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Bucky doesn’t spend much time looking at himself in the mirror, a habit left over from the early days of his departure from Hydra. He especially avoids looking at his eyes, too scared of what or who might be looking back. Tony likes the artfully-stubbled look, so he doesn’t bother with a close shave very often either. For these reasons, it takes him a while to notice the changes, but now he sure is seeing them.
He peers closer at his face in the mirror, stomach jumping with nerves. ‘FRIDAY, have you got any pictures of my face from a year ago?’ he calls out to the AI. From the bedroom he hears one of Tony’s many tablets ping, presumably as a photo is pulled up.
The tablet screen displays a picture of Tony and Bucky together, eating ice cream and sticking their tongues out at the camera, and it would be perfect if Bucky didn’t have his face screwed up and his hair in his eyes. ‘Are there any others?’ he asks FRIDAY.
She sends a series of photos to the tablet, but none of them show what he wants, and why do none of the photos of him just have him looking normal? He’s always pulling a face or grinning sappily at Tony or not looking at the camera properly and this is vital why can he not see what he needs?
‘Is there any security footage?’ he asks in desperation, and FRIDAY apparently takes a second to consider that request before answering in the negative.
‘I’m sorry, Bucky, but I don’t have any close ups of your face. Can I ask what you’re looking for?’
‘I think I have wrinkles,’ Bucky gulps, and his stomach twists again with nerves. ‘I can’t tell though.’
FRIDAY is silent for a second. ‘I see. Perhaps you could consult with Doctor Banner? He might be in a better position to help you,’ she suggests, and Bucky nods.
‘Don’t say anything to Tony,’ he pleads, and FRIDAY promises not to breathe a word.
Bruce is alone in his lab, and looks up promptly when Bucky knocks on the glass door. He gestures Bucky in and Bucky shoves down his instinctive dislike of the clinical lab with its shiny machines, takes a deep breath and pushes open the door.
‘I think I’m getting wrinkles,’ he blurts out before Bruce can speak. ‘Around my eyes. Is there anything – can you check?’
Bruce sets down the towel he was using to dry his hands. ‘Uh, sure, there are – I can check,’ he tells Bucky, leading him over to a workstation.
*
‘Well,’ Bruce tells him two hours later. ‘I can’t tell you if those are new wrinkles or if you’ve just not noticed them before, but I can tell you that the tests I’ve run show some small loss of elasticity to your skin and definite cell ageing. If you don’t have wrinkles already, you will within the next few years.’ Bruce smiles wryly. ‘Congratulations, you’re getting older.’
‘Thanks,’ Bucky murmurs, sliding off the stool he’s on. His stomach is jumping and twisting more than ever, and he needs to find Tony. Right now.
Waving distractedly at Bruce, he heads out of the lab. ‘FRIDAY, where’s Tony?’
‘Boss is in a shareholder’s meeting,’ FRIDAY informs him. ‘He should be finished within an hour.’
‘Right,’ Bucky says, a little blankly. Pepper will not be amused if he calls Tony away, so he’ll just have to hold on until Tony’s home. Accordingly, he takes the elevator back to their floor, making his way immediately to the balcony when he gets there. The sun is beginning to set, the air winter cold, but Bucky still relishes the feel of it against his skin. He tends to run hot, the super soldier serum keeping his blood pumping strongly, so he doesn’t notice how long he’s been outside, staring off into space until warm hands slide round his waist and he feels Tony’s familiar chest against his back. ‘Hey, handsome.'
‘Hey yourself,’ Bucky returns, and Tony gives him an extra squeeze before letting go and moving to stand by his side. ‘Good meeting?’ he asks.
‘Eh,’ Tony shrugs, ‘same old same old. Pep sends her love.’
‘Good,’ Bucky murmurs, distracted by the way the light from the room behind them bathes Tony’s skin in golden warmth. In the low light, Bucky can’t see the tell-tale signs of Tony’s age – the grey at his temples, the lines around his eyes and mouth from decades of smiling and laughing – but he knows they’re there. ‘Come on,’ he says, wrapping an arm round Tony’s waist. ‘Let’s go in.’
Inside, Tony turns to look at him in concern. ‘You Ok, babe? You’re quiet.’
Bucky nods jerkily. ‘Yeah, I’m… I noticed something today,’ he blurts, can’t think of how to broach the subject so just goes for it. ‘I saw them in the mirror an’… Bruce checked, he did tests an’…’ he takes a breath. ‘I’ve got wrinkles,’ he manages in a slightly more controlled way. ‘My cells are ageing.’
Tony takes in a deep breath, breaths out hard. ‘He’s sure? Of course he’s sure, he’s Bruce, he doesn’t do bad science.’ His gaze goes examining, and Bucky can almost feel the laser focus on this face, the minute examination of the creases in his skin. He hold still, letting Tony look all he wants, letting him make it real, letting it sink in.
‘You’re getting wrinkles,’ Tony agrees, and his laser focus breaks into a smile. ‘Does this mean I have to stop calling you my boy-toy now?’
‘I guess so,’ Bucky agrees, heart swooping and rising as he feels a matching smile taking over his face, bigger and brighter than Tony’s. ‘I’m not young an’ handsome any more. I’m gonna get wrinkly an’ saggy.’
‘Your hair will turn grey,’ Tony agrees, looking as giddy as Bucky feels. ‘You won’t be able to do ten thousand push ups before breakfast any more.’
‘I’ll start going to bed early and complainin’ about the kids these days,’ Bucky rhapsodises, and Tony snorts.
‘Old man yells at cloud,’ he says, and rises up on his toes to press a kiss beside Bucky’s eye. He hold position a minute, skin to skin. ‘You’ll look amazing with grey hair and wrinkles,’ he whispers. ‘I can’t wait to see them.’ Then he drops down and steps back, taking Bucky’s hand as he does. ‘Come on, let’s go and get dinner to celebrate, then I’m going to brag to Pepper about my incredibly hot silver-fox-to-be boyfriend.’ Bucky laughs loud and lets himself be pulled towards the kitchen, holding tight to Tony’s hand.
*
Later, in bed, lights dimmed and the room feeling close and intimate, Tony holds him as reality sets in and the tears come. Tony just kisses his forehead and pulls him closer as Bucky cries out his relief and happiness and fear.
He’d whispered this to Tony, late at night under cover of darkness – the fear that he wouldn’t grow old, that the serum would stop him from ageing and he’d just go on and on until everything he knew, everyone he loved was gone and he stood alone. Tony had held him then too, but he couldn’t promise it would be fine, wouldn’t press platitudes into Bucky’s skin and make promises he couldn’t keep. Now though, he promises that they’ll grow old together, that Bucky isn’t immortal and won’t be left forever suspended from the touch of time. It’s here. It’s happening.
Neither of them knows how things will progress. In the morning, Bucky will talk to Bruce, ask him to run more tests, try to determine the path the serum will take. Will it be a slow decline, or will there be a sudden sharp drop off? Maybe only time will tell, but in the end, time will tell.
Tony drops another kiss onto his forehead, and Bucky tilts his head up to catch his lips, salty with the taste of Tony’s own tears. He doesn’t have to ask to know they’re happy tears.