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“What do you mean you don’t have a favorite song?” Sam hissed in a tone that would probably be more appropriate when directed at someone who had just insulted his grandma. While Bucky had most certainly not besmirched Grandma Wilson, he had committed the equally unforgivable crime of not giving a shit about music.
“Believe it or not, I haven’t had a lot of time for catching up with popular music in between being on the run and overcoming brainwashing,” Bucky said wryly.
“Well, yeah,” Sam allowed, “but still! No songs from before? Golden oldies of the 40s?”
Bucky remembers going to bars with Steve before the war, teaching him to dance under the guise of getting him to improve his skills for the broads. Of course, both of them had known that Bucky wanted an excuse to hold Steve in his arms and pretend it was just the two of them. Sometimes, it had seemed like pretending was all they’d had.
“My memories of important events are jumbled enough, Sam. There’s not a lot of room for remembering tunes up here,” Bucky replied, tapping his head.
“Oh, that is just sad, man! You’d think Steve would be trying a little harder to get you caught up on pop culture. I mean what have you two been doing for the past three weeks?”
Bucky simply raised his eyebrow and smirked at Sam, who immediately looked incredibly sorry he asked.
“Nope. Nooooo thank you. NOPE!” Sam said, getting to his feet so hastily he almost fell backward into a bush. “I do not want to hear about that.”
“Are you sure?” Bucky called after him, “there’s so much to tell!”
Sam shivered in disgust and walked away faster. “Listen to some music, Bucky! Maybe then I can forgive you for the psychological torture you just put me through!”
“Modern music is garbage!” Bucky groaned, collapsing dramatically onto the bed next to Steve. A puff of cat hair flew into the air on impact, making Bucky sneeze. He’d spent the last hour and a half listening to the Billboard top twenty, and he was, quite frankly, sick of it.
“Does it now?” Steve asked dryly, flipping the page in his book without even looking at Bucky.
“Uh, yeah! The lyrics don’t have any meaning! And what the hell happened to orchestras and instrument arrangements? Nothing even sounds real!”
“Wow,” Steve said, raising his eyebrow without looking up from his book, “I didn’t realize you were such a music expert.”
“Why, Stevie!” Bucky gasped in mock offense. “You wound me. Did you think I was just trying to impress dames when I memorized all the songs they played at the dance hall?”
“I definitely thought you were trying to impress someone, but I never once thought it was any girl,” Steve said, finally looking up at Bucky with a nasty glint in his eyes.
“Oh, can it,” Bucky grumbled, turning away from Steve with a huff.
“Bucky.” Bucky ignored him. “Buck. Buckaroo,” Steve said in an overly sweet voice.
“What do you want?” Bucky rolled back to face Steve, pouting all the while.
“If you really want good music that much, you can always listen to music from our time. It’s all online,” Steve said, having resumed reading without looking at Bucky. Punk.
“I already know that music! Besides, Sam will just make fun of me for listening to the same stuff.”
“Okay...” Steve thought for a minute, scrunching his face adorably. “Oh!” he exclaimed, his face brightening, “what about music from the 60s? You obviously haven’t heard it, but it still meets your standards.”
“And how would you know about my sophisticated music taste? When have you even listened to 60s music?” Bucky was uncomfortable enough in this decade full of technology and convenience. Why would he like something made before all the gadgets that wouldn’t even connect him to his past?
“Sam and Nat made me do a ‘Music Through the Decades’ thing-”
“What, like an assignment?”
“They take music very seriously!” Bucky supposed that was true. “Anyway,” Steve continued, “the 60s were cool. It was mostly just two major bands at the time, though. The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. I think you would like The Beatles.”
“Beetles? Like the bug? What kind of name is that for a band?” Bucky asked skeptically.
“No, B-E-A-T-L-E-S. Beat, like rhythm,” Steve explained, setting his book down and shifting to lay closer to Bucky.
“Huh. Okay.”
“Will you give them a chance?” Steve asked, wrapping his limbs around Bucky and pressing their foreheads together. “So I don’t have to hear your complaining anymore?” Just when they were having a moment.
“Fiiiiine. But only because you asked so nicely.”
“Thanks, Buck,” Steve said with a smile, stretching up to kiss Bucky’s forehead.
“The name is still horrible though.”
“Why. The fuck. Did you never tell me about the Beatles, Sam?” Bucky said in a dangerously low voice the second Sam picked up the phone. Beside him, Steve shifted in his sleep. Oops.
“Woah, um, sorry? Good morning?” Sam said blearily.
“Why. Didn’t. You. Tell. Me,” Bucky repeated, gritting his teeth and using his “Alpine, put that down RIGHT now” voice.
“I don’t know! You don’t usually have to tell people about the Beatles, they just know! Why, do you like them?
“Do I—Yes, Sam, I like the Beatles,” Bucky scoffed. “Jesus Christ, have you ever heard “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away?” Or “Wait?” Do I like the—”
“Okay, okay, sorry! Hold up—when did you find the time to listen to deep cuts I’ve never even heard of? It's literally 5 am, and you didn’t know any music when I last talked to you. And that was yesterday.”
Oops. There was no way Bucky was going to tell Sam he had stayed up all night. He didn’t think he would survive getting in trouble for his bad sleeping habits again. “Uh... I... Bye!” Bucky said quickly, ending the call. Some international mysterious assassin he was.
“Who was that?” Steve asked sleepily. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, baby. Go back to bed,” Bucky said quietly, leaning down to kiss Steve’s cheek. Sure, he hadn’t slept, but he’d been in bed. That had to count for something, right? Sighing, Bucky put his headphones in and turned Revolver back on.
“Please don’t spoil my day, I’m miles away, and after all, I’m only sleeping.”
“Steve, have you seen the—” Bucky broke off as he entered the living room to see Steve laying on the couch, eyes closed and smiling.
“Steve?” Bucky asked louder. No response. “Steeeeve,” Bucky whined, flicking him on the forehead.
“Whazza?” Steve jumped up, earbuds hitting the floor with a clatter and skipping across the floor to land under the couch.
“Relax, it’s just me,” Bucky grinned, flicking Steve on the forehead again. “What were you listening to?”
“Well, because you can’t stop gushing about the Beatles,” Steve started with a grin. Bucky moved to hit him again, but Steve dodged away. Eh, Bucky hadn’t been trying that hard. “I figured I’d give them a more in-depth listen. Music Through the Decades didn’t cover much.”
“What song were you just listening to?”
“Baby It’s You.”
“Oh, that’s a good one. Why were you so happy about that? I saw your face, Stevie.” Not that Bucky couldn’t understand grinning like a loon while listening to the Beatles.
Steve blushed and looked at the floor. “I was just thinking about... us, I guess.”
Bucky made a choked gargling sound that was closer to Alpine coughing up a hairball than human speech. What? Nobody ever said he was good at talking about his feelings.
“It’s nothing,” Steve said quickly. “Forget about it.”
“Steve —” Bucky started, but Steve had already darted out of the room. Shit.
“Bucky?” Steve called from the entryway, “I’m home!” Welp, it was now or never. Bucky hit play.
“It’s not the way you smile that touched my heart. It’s not the way you kiss that tears me apart.”
Bucky looked up to see Steve standing in the doorway, mouth open and eyebrows up.
“Woah-oh, many, many, many nights go by.”
”Um. Hi,” Bucky said nervously. “Do you want to dance?” Pull yourself together, Barnes!
Steve’s face broke into a smile as he walked over to Bucky and held out his arms. Neither of them had slow danced in about 70 years, so they started simple. Steve put his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, and Bucky grabbed Steve’s waist.
“Can’t help myself cause, baby, it’s you.”
Steve and Bucky held each other, smiling.
“I didn’t know how to say it yesterday, but I think about us when I hear this song too,” Bucky whispered.
“Oh yeah?” Steve said in the same hushed tone
“Stevie, I think about you when I hear every song. Every damn one. They’re all about you.”
“What a coincidence,” Steve said with a smile, tilting Bucky’s face up a little to look him in the eyes. “I thought they were all about you.”
Yeah, they were gonna be all right.
It doesn’t matter what they say, I know I’m gonna love you any old way. What can I do when it’s true? Don’t want nobody, nobody, cause baby, it’s you.