the towel hanging on the treadmill he’d been using and ran it over his face and hair.
“Yeah… of course it is. Yes.”
Walker kept running like he could actually get somewhere — poor guy.
Bucky slowly started walking away, still glancing back just in time to catch Walker looking, then quickly turning forward again as if Bucky’s gaze had burned him.
Bucky had no idea it was going to get even more awkward the next time they shared a room.