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Paris looks a lot different now than it did the last time Steve was here, back in the forties. It's cleaner, much of the damage from World War II has been repaired, and honestly, Steve can see why Dernier was so taken with the place. It feels a little like a dream, walking through the streets after the sun has set, walking along the Seine with nothing but his thoughts for company.
It's been almost a year since D.C., since Steve learned that Bucky was alive and had been all this time. He's been trying to find Bucky ever since that day at Fury's empty grave, but it's been... tricky. Sam and Natasha have helped, and Steve will always be grateful for that, but all they've found over the past several months are rumors and the ruins of Hydra labs. They've been constantly one step behind, and it's starting to wear on Steve.
Sam had gone back to the U.S. when his sister called a week or so ago, requesting his help with her business and kids. When he'd left, he'd not-so-subtly suggested that maybe it was time for Steve to do the same. Natasha had said that maybe he had a point; at the time, Steve had denied it, said he wasn't giving up yet. Now, though, with a week of no new leads, he's starting to think that maybe they're right. Maybe it's time to back off, to keep their eyes and ears open, but let Bucky come to them. Every instinct Steve has is arguing against it, demanding that Steve not stop until he's got Bucky in arm's reach again, but he hasn't seen Bucky except in security footage for months. If Bucky's not ready to be found, they won't find him.
Steve's footsteps lead him back to the hotel without conscious input from his mind, and when he pushes through the lobby door, Steve shakes off his maudlin thoughts. He resolves to ask Natasha about it tomorrow; she'd said she was meeting with a contact tonight for something not related to the Winter Soldier, and he doesn't want to risk interrupting.
Steve lifts his keycard to open the door to his room, but freezes when music drifts into his ears. Deja vu strikes, and he has to shake his head; there's soft French coming from inside his room, not jazz, but... he didn't leave the radio on.
Unfortunately, Steve can't just go climb in the fire escape this time; there isn't one on this building. He grits his teeth and moves to the side of the door, carefully unlocking it, nudging it open with his foot once the lock disengages. Nothing happens, and Steve can see his shield leaning against the closet door next to the room door, exactly where he left it. Steve waits another heartbeat before pushing the door the rest of the way open, scooping up his shield and kicking the door shut behind him in one swift movement. This room is smaller than his apartment in D.C., so it only takes a moment to sweep it.
Steve's gaze lands on the figure sitting in one of the chairs next to the small table, back to a corner and sitting in shadow - but the left arm is fully visible, silver metal glinting in the light from the street.
Steve doesn't drop the shield, though he does take another step into the room, gaze fixed on the other person. "You know, it's rude to break into people's rooms."
"Sorry," Bucky rasps. "I would've called ahead, but it was kind of urgent."
Steve frowns; something about Bucky's voice sounds off. "How urgent are we talking?" he asks, reaching for the light switch.
A moment later the room is illuminated, and Steve sucks in a sharp breath at the sight before him. Bucky gives him a smile that's more of a grimace, teeth stained red. "Pretty urgent."
"Jesus, Buck," Steve breathes - but he doesn't drop the shield just yet. "I - Shit, Nat will kill me if I don't check. It's really you, isn't it?"
Bucky coughs out a laugh. "Yeah, Stevie. I'm still missing a few marbles, but it's me."
It feels wrong to still be standing still, but Steve has to be sure. "Tell me something only we know."
The look Bucky gives him is indulgent. "Our first kiss," he says, "was on your sixteenth birthday. I stole some of my dad's whiskey and we climbed up onto the roof to watch the fireworks." He laughs again. "There was less than a quarter of the bottle left, but you were so small back then, it took nothin' to get you drunk. So you kissed me, and then you almost fell off the roof, you were so shocked that I kissed you back."
Steve drops the shield onto his bed and is halfway to Bucky when it actually hits the mattress. "God, okay, it is you," he says, a little shaky as he grabs the other chair and pulls it closer so he can sit. "What the hell happened?"
"Oh, you think this is bad? You should see the other guys."
"I have seen the other guys," Steve says dryly. "We've been following you for a while, trying to catch up."
If this is news to Bucky, he doesn't show it. "Well, these guys got in a lucky shot. Or three."
Steve eyes the copious amount of blood on Bucky's gear. "At least. Any chance they’ll come knocking?” When Bucky shakes his head, Steve nods, takes a breath and braces himself. “What hurts the worst?"
"My shoulder," Bucky says, jerking his chin to his right. "I can't reach it to get the bullet out."
Steve grimaces. "Alright, let's get all this off of you," he says, reaches for the clasps on Bucky's vest.
Bucky is quiet while Steve strips him down, almost docile, though Steve can't speak to how much of that is trust and how much is blood loss. He'd like to think it's the former, but he can't quite contain his hiss of shock when he uncovers the two gut shots in addition to the one in his shoulder, plus the scrapes and bruises that are covering the rest of him. The bullet wounds are still bleeding sluggishly, and Steve doesn't know how long he's been in the hotel room, but he's willing to bet that he's healing slower than Steve himself would.
Bucky keeps his gaze trained on Steve's face while Steve takes stock. His voice is surprisingly gentle when he speaks. "I'm sorry. This isn't how I wanted to come in."
"Yeah?" Steve asks, keeps his own voice quiet as he carefully pulls away Bucky's shirt, wincing at the bruises he sees beneath. "You were thinking about it?"
"Of course I've been thinking about it," Bucky huffs, hissing as Steve peels the blood-soaked material away from his wounds. "I've been giving you the runaround all year. Would you have ever given up?"
"I was thinking about that earlier," Steve admits. "We've been talking about how we haven't seen anything but the labs you've taken out, and maybe it was time for us to take a step back. Nat was thinking maybe you'd come to us when you were ready, if you'd managed to stay ahead of us for the last year."
"Natalia's smart," Bucky sighs. "Sounds like Hydra has good timing, at least."
Steve bites his lip. "Maybe we should get you cleaned up first," he says quietly. "There's... a lot of blood."
Bucky cracks a smile, though it's weak. "You gonna give me a sponge bath?"
"Don't have a bath, but I do have a shower," Steve says. "It's not very big but the water pressure is good."
Bucky huffs. "All right, but if I pass out, that's your problem."
"I'll keep you safe," Steve chuckles, getting to his feet so he can help Bucky up. He keeps him steady as he leads Bucky to the bathroom. Steve's careful as he helps Bucky out of the rest of his clothes, getting the shower started. "Jesus, they even got you in the leg?" he asks, spotting the rips in Bucky's pants and the blood on the outside of his calf.
"Huh," Bucky says, looking down at the wound in question. "Yeah, I think that one was a knife."
"Jesus, Buck," Steve hisses. He takes a moment to look Bucky over, but the bullet wound on his shoulder is the worst of it, the rest grazes or through-and-through. "Okay, quick shower it is. I've got a washcloth here."
Bucky steps unsteadily towards the shower, glancing back at Steve over his shoulder. "You're gonna get wet."
"I've got extra clothes," Steve says easily, already getting the washcloth wet and lathering it with a little bit of the cheap hotel body wash. "Sorry, this is gonna sting."
"It already stings," Bucky grouses - but he doesn't react at all when Steve presses the washcloth to one of the gunshot wounds.
Steve doesn't know if that's the blood loss or something worse - and now isn't the time to worry about it. He focuses on cleaning the blood and grime from Bucky's skin as quickly as he can while still keeping his touch gentle. It's the first time he's touched Bucky almost like he used to, and Steve wishes desperately that it was under better circumstances. Once Bucky is clean, Steve switches off the shower and grabs a towel, carefully patting Bucky dry. "I've got extra clothes you can wear," he says, helping Bucky out of the bathroom. "Let's start with boxers."
"Thanks," Bucky hums, accepting the underwear Steve offers him. His shoulder is still oozing blood, but most of the other wounds seem to have stopped bleeding, at least for now. "They're gonna charge you for ruining their towels."
"We'll just steal them and they can charge us for that," Steve says. "Can always use more rags. Let's take a look at your shoulder."
Bucky huffs and trudges over to the chair. He straddles it this time so that Steve has access to his back, but he's tense, a tension in him that wasn't there before. He turns his head slightly but doesn't try to look at Steve. "Thanks for doing this," he says quietly.
"Of course," Steve murmurs, settling into the chair behind Bucky and a little to the side so that Bucky can still see him. He spreads out the tools he'll need, reaches out and puts a careful hand on Bucky's arm. "I'll work as fast as I can; tell me if you need a minute."
"I'll be fine," Bucky says. "Just do what you gotta do."
That's not exactly promising, but Steve doesn't say anything, just sets to work. He extracts the bullet from Bucky's shoulder first; luckily, it wasn't deep, just in a tricky position. He debates stitching the wound shut but decides against it; Bucky's serum isn't as effective as Steve's, but it's still pretty damned quick when it comes to healing. He settles for butterfly bandages, cleans and bandages the other wounds as well. Bucky doesn't make a sound, and Steve isn't sure if it's because he's still a little out of it from blood loss or from something else, something that will piss Steve off if he thinks about it too much.
Once he's done, Steve puts everything away quickly before sliding his hand down Bucky's arm to take his hand. "Let's get to bed," he says softly. "Unless you want something to eat?"
Bucky shakes his head. "Sleep sounds good," he says. "But I can go if you're not ready for me to be here, or I can take the floor."
"I was ready for you to be with me when I woke up after you fished me out of the Potomac," Steve tells him, smiling. "And I'm not letting you take the floor when you're injured. We can share, sweetheart."
Bucky laughs softly, his eyes slipping closed in something that looks like relief. "I was really hoping you'd say that."
"Good," Steve hums, tugging lightly at Bucky's hand. "Come on, then."
Bucky stands up, and uses his grip on Steve's hand to pull him a little closer. "Hang on," he murmurs. "There's something I want to do first."
"Oh yeah? What is it?" Steve asks, even though he's got a pretty good idea, based on where Bucky's gaze is focused right now.
Bucky rolls his eyes, even as he reaches up to slide a hand around the back of Steve's neck. "Don't play dumb, Steve, it doesn’t suit you," he says, and tugs him down into a kiss.
Steve smiles into the kiss, lifts his free hand to curl around Bucky's neck, pulling him just a little closer. Bucky's lips are chapped, and Steve can tell just how tired Bucky is by how slowly he's moving beneath Steve's mouth, but this is still the best moment in Steve's life since he woke up in a new century. When the kiss finally breaks, Steve doesn't go far, bumps his nose against Bucky's just to make him smile. "I missed you," he says softly.
"I missed you too, sweetheart," Bucky murmurs. "Even when I didn't know it."
Steve can't help but steal another kiss at that. "I'm glad you remembered," he sighs. "I'm glad you're here."
Bucky's hand is soft on Steve's cheek now, his thumb brushing the tender skin beneath his eye. "I'm sorry it took me so long."
"You're here now," Steve says, squeezes Bucky's hand. "Let's go to sleep."
After more than seventy years apart, it probably shouldn't be so easy to get into bed together, much less fall asleep. Yet, thats exactly what happens; Steve and Bucky don't need to talk to settle onto their usual sides, to curl into each other before dropping off. For the first time in years, Steve's sleep is dreamless, and when he wakes, he gets a few precious seconds to bask in this new reality -
And then they're interrupted.
"There better be a damned good explanation for this."
Bucky groans, rolling onto his back and rubbing at his face. "Natalia," he huffs - and then: "Goddamn it, Steve."
"What?" Steve grumbles, giving Bucky a confused frown - but then it hits him. "Shit. Knew I was forgetting something last night."
"'Something,'" Natasha scoffs, though her posture does relax just a fraction. "Some warning would have been nice before I broke in to wake you up for breakfast and found the world's deadliest assassin in your bed."
"The world's deadliest assassin who was the last to wake up," Bucky complains. He kicks Steve beneath the sheets. "That's your fault."
"How?" Steve demands, indignant and immediately distracted from Natasha, still standing at the foot of the bed. "I'm the one who stitched you up, asshole, we didn't do anything besides sleep."
Bucky gives him a look, fond and bitchy and unbelievably familiar. "First time I've felt safe in seventy years," he says. "Apparently that means I sleep like the dead."
Steve's mouth twists, but he's distracted by Natasha moving, holstering her gun and rolling her eyes. "I don't know why I expected any different," she sighs. "Get dressed, then we need to figure out what happens now."
"Yeah, yeah," Bucky says, without looking away from Steve. "Give us some privacy, would you?"
"You get fifteen minutes," Natasha says, but the look she gives Steve belies the stern tone she uses before turning on her heel. "No sex."
"Nat, Jesus - "
"Trust me, Natalia, I'm gonna need a lot longer than fifteen minutes to get us reacquainted," Bucky says breezily. "We'll be out in ten."
Steve smacks Bucky in the shoulder with the back of his hand, face hot, but Natasha just snickers and heads for the door. "I hate you," Steve says, rolling onto his back and covering his face with his hands. "I take back what I said about missing you last night."
Bucky just grins, unrepentant, and leans into Steve's space. "Oh, yeah? I guess I'll just see myself out, then."
"Absolutely not." Steves hand moves quickly, latches onto Bucky's upper arm. He pauses when he realizes he's grabbed Bucky's left arm, looking up at Bucky's face to gauge his reaction.
Bucky tenses beside him, takes in a sharp breath - but he doesn't pull away. "I'm not going anywhere," he says softly. "Even if Natalia is calling your other Avengers buddies in right now."
"She wouldn't do that without telling me," Steve says just as quietly. "Not when you're not actively threatening us."
"Keep her close," Bucky advises him. "We need someone willing to put me down if things go sideways, and that won't be you, Rogers."
Steve's brow furrows. "What do you mean, if something goes wrong?"
Bucky shrugs, making the sheets rustle. "I told you I wasn't ready to come in yet. I wanted to see if I could break my conditioning first."
Steve runs his hand up Bucky's arm, skimming the shoulder so he's cupping the side of Bucky's neck, fingers brushing the short hairs at the nape of his neck. "You mean whatever Hydra did to make you listen to them?"
"The Russians, actually," Bucky says mildly. "Hydra just fried my brain until I couldn't remember you anymore, and then didn't keep me out of cryofreeze long enough for me to start remembering again." He blows out a breath, like he hasn't just decimated Steve's heart. "The Russians figured out a way to implant trigger words in my mind. Say the words, and you wipe the slate clean."
"Bucky," Steve breathes, stricken. His fingers twitch against Bucky's skin, and he pulls Bucky closer, rests his forehead against Bucky's. "Jesus. I can't even imagine... Do you know what the words are?"
The corners of Bucky's mouth turn down. "No. There's a book, only one as far as I know. I was in the process of tracking down the guy who has it when I caught a bunch of bullets last night."
Steve grimaces. "Tell Nat," he says. "She can help you track it down, and we can help you figure out how to break the conditioning."
"That's a lot to ask," Bucky says. "It's dangerous."
"More dangerous than trying to take down SHIELD in one day along with three helicarriers?" Steve asks, raising a brow. "Or fighting a literal alien army?"
"I read about that," Bucky says, raising a brow of his own. "Exactly how long after you came out of the ice did you decide to throw yourself into another suicide mission?"
Steve winces. "Two weeks? What was I supposed to do, Buck?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe not be an idiot?" Bucky rolls his eyes. "But that's not an argument we need to have today. If you're serious about us sticking together, there's something else you need to know."
"What?"
"I killed Howard Stark."
Steve sucks in a sharp breath, eyes going wide. "You - Shit. He had something Hydra or - or the Russians wanted, didn't he?" It's the only thing that makes sense, given what Steve knows of Howard's activities after he went into the ice.
Bucky nods. "A replica of the super soldier serum. I killed him and his wife, and I took it, and the Russians used it to create more Winter Soldiers."
Steve's brow furrows. "We haven't heard of them," he says slowly.
"They're on ice in Siberia," Bucky says. "The serum worked a little too well. They're ruthless, and they're effective, but they're hard to control."
Steve passes a hand over his face. "I think we need to take the long way back to New York."
"It was on my list," Bucky offers.
"Then we'll take care of it," Steve assures him. "See if we can find anything else about the conditioning while we're there. And I'll ask Nat to tell Tony we got confirmation about what happened to his parents."
Bucky sighs. "He's gonna come after me."
"I don't think he will," Steve disagrees, running his fingers through Bucky's hair. "He’ll have some time to process since we’re not going directly to the Tower. But if he does come after you, we'll handle it together."
"I'm not asking you to go to war for me, sweetheart," Bucky huffs, even as his eyes slip closed, relaxing at Steve's touch like he always has.
"I would," Steve says softly. "Till the end of the line, remember?"
Bucky smiles, catches Steve's hand so he can press a kiss to his palm. "I remember."
”So we’ll go to Siberia first,” Steve murmurs. “Do whatever we need to to make sure you’ll never be under anyone else’s control again. Then… We can go wherever we like.”
"That sounds good," Bucky admits, something wistful in his smile. "Thank you, for still being here."
"Wouldn't want to be anywhere else," Steve murmurs, meeting Bucky's smile with his own.
"You're still a sap," Bucky chuckles, "and Natalia is going to kill us if we don't get out there soon. But I think you deserve a kiss for that."
"I'm not gonna say 'no,'" Steve laughs, already tugging Bucky in close.
Natasha starts pounding on the door the moment their lips touch. They ignore her.