Archive of Our Own ^beta

Steven Grant Rogers inched closer to the edge of the cliff, and wondered, not for the first time, what it would feel like to fall.

To be weightless, suspended in time, able to understand the moment between breaths. And then to be just as suddenly held, enveloped by the ocean, taken under, consumed and silent. He thought of unending depths, hurricanes, secret underwater coves. Glacier eyes floating in mercury.

The ocean swelled again and Steve inhaled deeply, opening his eyes as salt and turmoil filled his lungs. The rain hadn’t started yet, but he could tell it wasn’t far off; he’d need to be heading back to the palace soon.

He straightened up from his spot on the cliffside, giving one last glance to the raging water below, the wind catching debris and unrecognizable jetsam, sending it spinning beneath the waves. Pieces of wood, decaying seaweed, along with - wait, was that a head?

A brown head of hair, bobbing in time with the current, not terribly far out from shore, but far enough to be considered foolish in a storm like this. This cove was his - private - and an inexperienced swimmer could quickly become overwhelmed in these tides.

Steve took off running down the trail he had worn in over the course of the years, dodging rocks and holes without a second glance. He had walked this path thousands of times, and he knew it blind. The steep decline of the hillside helped further his progress, and before Steve could register what he was doing, he was kicking off his shoes and diving into the water.

The current pulled and ripped at his body as he swam, but Steve was a strong swimmer; Pierce had made sure of that after the accident. He kept going, arms pumping as he continued, breaststrokes bringing him towards the bobbing figure steadily drifting further and further out.

“Hey!” He yelled over the sound of the storm, the wind and water mixing in an overwhelming cacophony of noise. Steve hadn’t expected a reaction - he assumed whomever was swimming in this weather had to have a head injury or something, but to his surprise the head spun around to reveal the startled face of - wow, probably the most beautiful man Steve had ever laid eyes on. The mop of hair that he had spotted from a distance was more of a dark chocolate up close, warm and inviting like the cocoa Steve’s mother had made for him as a child. Delicate yet strong cheekbones, a square jaw and a practically feline smirk were almost, but not quite, overshadowed by a pair of eyes so hypnotizing Steve forgot to breathe for a moment.

Crystal grey stared back at him, hints of icy blue streams and frosted windows pulling him in, taking him back to a gaze captured under the water, to a memory that was more of a dream now. Steve blinked and refocused. Rescues and daydreams don’t mix, he chided himself internally. He had a job to do, and that job was to knock some sense into this stupid, evidently not-unconscious swimmer.
“What the hell are you doing out here?!” Steve shouted at the man, treading water in place at this point. His tone must have snapped the man back into himself as well, as he suddenly blinked and shook his head, knocking whatever thoughts he seemed fixated on loose.

“Swimming?” The man supplied weakly, inflecting his tone up at the end. His broad shoulders shifted in a ‘whatcha gonna do?’ movement, a not-quite shrug suggesting an air of nonchalance, but a crease had formed between his brows as he studied Steve’s face.

This guy was an idiot.

“Are you an idiot?!” Steve yelled again. This rescue mission was going south. His arms were starting to burn as he fought to stay in place, the current having picked up significantly since he first dove in. “You’re going to get yourself killed out here!”

The man had the gall to look offended. “Me?!” he exclaimed, sparks of indignation and, Steve could have sworn, amusement, dancing in those rain cloud eyes. “Who asked you to come out here?” he shot back.

“I’m rescuing you!” Steve once again yelled over the storm. Maybe this guy did get hit in the head. Geez.

There was definitely amusement in those eyes now.

“That’s very thoughtful, but I’m fine,” the stranger replied, turning away and beginning to swim further out into the open water. “You’d better head back to shore,” he shouted over his shoulder towards Steve. “This storm is no joke!”

Steve grit his teeth and pushed forward in the water, reaching for the man’s arm. The stranger spun, and as his gaze once again locked onto Steve’s, Steve was transported to that fateful day when everything changed, when eyes just like these captured him for the first time. He took a breath, opening his mouth to say, what exactly, he didn’t know, just as the waves finally surrendered to the storm, pulling both men under the violent water, as it had all those years ago.

Steve’s last thought before the darkness overtook him was how those eyes gave him a sense of freedom he’d never known existed before.

This man is an idiot, Bucky thought as he pulled a hulking blond body up to shore. A stupid, muscled idiot. Who even needed all these muscles anyways? They were getting in the way of Bucky’s rescuing, making this idiotic oaf even heavier than he had any right to be. This guy was turning Bucky into an idiot too apparently, because what he was even doing with a human this close to shore was beyond him.

Bucky let the man hit the sand ungracefully at the shoreline, catching his breath and stretching his body out to soothe the stiffness caused by swimming with a dead weight. Satisfied that there was no permanent damage done to himself and no other pesky swim-ruiners in sight, Bucky turned his gaze back to the man on the ground.

His blond hair was plastered to his face and Bucky’s fingers twitched to push it out of the way. He resisted, instead focusing on pink parted lips, carved cheekbones, and a nose that was perfectly imperfect. It spoke of a few too many hits to the face, which Bucky could understand, if his impression of this man was anything to go on.

“Stubborn asshole,” Bucky muttered, and almost jumped when the body beside him groaned and replied weakly, “Jerk.”

“Punk,” Bucky threw back instantly, for lack of a better insult. Not his finest quip, he considered thoughtfully. This guy was messing with his normally brilliant repartee.

Really, he shouldn’t even be bantering at all. He should be 30 feet deep in the ocean right now, swimming for home, but this stupid adonis had to take it upon himself to launch an entirely unnecessary rescue mission, endangering his stupid perfect face and interrupting Bucky’s storm watching. He had missed the lightening show entirely thanks to this moron, and Bucky wasn’t going to stand for it.

“What the hell was that?!” Bucky exclaimed, throwing his arms wide and fixing an unimpressed look on his face. Oh, this guy was gonna get it.

Blondie finally cracked an eye open and focused on Bucky’s face.

“Oh good, it worked, you’re out of the water. I’ve succeeded,” the stranger gloated sarcastically, that sky blue eye falling closed again for a moment as he took another deep breath.

That little shit.

“You have a lot of nerve-” Bucky started.

“-And you have a tail,” Blondie cut in, both eyes now open and fixed on Bucky’s fins.

“Ah.” Bucky supplied helpfully. “Yes.”

“Great,” Blondie replied, and sat up, sticking a hand out.

“Steve Rogers.”

Sam Wilson liked to consider himself to be a good bro. Such a good bro in fact, that when Steve finally climbed up the balcony to his private quarters, soaking wet, hours after disappearing without a word, Sam did not immediately explode. No, held his tongue and asked himself the age old question: what would Mama Rogers do?

Sam had been waiting silently in Steve's room for the last hour after conducting a subtle but thorough search of the palace grounds, and was now sitting in a plush chair by the ornate fireplace, fingers steepled together in deep thought.

Steve Rogers was a force to reckoned with, but Sam had the advantage of knowing him for what was essentially a lifetime. He was definitely, undoubtedly, very much almost certainly immune to those puppy dog eyes by now.

Said puppy dog eyes rounded the high-back chair and widened significantly at the sight of Sam. Sam almost wished he had selected a spinning chair instead, so he could have rotated around to face Steve dramatically as he approached, but he had been too preoccupied by Steve’s unexplained absence to consider theatrics at that point. Next time, he promised himself. There was always a next time with Steve.

Steve, cheeks flushed red, clothing dripping unwittingly onto what Sam knew was a very expensive rug, turned a bright, slightly chastised smile on him. “Hey buddy…” Steve began, holding up his hands in a premature surrender.

“What the actual fuck Steve?!” Sam exploded. Sorry Sarah, he thought, I tried. “Where the hell have you been? It's been hours!”

Steve had the good sense to look guilty at least.

“I went for a walk,” he explained simply.

“A walk,” Sam replied flatly, unconvinced.

“Yep,” Steve said, popping the P at the end, gaze shooting up around the room and to the side.

How was this guy prince of anything? He had no poker face whatsoever.

“Right,” Sam finally supplied, getting up to throw him a towel and a change of clothes. Steve stepped behind the partition in his room and began to change as Sam continued. “A four hour walk. In this weather. Good plan Steve. Did you enjoy yourself on this walk?”

Steve emerged in dry clothes from behind the screen, dragging the towel over his sandy-coloured hair, eyes alight with something Sam hadn't seen on his face in years.

“Yes, in fact,” Steve said, cheeks turning impossibly pinker, “I did.”

Steve flopped onto his bed with a sigh, smile refusing to leave his face.

Even after a 20 minute lecture from Sam reminding him of things like honesty, responsibility, and other fun scenarios (“Who are they gonna blame when you go missing Steve? Me!”), Steve's good mood could not be broken.

He and Bucky, (“James is what my mother calls me,”) had sat together on the beach following their handshake, letting the oddness of the situation and the continuing storm wash over them, breaking their initial distaste for one another with a mutual chuckle. Emotions simmered down as they both seemed willing to ignore the elephant in the room, and they began chatting about surprisingly mundane things until Steve had realized the palace staff were probably getting worried. Steve has been reluctant to leave, but he didn't need Sam sending the whole team out looking for him again.

Steve continued to smile ruefully to himself. Although he had heard the folk tales of deadly sirens, seen the paintings, and had his own slightly foggy images stored away of long, graceful fins, a hazy kaleidoscope of fragments showing a beautiful boy with a shining black tail, Steve had never really considered merfolk to be part of reality.

When he lost his parents in the shipwreck as a child, Steve had been forced to recount his story of survival to Pierce, his new guardian and advisor, and then a team of doctors as well. They were quick to stomp on his claim that he had been pulled to shore by a boy with a tail, sharing concerned glances with one another and murmuring behind closed doors about having to send him away. Steve, who was not an idiot, regardless of what today's events indicated, quickly learned to keep his mouth shut, conceding it must have been a trick of the light, or maybe a blow to the head that had him seeing things. Pierce had accepted this as a reasonable explanation, and the subject had been dropped, but Steve, even through the grief of losing his parents, had never quite forgotten what he saw that day.

Looking into Bucky’s clear grey eyes today, Steve finally knew he was right. Even more startling though was how much Steve found the tail hadn't really affected him. Once he had gotten over his initial shock and started speaking to Bucky as a person, he found the man to be more intriguing and captivating than many of the humans he knew, without even taking their physical differences into account.

After getting an earful from Bucky about the dangers of diving - quite literally - into danger without any thought for himself, Bucky had warmed surprisingly quickly to Steve's awkward attempts at conversation. The man was charismatic, intelligent, supremely funny, and when he had thrown his head back and laughed, turning that charming smile towards Steve after Steve's particularly terrible comment about having sand in inconvenient places, Steve had been instantly hooked. He needed to hear that laugh again, tinkling like bells in the breeze, and see those eyes light up with mirth as Steve stumbled his way through passable conversation. This man was like nothing Steve had ever encountered before, and he would be damned if today's unexpected meeting was the last he ever saw of him.

After staring at the ceiling for a while, making plans for a new day, Steve rolled over and dropped off to sleep, eyelids fluttering as he fell into a common dream, being trapped under the waves, inky blackness surrounding him. This time though, as he looked up from the bottom of the ocean, he swore he could see the sun.

Natasha was going to kill him.

It was that simple really. Bucky knew it like he knew water was wet.

He hadn’t planned on lingering above the waves that evening, had only planned on a quick pop above the surface to see the storm in all it’s glory, before becoming inexplicably entwined with one Steve Rogers. Steve… Bucky didn’t know what to think about that yet. He had broken virtually every rule his people had put in place in a single night regarding humans. Don’t go to the surface. Don’t interact with anyone from land. Don’t put yourself in revealing or dangerous situations.

But all he could think about were Steve’s eyes on him, the way his gaze made Bucky’s skin shiver in anticipation of something new. The way his lips moved as he explained how the tides were controlled by the moon, hands waving about as he gestured animatedly at random intervals. The way his eyes lit up as he spoke of art and science and history, things he obviously had a deep passion for.

Bucky could have sat there listening and watching Steve for hours as the storm billowed strong but somehow insignificant around them, keeping his tailfins dipped in the water as he lay sprawled on the sand, and he practically had. Steve had suddenly jumped up, seeming to have caught himself rambling, and muttered out a hasty apology and a thank you for the life-saving efforts. Although, Steve had been quick to assure him, he could’ve handled things just as well on his own. The rain had begun pounding down then, and both men had made hasty escapes, Bucky not daring to look back as he swam away.

And now here he was, late for his evening with Natasha, who would instantly see through any lie he threw out. Bucky was skilled when it came to deception, especially where his parents were concerned, but Natasha had an almost terrifying ability to see through his artifice.

“You were at the surface.”

Scratch that, there was no ‘almost’ needed. She was terrifying.

Bucky took a delaying breath, attempting to figure out his strategy. “And?” He replied easily. Stay cool, stay cool, stay cool.

Natasha swam closer, eyes narrowing critically. “Something happened.”

It wasn’t a question.

Recognizing that he would never best her, Bucky succumbed to his inevitable defeat and started to talk.

Steve had a plan. A good plan too, sneaky and stuff. There was a checklist involved. A mental checklist, so as not to leave a paper trail. Good thinking, Steve.

The trouble with being a prince, he thought, was that people always wanted to know where you were. Double that when you were the only one in line for the throne.

Steve was still a prince, not a king as his father had been, because Steve had yet to marry. A husband or wife, a solid counterbalance, was all he needed to fulfill his destiny, but Steve had not yet given into this fate. For now, as things had been since his parents passed, Steve’s kingdom was being led in a joint effort by himself and a council of advisors, headed by his guardian, Alexander Pierce. Steve’s control over the kingdom was split, the panel having their own sway with certain decisions, but Steve was satisfied with the current state of affairs. After all, a king under constant watch would never have the ability to be as sneaky as Steve was being now.

Steve crept into the empty kitchen, filling the handbasket he had taken from the pantry with various snacks and drinks. Blueberries, bread and oil, a bottle of wine, cheese. A few drops of chocolate.

He moved along silently through a beam of moonlight to the linen closet, taking out the soft woven picnic blanket his mother had always used when Steve was a child. He tucked it into the basket beside the food, his sketchbook and charcoal, and a stack of matches in a waterproof container. This plan was shaping up perfectly.

Taking his treasures back to his dark room, Steve hooked the basket over his forearm and walked out to his balcony, swinging himself over the ledge and using the decorative stonework affixed to the palace for purchase as he made his way down to the ground.

His large bedroom and private study were the only rooms on the cliff side of the estate, the ground below them only accessible from the balcony itself, thanks in part to the design of the palace and the large boulders naturally occurring on the property. Steve had started leaving his room via the balcony as a boy, picking a path down the steep hill to the sandy private cove at the bottom. The cove where a certain dark-haired merman apparently liked to spend his evenings, stargazing in the warm water.

Steve started down the trail that led to the beach, letting the crisp moonlight and his memory guide him.

Eyes just above the surface of the water, Bucky took in the human on the beach with a detached interest. It would be too much of a coincidence for it to be Steve, only two days after their first meeting, but Bucky’s heart fluttered softly at the prospect.

The figure on the shore was moving around with a sense of purpose, bathed in shadow and a sliver of moonlight. Gathering sticks? Bucky squinted. He needed to get closer but wanted to know who it was before approaching further. Steve had briefly mentioned this was his private property the other evening, but Nat would have his head if he blindly trusted a human without a second thought.

Bucky drifted silently closer as the person on the beach made a little triangle shape from the gathered wood, then suddenly a spark was lit and the triangle flared to life. Holy shit.

The small cove was suddenly illuminated and Bucky could clearly see that it was indeed Steve puttering around on the sand, laying down a blanket and pulling a pad of paper from a little basket. He sat down and wiggled around a bit, making a comfortable groove in the sand likely, before biting his lower lip in concentration and moving his hand over the paper intently.

Bucky inched forward in the water and raised his head, curious to see just how close he could get before Steve noticed him. Pretty far, he bet.

Moving silently, Bucky glided further into the shallows, watching as Steve focused on his work. He suddenly needed to be near, needed to see Steve’s orange-lit skin up close, to smooth the lines of concentration away from Steve’s brow with his thumb.

He didn’t do any of that. Instead, he stopped just shy of the shoreline and used his impressive tail to flick a spray of water in Steve’s direction, catching the man completely off-guard. Nice.

Steve sputtered instantly and dropped his paper, mouth opening and closing uselessly, eyes wide as he glanced up, wiping water from his face.

Bucky’s heart stopped once Steve’s gaze finally caught his, those summer-day eyes growing soft and fond, crinkling at the edges as they took Bucky in. This fucking guy.

“Buck,” Steve said, his tone warmly chiding, smile growing wider as he lifted his shirt to wipe once more at his wet face, and oh no, that was it. Bucky was done for.

“Steve,” Bucky responded in kind around the lump in his throat. Pull yourself together Barnes, he scolded himself internally.

“...not exactly how I wanted to start the evening, but I guess it’ll do.” Steve was chuckling and talking again, and Bucky needed to pay attention.

“What are you working on?” Bucky asked, pulling himself up on the sandy beach, towards the paper Steve had dropped. “Also, how did you make this?” He gestured to the flames.

Steve had considerately built the hot little triangle - fire, he reminded himself absently - closer to the water than one normally would, out of the way of the waves but close enough that Bucky could rest his upper body on the blanket near the warmth, with his lower half still able to dip into the ocean as necessary. The blanket felt good on his bare skin, comfortable and slightly scratchy with age. He had never felt anything like it before.

“Oh, uh,” Steve blinked down at the sketchbook and then at the fire, “I’ve just been doodling, nothing really.” He flipped the book closed and proceeded to tell Bucky how to build a fire, explaining airflow and fuel and how to strike a match.

Steve sat back on his heels then and moved the little basket closer, rooting around inside before pulling out a few packages.

“Are you hungry?” Steve asked suddenly.

Bucky’s stomach practically gurgled in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughed softly, opening the containers and spreading them out on the blanket between them.

“I don’t know what half this stuff is Steve,” Bucky admitted shyly. It looked damn good though, and it had been a while since he’d had a proper meal.

Steve pointed out the items he had brought along, having Bucky dip the bread in a small patch of oil, giving him tastes of the wine and cheese. Bucky’s eyes had practically rolled back in his head when he had tried the blueberries and chocolate. There was nothing like that under water.

“Jesus Buck, when was the last time you ate?” Steve poked him in the ribs as Bucky wolfed down the rest of the bread in a few bites, and Bucky had to bite down on a whimper. Stay calm body, he thought urgently. Breathe.

“Umm, two days ago,” Bucky answered truthfully, more concerned now with the poking and the meal in front of him than his actual answer to the question.

It was the wrong answer apparently, as Steve’s mouth popped open before snapping shut, jaw clenching tight.

“What?” Steve grit out. “Are you serious?”

Bucky tried to backtrack a little, sensing things were about to go downhill.

“Well yes, but I mean, I’ve had a bite here and there, it’s not a big deal. We’re used to it.” He shrugged non-committedly, wanting to drop the issue.

Steve’s expression darkened, and Bucky realized he may be digging a deeper hole for himself.

“What do you mean you’re used to it?” Steve was not letting this go easily.

“I mean,” Bucky sighed, “that fish have been scarce for the past few months. There’s been a lot of new ships floating around in our normal hunting areas, so we haven’t been able to catch as much as we used to. Between the risk of being spotted and the increase in nets, there’s not as much to go around. We make do.” Bucky shrugged again and glanced back up at Steve, hoping that answer satisfied him.

Steve’s face remained slightly stricken as he looked at Bucky before turning to pull his sketchpad back out. Within moments he had sketched a rough map of the main coast and surrounding water.

“Can you tell me where your people normally live and hunt?”

Bucky circled the appropriate areas and Steve began to relax minutely.

“Thanks.” Steve finally had colour back in his face. “Want the last blueberry?”

Bucky couldn’t say no to that.

“Pierce!”

Steve pushed through the office doors, not waiting for a response. He was on a rampage and heads were going to roll today.

“What exactly is the meaning of this?” Steve slapped a folder down on Pierce’s desk, then pushed his arms out, palms down as he leaned over and against the dark stained wood. “Who authorized these new fishing agreements without my signature?”

Alexander finally lifted his head from the paperwork he was currently reviewing, a disapproving frown on his face.

“Well good morning to you too Steven,” he replied sarcastically. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“The fishing agreements,” Steve repeated, the heat in his voice now very evident.

“The borders and terms have been changed from what we agreed on. These areas,” Steve pulled out a map from the pile and pointed, “here, here, and here, are supposed to be protected waters. No vessels or fishing allowed.”

Pierce glanced down at the map before looking back to Steve with an eyebrow raised.

“But Steven,” he said slowly, “we agreed that the council was assigned to help improve fishing and agricultural conditions.”

“Yes,” Steve bit out. “Improve, not destroy for the sake of profitability. How could you have done this without my consent?”

“It’s a minor detail, Steven,” Pierce replied, sweeping his hand through the air as if the matter was a piece of lint to be brushed off. “The numbers we’re compiling for this year are record breaking. We’re going to have our most profitable year yet!”

“This is a kingdom, not a business.” Steve was seeing red now. “This is about people’s lives, our environment, not profit margins. You will not treat it as such.”

“Last time I checked, Steve,” Pierce was standing now too, “This kingdom was my business. Joseph seemed to think so too. Or would your father have made a mistake in that regard?”

Steve’s flattened palms became tight fists, knuckles turning a stark white against the mahogany of the desk.

“Change. It. Back.” Steve could barely force the words out from between clenched teeth before storming out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

He needed to talk to Sam.

Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, trying unsuccessfully to soothe his tension headache.

Steve had come storming into his room two weeks ago like a man ready to set the world on fire, and Sam was still reeling from it.

He glanced down at the fishing routes and sighed. Pierce had done it again.

The documents were a mess of sloppy signatures and amendments, changes made but unexplained, finances unaccounted for. Sam leafed through the last 6 months worth of paperwork. Useless. It would take a year for a lawyer to sort this nonsense out, which Sam suspected was exactly what Pierce had intended.

Steve’s renewed interest in the running of the kingdom hadn’t been the only surprise Sam had encountered in these past few weeks.

It wasn’t as if Steve had ever been outwardly depressed, but the sudden return of that glint in his eye, that spark of life, had Sam wondering what really happened on Steve’s so-called walk that night he came in from the rain.

Sam could find out if he wanted to. He knew of Steve’s secret path, the trips down to the water almost every other night. He could easily crack this case in an instant.

But he was Steve’s friend first and attendant second. Time and circumstance had given him the ability to see Steve Rogers at his best and worst, and Sam knew he was going to have to trust him with this one. He would step in if things seemed to be getting out of hand, but for now, seeing Steve be whole again, happy and content, was worth Sam being in the dark.

He looked back down at the paperwork in his hands and knew he had lied to himself that night. He couldn’t resist those puppy dog eyes.

Bucky spread the blanket out and poked the flames with a stick before rearranging his gift’s position by the firelight. He had found the compass while out scouting an old shipwreck and, while it no longer worked, the engravings on the casing had caught his eye. Delicate constellations adorned the golden finish, tiny galaxies almost too small for the eye to see. It was a beautiful piece, and Steve deserved something beautiful. Bucky hoped he would like it.

He straightened up slightly as he heard Steve coming down the path. Steve had started leaving their nonperishable supplies in a waterproof bin, tucked hidden into a rocky little depression in the cliff wall, so Bucky had shown up early tonight to get things set up for Steve this time. He had finally perfected his stick triangles, (“It’s a teepee Buck,” Steve would remind him) and was delighted every time they went up in flames successfully, sending sparks shooting into the night like fireflies.

They had been meeting almost every other night for the past month, lounging on the beach together by the fire, Bucky watching the stars while Steve doodled in his sketchbook, chatting and munching on whatever food Steve decided to bring along. Bucky was contently full tonight; his family’s regular hunting spots had opened back up recently and Bucky was beyond relieved that things had gone back to normal. Maybe it was just a seasonal thing that had caused all the new fisherman to move in temporarily. Whatever the case, his community was eating regularly again, and Bucky was thankful for it. He would still take the blueberries and chocolates if they were offered though.

Steve approached Bucky’s spot on the beach with that trademark eye crinkle that made Bucky’s stomach all wiggily. He hadn’t allowed himself to contemplate what his feelings for Steve actually were yet, what they could mean. Bucky liked keeping things simple. This...whatever he had with Steve, this unconventional friendship, was enough for him. So what if his heart pounded whenever Steve leaned into him to add more wood to the fire, or his throat tightened when Steve licked a stray drip of chocolate off his finger. He certainly didn’t shiver now, in the warm summer air, as Steve unleashed a blinding smile on him. Not at all.

Steve flopped down heavily onto the blanket, falling onto his back and staring up at the clear night.

“You built a fire.” Bucky could hear the pride in Steve’s voice as he smiled up at the sky, then rubbed his eyes and sat up. Bucky had noticed the depressions under Steve’s eyes had been growing darker lately, an underlying stress making itself known to Bucky, even though Steve had remained tight-lipped about the cause.

Bucky hadn’t known him for an overly long time, but could tell Steve was the type of man to shoulder the weight of the world and then some.

“Got you a present too.” Bucky tried to keep his voice even, like it was no big deal. He couldn’t help but hold his breath though as he picked up the compass and tossed it to Steve.

Steve caught it easily in capable hands, turning it over and inspecting it. His eyes suddenly filled with tears, his expression unreadable as he looked up at Bucky.

“Where did you find this?” His voice was choked and soft and Bucky wondered what he had done wrong. His heart twisted.

“It was on the ocean floor.” Bucky responded, tone equally soft, trying not the let the hurt creep in. He had fucked up so badly and he didn’t even know why. “I thought you would like it.”

Steve exhaled a watery breath and looked up at Bucky again, seeming to realize what his reaction was doing to the other man.

“Oh no Buck,” he quickly reassured before clearing his throat. “I love it, I do. I just never thought I’d see it again. It belonged to my father.”

Bucky inhaled sharply. He knew Steve’s parents had died in a shipwreck, but he never thought...

“See this sequence here?” Steve pointed at a cluster of stars on the back of the compass, his expression a complicated mixture of heartbreak and fondness. “This was mom and dad,” he moved his finger along the constellations, “and me,” as he landed on the Cancer star sign. “Dad always said that the North star wasn’t the only thing guiding him home.”

Liquid blue eyes met grey ones once again, and Bucky could no longer ignore the pounding of his heart, the undeniable tug in his chest telling him that Steve was here, with him, for a reason.

They both closed the distance silently, leaning into one another as naturally as breathing. Steve’s lips were just as plush as they looked, soft and undemanding as they tasted Bucky for the first time, and as Steve’s artistic hands came up to gently cradle his jaw, Bucky couldn’t help but moan softly into the kiss.

The noise seemed to spur Steve on and he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth and exploring deeper, tongues mingling, sparks shooting like fireworks down Bucky’s spine.

All too soon Steve pulled back, resting his forehead against Bucky’s as he took a deep breath. His lips were slightly swollen, his cheeks flushed a beautiful pink, and if Bucky was dreaming, he never wanted to wake up. He would spend an eternity on this beach if he were allowed, doing everything in his power to keep this blissed-out expression on Steve’s face permanently.

Those sky-blue eyes fluttered open again and Bucky knew this was endgame for him. He would do anything for this man.

When Bucky swam home later that night, it wasn’t just the buoyancy of the saltwater that made him feel like he was floating.

Steve tried not to rush as he headed down the path towards the water. It had been 2 days since he and Bucky has last seen each other, last kissed, Steve’s heart thudded helpfully, as if he had forgotten.

His fingers brushed the gold of the compass in his pocket as he continued to walk. Steve had wanted to get away before this, to see Bucky daily if he could, but they both agreed sticking to the schedule made sense. They still had lives to live, responsibilities, people who needed them, and didn’t want to arouse suspicion.

Steve’s late night visits to see Bucky combined with his growing role in the kingdom had been taking its toll lately. Steve and Sam had been working tirelessly to uncover what else Pierce had been neglecting to tell Steve. Increased taxes, higher market prices, and stricter laws for independent artisans had been put into place, and Steve had been too blind to see it.

Things were slowly becoming corrected again, but it was an uphill battle when he had the council to contend with. It seemed Pierce had many of the members in his back pocket, and Steve was still unsure of what to do about it.

He finally reached the bottom of the hill, stepping out onto the sand as he began the usual routine of laying out the blanket and setting up the fire. Steve pulled out his sketchbook and continued the shading on Bucky’s obsidian tail as he let his mind wander. He had an embarrassing amount of sketches dedicated to the merman, portraits and individual glimpses alike in this particular book. Flashes of that powerful tail, a study of hands, a bare chest and arms leading up to a strong neck and jawline. Eyes that flashed like lightning whenever Steve did something Bucky found particularly amusing.

The eyes were the hardest part. Although they were mostly grey, Steve had a hard time capturing their essence with charcoal or pencil. They were a liquid movement that refused to be confined to paper.

Steve lifted his head and glanced around. The moon had risen fully now and Steve put another log on the dwindling fire. Bucky was late, but would likely be here shortly, Steve thought.

Any minute now.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief when Steve hopped back over the balcony later that evening. He had been just about to head down the hill himself, privacy be damned. Tonight had already gone to hell enough as it was anyway.

“Steve,” Sam started, and Steve’s head jerked up, seemingly unaware of Sam’s obvious presence in the room until he has spoken.

Steve’s face was pinched and downcast, devoid of the colour and life that had been so abundantly present lately.

“You’re needed in the main chambers,” Sam finally continued, concern filling his voice. “Something’s happened.”

Bucky swam in nervous circles, feeling like he was ready to crawl out of his skin. Natasha looked on at him mildly, but Bucky knew her better than most. She was worried too.

It had been a week, a whole goddamn week, since he had last seen Steve. They had agreed to stick to their usual routine before saying goodnight on the shore that last evening together, and things had never seemed better as Bucky swam home that night. Which made it even worse when things had abruptly gone to shit only two days later.

The evening Bucky had been set to see Steve again, word had come in that there had been an altercation between a group of humans and mermen. Details were sketchy at first, competing sources of news igniting a flurry of misinformation and fear in the community, the likes of which Bucky had never seen before. Everyone had been on lockdown after that, no one allowed to leave the vicinity of their usual reef, and when the truth of the situation was finally delivered, Bucky’s stomach had dropped.

Brock Rumlow had been hunting with a small group of mermen on the borders of their usual territory when they had come across a fishing vessel throwing out nets. Bucky had only interacted with Brock a handful of times, but when he was told Brock was still upset by the over-fishing issue they had encountered weeks ago, Bucky wasn’t surprised.

Brock had never struck Bucky as someone who would easily forgive and forget, and Bucky usually did his best to avoid the man. The other hunters reported that Brock had decided to exact some payback on the humans, using his spear to slice into the nets, letting the captured fish escape.

Once the fisherman had realized what was happening, all hell had broken loose. Things had erupted into chaos as the humans assumed they were being attacked by deadly sirens, and they had started fighting back, throwing their own spears as Brock’s crew swarmed the boat in an attempt to capsize it. The mayhem had come to a head when Brock had pulled one of the men from the boat, knocking him unconscious and causing him to drown. One of the humans had then pulled a harpoon gun, effectively ending the battle. Brock had been shot and killed instantly, and the remaining mermen had retreated back to the reef.

Bucky swallowed down the bile that had risen in this throat. He admittedly wasn’t a fan of Rumlow, but he would never wish that death on anyone.

“James,” Natasha said calmly and quietly, pulling Bucky from his dark thoughts.

“I need to speak to Steve.” Bucky finally spoke.

“You know that’s not possible,” she murmured. “The humans think we’re out for blood. You’ll be killed on sight if anyone spots you.”

“I can’t…” Bucky had to collect himself and restart. “I can’t let him think this is who we are.”

Natasha looked at Bucky thoughtfully before choosing her words carefully.

“I don’t know Steve,” she began slowly, “but he doesn’t seem the type to judge a group of people based on one man’s actions. His people are dealing with a loss of their own right now, but you can’t believe this would affect his feelings towards you. From what you’ve told me of him, Steve seems smart enough to know there are assholes in every species, but they don’t speak for the group itself. Rumlow made a bad call and paid the price for it, but if Steve is anything like you say he is, he won’t hold his actions against you. Just like you don’t hold Brock’s death against him.”

“I just wish I could tell him…” Bucky didn’t finish the thought. He couldn’t think clearly right now.

Natasha was silent for a moment.

“I’ll talk to him.”

Bucky’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I’ll talk to him,” she repeated. “You can’t go because your family isn’t letting you more than 50 feet away from them.” Natasha cocked her head forward, indicating to Bucky’s family, who were indeed swimming out of earshot a short distance away. “I have no one to account to except you and Clint. I’ll do it.”

“Nat,” Bucky exclaimed, “You can’t risk yourself like that! You said it yourself, they’re not taking any chances. You’ll be killed if you’re seen!”

Natasha grinned and kissed Bucky on the cheek before swimming passed him in the direction of the shore.

“Then I guess I just won’t get caught.”

Natasha had been surveying the shore for the last twenty minutes, the only action being the man on shore’s unsettled movements.

A fire illuminated his powerful form and Natasha could see the tension coiled in the man’s muscles, an air of distress and unease coming off him like steam, as if he was uncomfortable in his own body and mind. She had seen a similar display from James earlier in the day.

She flicked her tail and moved effortlessly closer to the shore. Now or never.

“Steve Rogers.”

Steve’s head snapped up so quickly, Natasha feared he would give himself whiplash.

Steve shot up from the ground and was ankle deep in the water before she could blink. Nat kept a respectable distance between them as she studied the blond’s face.

She was immediately struck by the man’s overwhelming look of exhaustion. His handsome face had what looked like a week's worth of beard growth, his blue eyes red-rimmed and sunken. There were lines etched into his forehead and around his eyes that Natasha could tell were from multiple sleepless nights.

“Is Bucky okay?” Steve called out to her quietly, as if he was fearing her response.

“Bucky is as well as he can be, considering the circumstances. He misses you,” Natasha replied.

Steve looked about ready to collapse at the news.

“So he wasn’t the one they…” he paused to scrub his hands over his eyes. “He’s alive?”

Natasha’s eyed widened as she realized the torture this man had gone through this week. “Yes Steve,” she quickly assured him. “He wasn’t the one in the water that day.”

Steve’s body did give out at this point, the fabric of his pants darkening as he sunk to his knees in the ocean.

Large hands rubbed against red-blue eyes again as Steve let out a sigh that contained a complicated mix of relief and pain.

Setting a determined look on his face, Steve finally met Natasha’s gaze.

“I’m going to fix this,” Steve said, steel entering his voice. “I won’t let your people be attacked again. I’m so sorry for what we’ve done.”

“I’m sorry too,” Natasha said quietly, “for everything. What are you planning?”

Steve’s expression changed to something that made Natasha’s stomach roll unpleasantly.

“There’s to be a ball tomorrow night. I’ll take a partner and finally have the control over the kingdom needed to end this madness. I don’t have enough power to stop what’s happening right now. There’s no laws in place to keep humans from murdering your people, and I can't get the approval needed to create them. I need to change that.” Steve looked ready to throw up.

Natasha moved closer to Steve and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“He loves you, you know,” she said softly.

Steve inhaled deeply and looked at her through tear-stained eyes.

“I love him too. Which is why I have to do this.”

Bucky couldn’t swim fast enough.

“James!” Natasha yelled as she sped through the water behind him. “Think about what you’re doing!”

Bucky rounded on her, emotion making his voice shake. “What would you have me do, Natasha?”

Bucky knew as soon as he spoke that he was being unfair, none of this was her fault, but he needed an outlet for his anger and she was the only one currently within shouting range.

“What would you do if Clint were about to throw his life away, about to make the stupidest decision of his life for some goddamn noble cause, huh? Would you let him do it? Would you let him tie himself to someone else, only to be miserable for the rest of eternity?” Bucky pinched his eyes shut and opened them again, lowering his voice back to its usual register. “You wouldn’t. You would do what you had to, to make sure he’s happy.”

Bucky saw Natasha’s throat bob, and her silence was answer enough.

He turned again and kept swimming towards the sea witch’s den, this time with Natasha at his side.

Madame Hydra’s lair was located in an underwater cave at the edge of the reef. Bucky generally avoided this side of the coral, but he couldn’t give a straight answer as to why. The water just felt weird against his skin, cold and slippery like an oil that refused to be washed away.

He drifted into the cavern with Natasha, slowly taking in his surroundings.

The cave was darker than he expected, rocky shelves illuminated by a sickly green light that seemed to have no direct source. Bottles and potions decorated the shelves, the purposes of which Bucky couldn’t discern from the labels.

Madame Hydra sat on a stone ledge in the middle of the space, brushing her long black hair out with an ivory comb. Her deep green tail was coiled around her, reminding Bucky of an eel poising to strike.

“James,” she purred, eyeing him as he approached.

“Madame Hydra.” He tipped his head in acknowledgement. Might as well get this over with. “I need to make a deal.”

Her lips spread in what Bucky supposed could be described as a smile, but there was absolutely no joy in it. It invoked the exact opposite feeling of what he experienced when Steve pointed his upturned lips Bucky’s way.

“What sort of deal are you looking to create?” she asked easily, running the brush once again through her hair.

Bucky swallowed and met her eyes. “I need to become a human.”

“Human,” Madame Hydra repeated thoughtfully, tapping the ivory handle of the comb against dark painted lips. “That’s quite a tall order. What does a fine merman such as yourself need to become a human for?” She arched one sculpted brow to punctuate her question.

“I’ve… met someone.” Bucky felt oddly vulnerable in the moment, but wasn’t sure why or how. He just needed this deal done.

“Ahh.” The not-a-smile grew and she set the brush down next to her, her face becoming sharp and feline. “Love is the stupidest of reasons for doing what we do, but I can’t fault you for that. You’re too pretty.” She reached out a pointed fingernail and touched his chin dimple. It took everything Bucky had to suppress a shiver.

“I’ll tell you what,” she continued, finally removing that icy hand. “I’m feeling generous today. I’ll give you three days on land. If this human of yours is able to prove that they love you, ‘till death do you part, by sunset on the final day, you can keep your legs and have your happily ever after. If you fail, you belong to me. Understood?”

“Bucky,” Natasha finally spoke up from behind him, reaching for his elbow and pulling him aside. “I don’t like this. Why does she want nothing up front as payment?” She murmured in his ear. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know Nat, I’m not exactly up on the business ethics of creepy sea witches,” Bucky threw out sarcastically in an attempt to cover his own fear. He had wondered the same thing, but knew he didn’t have a choice. His mind was already made up.

“I’ll do it,” he spoke up, turning back to the witch. “Just tell me what to do.”

Madame Hydra’s dark lips parted to show her teeth as she pulled him closer and began the spell.

Steve knew he really should be getting ready for the ball that evening, but he couldn’t bring himself to move from his place in front of the canvas.

He looked down at his palate again with a sense of tired frustration. He had mixed over a dozen shades of grey, but the colour still wasn’t right. Bucky's eyes looked flat and lifeless in the painting before him.

His emotions swelled and he threw the palate against the wall, dropping down into a chair in his bedroom, head in his hands. His eyes pricked with tears. He was doing the right thing. This was for Bucky, Bucky’s friends and family. They’d be safe after this.

The hardwood floor creaked softly behind him but Steve didn’t look up. He didn’t need Sam to see him cry again.

“Steve,” Sam’s voice was low and gentle, probably in response to the crash of the art supplies hitting the floor. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t get the eyes right,” Steve said roughly into his hands, praying for his voice not to crack.

“Why not take another look at the real thing then?” A soft drawl from behind him, cleansing and airy, like a breeze over the ocean, filled his ears.

Steve spun and he was there, Bucky was there, standing slightly behind Sam in the doorway to his room, looking mildly uncomfortable but also quietly pleased. His face was sunkissed and flushed, and he ran a hand through his soft hair self-consciously as Steve took him in, gaze traveling from those impossibly clear eyes to the lips he had missed so badly, over lean muscled arms and down his torso to the legs he stood on, clad in what looked like an outfit of Sam’s.

Steve didn’t even take a moment to think, didn’t care why or how this had happened, only stood and moved, and just like that night on the beach when they had shared their first kiss, Bucky met him halfway.

Having Bucky wrapped up in his arms was like coming home again. Steve pressed his face into the man’s neck, inhaling salt and sunny warmth, sweet and rich with a hint of something so innately Bucky. He let out a watery laugh as he began pressing kisses to his jaw and face. He was semi-conscious of Sam backing out of the room and closing the door behind him, but paid it no heed as he finally brought his lips to Bucky’s, putting every emotion he had felt this past week into the kiss.

Bucky kissed back with fervour, evidently feeling the same way Steve had regarding their separation. Bucky kissed like a man born to do it, his hands trailing up and down Steve’s back and arms, smoothing over his hair and jaw, trying to take in every piece at once. Steve felt dizzy with emotion.

Steve locked his hands around Bucky’s waist, pulling him from the entryway over to the bed, although Steve had no intentions of moving things beyond kissing and gentle touching tonight. This reunion was still too raw and fresh to add another layer on top right now, and he didn’t want to push Bucky too far. He didn’t know Bucky’s level of experience, or even how that had really… worked, when he was a merman. How did fish have sex? Steve couldn’t remember learning it in school. Something about eggs? He thought there were eggs involved somewhere, but didn’t really know. There was no way Bucky laid eggs. That would be weird, right? He would still love him if he laid eggs, but-

Bucky did a new thing with his tongue in Steve’s mouth, and Steve shut down that thought process quickly. All he needed right now was to feel Bucky pressed beneath him, to feel his radiance and spirit and know that this was real, not a stress-induced fantasy his own overtaxed brain had concocted.

Bucky easily moved along with Steve, not breaking the kiss until his knees hit the back of the bed and he tipped backwards onto the mattress enticingly. Steve looked down at him, overcome with adoration and affection for this beautiful man.

“I love you,” he breathed.

Bucky looked up at him from the bed, the crisp white sheets making a study in contrast with his rich hair spilled across the surface. His smile widened and those crystal eyes danced as delicate spots of rose blushed across aristocratic cheekbones.

“I love you too Steve,” Bucky replied softly before pulling Steve down on top of him.

Steve was very late to the ball that night.

Bucky awoke slowly in a dreamy daze, surrounded by clouds of white downy softness. He turned his head and saw Steve still sleeping across from him, face mashed into the pillow, lips slightly parted, with one strong arm thrown over Bucky. His blond hair was sticking up in eighteen different directions, and Bucky didn’t have to stop himself from reaching out this time. His hand smoothed over Steve’s head in an attempt to tame the sandy rebellion, but all it did was cause Steve to nuzzle into the touch and tighten his hold around Bucky. What a dope.

Bucky snuggled in closer and thought back to the whirlwind of the previous evening.

He had been practically hauled to shore by Natasha after receiving his legs (a surprisingly slow and painful process), his human lungs almost giving up the ghost less than five minutes after receiving them. From there he had stumbled along the beach, getting used to his new appendages until a particularly rude family had the nerve to call him ‘an indecent drunk’ and had thrown a towel at him. He had wrapped the towel around his waist and made to carry on, when he was stopped by a friendly looking stranger with compassionate eyes.

Sam Wilson had brought him back up to the palace, explaining he could get a meal and some clothing here, that the kingdom was always happy to help someone in need. Bucky stopped arguing the drunk angle when he noticed Sam had taken him exactly where he needed to be. This building was at the top of the hill Steve always emerged from. Maybe he worked here.

It turned out Steve did not just work here. It turned out, in fact, that Steve owned the building, that he was a goddamn literal prince, and that Prince Steve had been particularly mopey this past week, with sketches of a dark-haired man popping up around the palace in between dramatic heartfelt sighs.

Sam Wilson, good bro that he was, had gotten Bucky fixed up and delivered directly to the door of the blond lump of perfection now snoring lightly beside him. The blond lump of perfection he was now engaged to.

Bucky smiled and scooched impossibly closer to Steve, looking down fondly at the light dusting of freckles that brushed along his nose and cheekbones.

They had finally gotten around to talking last night after their emotional reunion/intense makeout session. Bucky had described his nifty little deal to Steve, explaining that all they needed to fulfill the bargain was for them to be in love (done, done, and done), and then for Steve to declare his love for him, ‘till death do them part, in what Bucky assumed would be a wedding ceremony. The purpose of last night’s ball had been for Steve to select a partner anyways, so they had quickly attended, Steve had declared Bucky the winner or whatever, and the wedding was set for tomorrow. Bucky was getting married tomorrow. Eek!

He kissed his soon-to-be husband on the nose and waited for him to wake up so they could start the day together.

Sam watched with fond amusement as Steve rearranged the items on the dining room table for the tenth time in 15 minutes. This was only day one, but if Steve was going to be like this at every breakfast now that he and Bucky were together, Sam would have to consider eating in another room - the man’s eyes were practically heart-shaped this morning and Sam could already tell this meal was going to be chock-full of PDA. Ugh.

“Do you think he likes pancakes? Everyone likes pancakes, right?” Steve asked hurriedly as he turned the handle of the syrup dispenser eight degrees to the right.

One of the kitchen staff brought a small bowl of caviar to the table then, and judging from Steve’s expression, you’d have thought he was just given the news that the world was ending in the next five minutes.

“Oh my god.” Steve pulled his hands through his haphazard hair.

“We can’t serve this, can we? This is like… sex. Sex, Sam. For breakfast!”

“Steve,” Sam finally broke the man’s tirade. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Steve looked up at him, blue eyes wide, like the problem was obvious. “Fish eggs, Sam. Oh my god. We can’t. At the very least, they’d be like an aphrodisiac or something, right? That’s not appropriate. It’s breakfast for god’s sake! What will he think I’m trying to say? Oh my god.”

Thank the lord for small blessings, Bucky finally chose this moment to enter the dining room, dressed and bathed, his own brand of heart-eyes affixed to his face upon seeing Steve.

The caviar crisis evidently forgotten, Steve suddenly lit up, moving like a magnet to Bucky’s side. And yep, there was that morning PDA Sam had expected.

Sam picked up his plate and exited the room, moving quickly before things could escalate any further in front of him.

Those boys had no shame.

As he watched Bucky get slobbered on by an overly enthusiastic golden retriever, Steve realized he had never been happier.

They had spent the day wandering through the market hand in hand, with Steve pointing out landmarks and explaining the regular goings-on of day to day life in the kingdom. All the sensations were so new to Bucky; the flavours of food, the smell of the flowers, the sound of music in the streets. Just watching Bucky interact in this new environment, soaking up the culture and texture of the kingdom and all its offerings, had Steve pushing down a lump of emotion more than once that day. Bucky was beautiful, and everything he touched was better for it.

Steve himself was a regular figure in the market, often taking the time to wander around and sample people’s wares, admiring the dedication the vendors had to their crafts, committed to trades that kept the kingdom alive. He loved the atmosphere of the busy streets, the hustle and bustle, the unending movement that allowed him to slip into a crowd unnoticed. Down here, where he didn’t have to be anyone but himself, Steve felt like he could breathe. Many of the vendors were used to his presence by now as well, so having the prince come by was nothing too unusual. He was well liked and happy here. The prince’s fiance, however... that was a different story.

People loved Bucky. Like shower him in gifts, compose a ballad in his name, loved him. It was almost ridiculous, if not for Bucky’s blushing response to the attention, and Steve’s total acceptance of where the people were coming from. Steve loved him too.

Bucky had apparently been the main topic of conversation in the streets since making his quick debut the night of the ball, side by side with Steve. Steve understood the appeal - a handsome dark-haired stranger showing up out of the blue, engaged to a prince in one night. Steve was a romantic at heart and knew the situation was essentially a fairy tale come to life. He could hardly believe it himself, even though he was literally playing the role of the prince. He smiled to himself, still not able to fully believe the turn this week had taken. He was beyond lucky, and wasn’t going to take a moment of it for granted.

Bucky stood up from his kneeling position on the ground, the doggy slobber session having come to an end. (Even the dogs here loved Bucky, because of course). His face was split in a wide smile and his eyes sparkled with joy as he gave the dog one more pat on the head before practically waltzing back over to Steve.

Steve met him with a kiss and took his outstretched hand. The evening was coming to a close, the sun starting to set, and Steve had one more thing planned to finish out the day.

As they crested the top of the hill by the palace, Bucky realized he was being led down Steve’s secret path to the cove. His heart fluttered in anticipation, and as he looked over at Steve, who was simultaneously grinning like an idiot and keeping an eye on Bucky’s footing so he wouldn’t trip, Bucky was barely able to keep himself together. He loved this man so much.

They reached the bottom of the cliffside and Bucky had to blink a few times to keep the tears at bay. There was already a fire going (Sam Wilson: Good Bro), and their usual blanket was spread out with the basket on top, a bottle of wine sticking out of one side. It wasn’t over the top. There wasn’t a hundred candles surrounding the beach, or a string quartet ready to greet them. It was simple, and lovely, and so, so Steve, so reminiscent of the first night he had come to the cove looking for Bucky, with nothing more than a picnic basket and a hope to see him again.

Bucky turned and captured Steve’s face in his hands, bringing their mouths together in a deep kiss. When they separated, Steve’s smile was like the sunrise breaking over the waves in the morning, bright and soothing in its peaceful contentment. An everyday miracle.

Steve led him over to the blanket before thumping down on one knee and taking Bucky’s hands in his.

“Buck…” Steve began.

“Oh my god Steve, are you proposing?” Bucky wasn’t sure if he was going to laugh or cry right now. He was maybe doing a little bit of both.

“I’m trying to propose if that’s what you mean. I didn’t get to do it properly last night!” Steve tried to sound reprimanding, but his heart wasn’t in it. His face was too open to even pretend he was upset.

“Steve, you dope.” Bucky flopped down next to him, his body starting to shake with laughter. “Yes, I will marry you.”

“You didn’t even let me ask!”

Bucky rolled his eyes fondly, keeping his mouth shut this time but spreading his arms to indicate Steve had the floor.

“Thank you.” Steve paused to clear his throat, trying to school his face into something more serious, with only mildly successful results. “James Buchanan Barnes, will you marry me?”

Bucky blinked at him from his place on the blanket.

“That was it. You can answer now, you know,” Steve huffed, trying to keep his laughter reigned in as he pulled his best Steve Rogers Is Disappointed In You face.

“Then yes, brave prince, I accept your proposal,” Bucky sassed, eyes shining with sincerity.

“You’d better,” Steve muttered, proving for all the world that he was an actual five year old.

Bucky was going to have an ocular emergency if his eyes rolled any farther back in his head.

Shaking his head, he pulled Steve down for a kiss on top of him, quickly changing the mood from bubbly and light to something deep and longing.

Steve’s goofy grin melted seamlessly into a look of desire, his blue eyes overcome with black as his pupils dilated, and Bucky felt his stomach swoop with something new and exciting. Sensation sparked low in his belly, a fizzy feeling like the champagne Bucky had tried earlier in the day. It shivered along his spine and wriggled down to his toes as Steve pressed more of his weight down on top of Bucky, his lips starting to mouth at the delicate skin under his ear.

Bucky turned his head and captured Steve’s lips with his, his body arching in a slow roll beneath Steve, seemingly of its own volition. Steve moaned into Bucky’s mouth at the motion, and his tongue swept out to brush against Bucky’s, a deliciously teasing moment of contact.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Steve rasped out, his low voice setting Bucky’s skin on fire.

Bucky shivered and arched again, pressing his lips to Steve’s neck and beginning to lightly suck, signaling his wish to continue.

This time Steve’s moan was more of a growl and he sat back on his heels suddenly, pulling his shirt off over his head. Bucky quickly followed suit, and oh yes, this was so much better. Steve’s skin was like a furnace against his own, his steady heat a confident reassurance of this moment in time. I am here with him, Bucky thought. Right now, I have this.

It also meant Steve now had access to Bucky’s chest and abs, deft artists fingers moving along lightly, not pressuring, just exploring and appreciating. Loving.

Steve dipped his head down and nosed along Bucky’s chest, peppering kisses along his collarbones before taking a flushed nipple into his mouth. Bucky gasped and arched further into Steve, feeling the man’s length press into his hip as he sought the same sort of friction for himself. The combined sensations of Steve’s mouth and body felt amazing, his blood pounding hot and electric through his veins, but it wasn’t enough. Bucky wanted more. Bucky wanted Steve to give him everything he had, to take him apart and put him back together again.

He reached for the top of Steve’s pants, and Steve let out a groan before pulling back to look down at him, his expression already half-wrecked.

“Are you sure you want this?” Steve asked, voice soft and low, eyes never leaving Bucky’s.

“Please Steve, yes,” Bucky breathed out, and let his eyes fall closed for a moment as Steve kissed him gently.

Strong hands reached down and carefully removed Bucky’s remaining clothing before Steve rid himself of his own. Bucky was still adjusting to the feel of the night air drifting over his bare skin when Steve took him gently in his hand, causing every nerve ending on Bucky’s skin to fire at once. He let out a whimper that Steve instantly responded to, concerned blue eyes jumping back up to Bucky’s face, waiting for permission. Bucky met Steve’s eyes and nodded, and Steve resumed his gentle stroking, made easier with the olive oil procured from the basket.

Steve leaned over and kissed Bucky’s lips again, deep and slow, as his hand moved down from Bucky’s length to his perineum and finally his hole, other hand holding his hip gently.

Bucky inhaled sharply at the cool sensation of Steve’s finger touching his entrance, and began pressing himself down, trying to make contact. Steve’s feather-light touches were driving him insane.

His frustration must have become evident to Steve, as he soon pressed one finger forward. Bucky moaned loudly this time, relishing in the sensation of Steve pumping slowly in and out, preparing his body for him.

By the time one finger had progressed to three, Bucky was a shaking mess, writhing on the blanket below Steve.

“Please,” Bucky pleaded, looking up him.

Steve was beautifully wrecked above him, sweat beading on his forehead, the blue in his eyes reduced to a small ring of colour. His patience up to this point had been unbelievable, although Bucky could tell Steve was struggling now.

Steve pressed a final tender kiss to Bucky’s mouth before running a slick hand over himself and lining up at Bucky’s entrance.

The first thrust in had Bucky seeing stars, galaxies and nebulas coming together in his own personal big bang, body suffused with pleasure.

Steve backed out and then slowly began moving forward, body trembling slightly with the control needed to hold back, until he had sunk himself to the hilt in Bucky.

Bucky arched and gasped, body adjusting to the weight and length that was Steve Rogers, while Steve brought his forehead down to rest against his partner’s.

“I love you, Buck.” Steve looked into those crystal depths one last time, then he began to move.

They lay together on the beach afterwards, wrapped up in each other’s arms, murmuring vows of everlasting love to one another, ‘till death do them part.

They had no idea how quickly things would change tomorrow.

The wedding vessel left the dock in the early afternoon.

Steve, reckless and impulsive when it came to his own well being, was taking no chances today. Bucky had said they needed to say their vows before sunset, so he had made sure the ceremony would take place at least an hour before the sun even thought of dipping down towards the water.

Steve fiddled with the cuff of his navy dress uniform, a skittering of nerves dancing along his spine, like a spider walking across his back.

He knew it was normal to be nervous on his wedding day, but that wasn’t the problem. He had no doubts about spending his life with Bucky, so he wasn’t sure why he was feeling so uneasy today.

Steve shook himself and let it go. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of his life.

He stepped out onto the deck and bumped his shoulder playfully into Sam’s, a grin overtaking his face as he waited for the ceremony to begin.

Bucky emerged from his own cabin into the sunshine and had to pause for a breath. Steve was standing down the aisle across from him in matching navy blue dress clothes. His golden hair glinted in the sun, and Bucky could see his broad chest expand as he took Bucky in.

Bucky didn’t know what he had done to deserve someone so perfect.

They grasped hands before the officiant, Steve’s blue eyes reflecting unbound amounts of joy and love. Bucky had to blink the tears from his eyes as Steve squeezed his hand and promised him, ‘till death do us part. As long as we both shall live.

They kissed, and Bucky was officially the happiest man alive.

The sun crept closer to the waterline as Steve and Bucky stood on the ship’s deck, arm in arm. The party whirled on behind them, music and laughter floating towards them as they took this private moment to themselves at the head of the ship.

Steve turned his head and kissed Bucky’s temple, breathing in the stillness of the air.

The wind picked up as they headed back to the party, the ocean becoming choppier beneath the boat. The ship’s crew moved quickly, heading to the main masts to secure the rigging as the wind began to pound against the sails, and that unsettled feeling filled Steve's chest again.

Steve tightened his grip on Bucky’s hand. He knew. He knew it wouldn’t be enough.

“Steve?” Bucky turned rounded eyes on him as Steve’s started moving him towards the ship’s cabin. The music had stopped and the guests were milling about uneasily, some holding onto the rails of the ship as the waves became more turbulent.

“Get inside, Buck.” Steve said quietly, opening the cabin door.

Bucky ground his heels into the deck, refusing to be moved further. “What’s wrong?”

The water exploded around them then and Bucky suddenly collapsed to the ground, mouth open and grey eyes pinched shut as he gasped in pain.

The sky darkened with clouds and Steve spun to see a beautiful dark haired woman stepping off a high crested wave onto the ship’s deck. She touched down lightly as if she were descending from from a staircase and not a positively chaotic ocean.

He immediately placed his body between the witch and Bucky, drawing his dress sword from his side. It wasn’t great for combat, but it was better than nothing.

“Time’s up James,” she looked through Steve to the man on the ground. “Payment is due.”

“We completed the vows!” Steve’s icy voice boomed over the storm, but he knew it was useless. Had known it from the start.

“The deal was,” Madame Hydra spoke again, “that you provide proof of unconditional love. ‘Till death do you part. So why are you still breathing?”

“I won’t let you take him.” His tone left no room for negotiation, Steve was steel incarnate.

“Steve…” Bucky rasped from the ground, pained eyes meeting his. Steve could tell the change had begun, but he didn’t know how long he had. He could see the sweat beading on Bucky’s face and his legs twitched sporadically but nothing substantial had happened yet. Steve still had time to fix this.

Steve met Bucky’s eyes and tried to say everything he could with that one look. You’ll be okay. I’m sorry. I love you.

Steve moved first, rushing forward with his sword outstretched, aiming for a killing blow immediately.

Madame Hydra dodged back, green octopus-like tendrils suddenly replacing her legs in a sickly display of black magic. She wrapped one large suctioned tentacle around Steve’s waist and pulled him sharply over the side of the ship into the ocean, Bucky’s screams being the last thing he heard before he hit the water.

Steve opened his eyes underwater, quickly trying to get his bearings. He had managed to take a decent breath before being pulled under the surface and didn’t want to waste it.

He was still clutching his sword tightly, although his arms were pinned to his sides by a greasy cold tentacle.

The witch was trying to drown him.

He kicked his legs furiously, managing to catch the witch in the side, loosening her grip on him slightly.

Steve took advantage of the moment and twisted the sword in his grip, flipping the blade up, slightly behind his own arm and between them.

When Madame Hydra went to tighten her grip again, Steve used her momentum to put more strength behind his thrust, the sword plunging into her abdomen, inky black blood bursting from the wound into the water around them.

Her grip loosened and Steve was free, but the overwhelming darkness around him was making it hard for him to figure out which way was up. Steve had dropped his sword somewhere. Didn’t he need that? But why was he fighting in the water? His head was feeling fuzzy and his lungs were burning harshly.

Maybe he had decided to go swimming. No, not swimming. He was sailing with his parents, and the ship had been caught in the storm.

He couldn’t see his mom or dad anymore, but he could see shining grey eyes coming towards him, a pale outstretched hand and the boyish face of someone he loved.

Bucky had come for him, reaching for him with a leanly muscled arm. Steve opened his mouth to tell him it was okay, he didn’t need to look so afraid, but the words wouldn’t come and his arms didn’t want to work right, he couldn’t stretch out to reach back.

As the sun finally dipped completely down in the sky above them, Steve closed his eyes and let the darkness take over.

Bucky stood like a statue in Steve’s bedroom, staring into his own eyes depicted on the canvas in front of him.

Steve had said before that he didn’t think the colour was correct, but Bucky had to disagree. Everything about him was grey, grey, grey. Steve had gotten it right.

Sam entered the room and Bucky could have sworn he had aged ten years that evening, his dark skin pale and lined with stress.

Bucky didn’t speak but his expression asked the question for him.

“He isn’t waking up.” Sam spoke terribly softly, and Bucky wanted to smash everything in the room at the sound.

When Steve had been pulled off the ship, Bucky had been unable to help, body trapped in some hellish purgatory between human and merman. By the time Steve had delivered the killing blow to the witch, Bucky’s body had been overwhelmed with the black magic, it’s sticky tendrils changing his body chemistry in a terrifyingly painful way.

The spell had immediately ceased once the witch was killed, and Bucky had wasted no time in plunging into the water after Steve, his legs turning back into a tail as he hit the saltwater.

Bucky had gotten to him as quickly as he could, making bargains with unknown deities as he rushed Steve up to the surface into Sam’s waiting arms. They had hauled him back onto the ship and Sam had started CPR. As the ship sped back towards the palace, Bucky had hardly noticed as his tail changed back to legs upon returning to the dry surface.

Steve had been dead, his beautiful heart stopped; for how long, Bucky didn’t know.

Bucky followed Sam down to the infirmary and had to lean on the man for a moment when his knees threatened to give out as he saw Steve lying still in the bed.

He rushed forward, eyes darting over Steve’s prone form. His normally flushed skin was pale and sallow, expression neither pained or comfortable. It was maddeningly flat.

Bucky placed a hand lightly on Steve’s chest, needing to feel the movement that indicated Steve was still there, the pounding of a heart, the rise and fall of a chest that told him he wasn’t alone yet.

Soft shallow breaths puffed out between Steve’s pink parted lips, and Bucky finally let the tears fall as he clutched Steve’s hand in his. Steve had his matching wedding band on, and Bucky kissed his left hand before setting it down gently on the mattress and looking up at Sam.

“I’m so sorry.” He could hardly speak through the thickness of his throat.

Sam’s mouth twitched upwards in an attempt to brush the apology off.

“It’s not your fault you know. Steve is a smart guy. He knew what he was doing.”

“Steve is an idiot, and we both know it,” Bucky choked out.

Sam’s lips did form a small grin then, and he pulled up a chair beside Bucky to help keep vigil over the stubborn, selfless asshole they both loved.

His nose itched.

Steve tried to raise a hand to scratch at it, but his limbs felt like lead, and besides, there was a warm presence pinning his arms down to his sides. He was trapped in a Bucky hug.

He blinked his heavy eyes open and looked down at the man wrapped around him.

Bucky was sleeping on the bed next to him, more like on top of him really, his limbs wrapped around Steve like some sort of hot vine, head resting on Steve’s chest.

There was a little bit of moisture seeping out of his mouth onto Steve’s shirt. It was adorable.

Steve shifted slightly and Bucky popped awake, eyes fluttering and immediately filling with tears as he saw Steve was also conscious.

“Oh thank god.” Bucky’s voice was rough with emotion, his eyes rimmed with red.

Steve hated seeing any sort of sadness on that face, so he brought his lips to Bucky’s, kissing him softly and tasting salt as tears slid down his partner’s cheeks.

“You saved me,” Steve spoke quietly as he brushed the moisture from Bucky's face with his thumbs.

“Of course you dope, wasn’t gonna let you ruin my wedding day.” A choked teasing tone lightened the statement, but Steve could see that there had been real fear living in Bucky’s eyes. He pulled himself closer to his husband.

“I mean when I was a kid, in the shipwreck. You pulled me from the water. That was you.”

Bucky’s expression softened even more, and he gazed down at their entwined hands before speaking.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.” He was quiet, twirling the ring on Steve’s finger.

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be an idiot Buck. You know you’re unforgettable.”

[Three Weeks Later]

Bucky poked the fire with a stick and arranged the blanket just so.

He saw Steve coming down the hill and started pulling the food out of the basket, knowing Steve would be hungry after spending the day in court.

Steve had been making drastic changes to the kingdom in the time since his recovery and the crowning ceremony. King Steven had demolished the council; Alexander Pierce and the rest of the unsavoury members having been removed from power.

New laws were being set in place, protecting the residents of the kingdom from over-taxation, encouraging tradespeople to grow their businesses, art and industry thriving.

He had also established new guidelines for protecting sea life, restricting certain areas from human contact, intending to preserve the ecosystem as much as possible. If people noticed this issue was nearer and dearer to the King’s heart than most, no one had the guts to say it.

Steve had finally reached the blanket, flopping down in his usual happy-puppy way.

“How’s your family?” he asked, after giving Bucky a quick kiss on the lips.

Bucky has spent the day in the water, darting around with Nat and Clint before visiting his family, offering his apologies for the hundred thousandth time to his parents for running away from home, making an ill advised deal with a sea witch, and then eloping without inviting his mom to the wedding. Whoops.

Whatever had happened that day with Madame Hydra had changed his body permanently. The spell having been interrupted halfway through somehow allowed Bucky to switch back and forth between merman and human, his familiar fins taking shape whenever he stepped into the ocean.

At the moment he was 100% human, legs up on the blanket by the fire he had so skillfully crafted.

“Good,” he replied, “still pissed, but they're coming around.”

“I wouldn’t want to be under your mother’s wrath any more than necessary,” Steve laughed, having met Winnie Barnes two weeks ago. She reminded Steve of his own mother, gentle but encompassing the strength of a lion when it came to her kids.

“Oh no, she loves you, and she wants you to know you’re the favourite now. I am a mere ink-stain on the flawless dress shirt of our family.”

“Jesus Buck,” Steve laughed, “Dramatic much?”

Bucky shrugged happily, a mischievous grin on his face. “So how was your day?” He asked, having finally finished pulling the food out of the basket.

“Good…” Steve trailed off and his mouth opened slightly as he watched Bucky spread a cracker with caviar and pop it in his mouth.

“What?” Bucky licked the remaining salty flavour off his fingers.

Blue eyes darted between Bucky’s lips and eyes, down to his hands, and back to his lips.

Steve’s tongue quickly flicked out to wet his own mouth.

“Fish eggs, Buck.” Steve’s voice was slightly strained. Bucky wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Steve, what - “ Bucky didn’t get to finish the question as Steve moved across the space, locking their lips together in a heated kiss.

As Bucky rolled over in the sand, Steve climbing on top of him, he made a mental note to ask Steve later if caviar was some sort of aphrodisiac or something, then swept any thoughts not about Steve's lips from his mind.

Bucky had more important things to do right now.