Chapter Text
Bucky can do nothing once Steve’s temper spikes like that. He remembered as much from the old days. Stubborn little shit always had to act on impulse, even if it meant getting his ass beaten into the ground. Of course, Bucky had always been beside him to help clean up the mess Steve made. But now, this was different. This time, the stubborn little shit wasn’t so little, and he was being dragged around by the balls by some red-haired dame that didn’t know a good thing when it hit her in the face. Maybe, just maybe, Steve was right to want to truth of the situation he’d gotten himself into this time.
But whether or not he could handle that truth was another story entirely. And right now, Bucky was beginning to think that he couldn’t.
Heartbreak wasn’t something anyone was able to escape, and it seemed that Steve was having the hardest time getting past it. It kills Bucky to see his friend like this. Worst of all, the way Steve had just disappeared that morning with no indication of where he’d gone had been one of the most frightening things Bucky could remember. Bruce had assured him for hours that Steve was just fine, and that he’d more than likely just forgotten his phone out of habit. But Bucky had a bad feeling the entire day. They hadn’t seen Steve the way he had in the past few weeks. They didn’t see the way Steve would lie lifelessly on the couch reading, or drawing, or sometimes watching television. Bucky knew that Steve only bakes when he’s upset, and at least a dozen times so far there were fresh muffins or cookies sitting on the kitchen counter. Steve was spiralling, and Bucky couldn’t stop it because Steve wouldn’t let him help.
Bucky is absolutely despondent for having told Steve what he had witnessed between Natalia and Clint after the mission. He has a right to know. Bucky tries to reassure himself, as he sits back down to finish his report. If it was me, I’d want to know too.
Maybe this is just the push he needs to leave that cold-hearted bitch behind. Maybe this will inadvertently push him into your waiting arms…Err…Arm? His conscience says.
Bucky flexes his steel fingers and sighs. I’d do anything to have him…I just don’t want to watch him suffer like this.
He does his best to get back to his work, to finish off his report for Tony before morning, but his eyes keep looking towards the elevator, waiting for Steve to get back. Bucky knows that Steve is going to need him when he returns, and Bucky is determined to stay right here and wait. But he can’t focus.
Bucky gets back up from his seat and mills about the apartment, straightening everything up to military standards, not that their place is what one would ever consider messy. He picks around the room, putting the few dishes left on the counter away, thoughts drifting back to the mission that had taken place earlier that evening all the while.
What would have happened if Steve didn’t show up when he did? Bucky thinks, smoothing out one of the pillows that sit on the couch. Would I have actually killed that thug? Would I have snapped that easily? I mean, after everything these guys have done for me, taking me in like this…Would I really just go back to what I used to be so damn easily?
He looks off into space as he thinks it over. Of course, he likes to believe that he wouldn’t ever dare do something like that, not after all the work Steve, Bruce and Sam have done to make him half way normal. But, he’d almost lapsed. And it had been so easy just to slip back into that shell. Like the Soldier was just hovering in the background, waiting for a moment of weakness in Bucky to crop up, so he could take back the body that had been given to him. Bucky shoots his steel hand a glare.
Damn this thing. He curses, as the steel fingers ball into a solid fist. Damn Hydra. Damn the whole fucking war.
His thoughts drift away from the horrors of that day and fall back to the earlier conversation with Steve, before he’d stormed off. Steve had been right; despite the awful living conditions they’d faced back then, the years spent living in that decrepit apartment had been the best Bucky could remember. That he could partially remember, anyway. Not everything had come back yet, but a lot of it had and what had surfaced was good. Hot summer nights spent out on the fire escape, trying to find some kind of breeze to cool down. Cold winter days spent huddled in bed with Steve to keep the little fucker warm. He smirks to himself and continues to poke around at things to keep himself busy.
By the time he’s done all he can, Steve still isn’t back. He’s lost track of time, isn’t sure of how long his friend had been gone, but he was sure it was closing in on a couple of hours. Or at least, that’s how it felt. Bucky sighs and sits back down to finish his report for Tony, who is expecting it by morning. For the life of him, Bucky can’t think of a more mundane and redundant task than this. With all the footage from the cameras and the audio from the headsets of him, Natalia and Clint; Bucky doesn’t see why a written testimony is needed. Well, if it’s what Tony wants, I’ll do it…He thinks with an annoyed sigh.
Steve storms into the apartment an hour or so later, his every muscle wound tight, looking like he was ready to fight someone. Bucky knows that look…Well, he did, kind of anyway. He knew it when Steve was five-foot-four and maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet with his pockets full of rocks. It was harmless back then, almost funny in a way. Like that little scrap was going to take on someone three times his size. But now, Steve’s six-feet-four-inches of solid muscle and immeasurable power, and that look was downright frightening. Whatever had happened down in the common room between he and Natalia had clearly left a mighty terrible taste in Steve’s mouth.
As calmly as he can, Bucky lays his paperwork aside and rises from the table. He knows that in this kind of a situation, Steve was going to want to lash out. He was going to want to take his anger out on something. And the only thing in the room strong enough to withstand Steve’s strength was him. “Steve,” Bucky starts slowly, walking towards the fuming man. “Talk to me, pal. What happened?”
Steve’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and Bucky knows that he’s biting back something bad. “She used me.” Steve spits, voice wavering, threatening to break. “I fell in love with her, and she used me! I thought that’s what men did; took advantage of the way someone felt. I thought that maybe it was just bad timing like everyone tells me. But NO, she was with Barton the entire fucking time, Buck. Natasha never gave a damn about me; I was just some…Something different when Clint wasn’t around.” He’s pacing the living room, one hand on his hip, the other buried in his hair as he vents. Bucky stands silently, both arms folded over his chest — steel over flesh — as he watches and listens. “What the hell was I supposed to do, turn her down?! HA! Yeah, like fuck I’d do that. I never wanted to fall for her, it just happened! And she acts like I was the one who did something wrong!”
Faster than Bucky realized, Steve grabs a glass that had been sitting on the coffee table and hurls it at the plate glass window across the room with a frustrated growl. The cup shatters with a crash, raining tiny shards onto the dark wood floors. He’d seen Steve like this only once before; the day Bucky had gotten accepted into the military and he was left behind because of his frail little body. Something about him now is even more heartbreaking than it had been back then Bucky realizes as he moves out of Steve’s way while he circles the coffee table, chest heaving.
“You’d think she would have at least had the decency to tell me that she was with Clint. I asked her! I asked her if they were together before anything happened — because I’m a decent person like that — and do you know what she told me? She told me they were nothing. That there was nothing between them other than sex. I would have stopped before we slept together the first time if she’d just told me the truth and none of this would ever have happened. I wouldn’t be lying to myself when I say I don’t want her. I wouldn’t be so fucking hurt!” Steve’s cheeks have grown wet with tears that have fallen from his bluer-than-normal eyes, tears he probably doesn’t even notice. Bucky keeps silent still, watching as Steve chucks one of his sketch books across the room, scattering its pages everywhere, even though his every fibre is screaming at him to go wipe those tears away. It’s followed by another, then a heavy book that was sitting on the coffee table. “I was SO CLOSE to being past this! I was so close to being done with her. Then last week, she comes up to me, brazen as the day is long and has the nerve to try and speak to me about ‘us’? Asks if I was ok, even! And of course, I tell her that I’m not, really and that I want to at least give us another shot. She didn’t say anything, of course, just smiled and walked away.
So, I tell her everything you just told me. Asked her what in the hell we were if she was with Barton. Oh, she got a kick out of that and tells me that there never was an ‘us’. Tells me that she’s actually been with Clint for what, three, four years now? IF SHE’S WITH CLINT, WHY THE HELL WAS SHE FUCKING ME!?”
Bucky watches as Steve goes to flip the coffee table and catches him around his midsection with his steel arm, its mechanisms wiring and clinking against Steve’s straining body. “You gotta calm down, Steve!” Bucky says in trying to diffuse the situation before the blond destroyed the entire apartment. “Why don’t you go and change and we’ll go down to the gym and blow off some steam?”
An elbow to the chin causes Bucky to stumble back, letting Steve go in the process. “Blow off steam!?” Steve laughs, wiping a hand down his face. “Jesus, Bucky, if it were that easy to forget everything I’d have done it months ago!” Bucky just sighs and slumps down onto the couch, watching helplessly as Steve continues his pacing of the living room. “You know what the worst part of all this is? I never had any intention of ever falling in love again when they woke me up. I went under with a heart heavy enough to sink a fucking ship, full of so much shit that got left unsaid. When I came to and everything came back to me, I promised I’d never let myself be pulled so low by someone else ever again, especially when I knew I couldn’t have them.” He swallows hard, runs both his hands through his hair and Bucky is almost afraid he’ll rip it all out. “But look at me now. I’m worse off than I ever have been.”
A thought strikes Bucky then, at those words. Who had Steve been in love with before he went under? He knew that Peggy Carter had somewhat of a crush on Steve, and that Steve had kept her picture in his compass in the field, but had it really gone that far after Bucky fell? Bucky does his best to push the nagging question aside as he gets to his feet again, keeping his distance from Steve. “That’s not true.” Bucky offers. “You’re here, you’re alive. It could be so much worse, Steve.”
He can see the way Steve’s eyes turn on him then, and they’re filled with rage. Steve grabs Bucky’s shirt and hauls him in to the empty space between the kitchen and living room, shoving him roughly. Ok, so he wants a fight. Bucky thinks, catching his footing in time to block a punch. Another flies towards his stomach and he catches it with his left arm, before batting at Steve’s head with his right hand. Steve swats him away, landing a solid punch to his jaw. “Worse!?” Steve all but shouts, shoving Bucky backwards again and knocking him to the ground. Being as quick as he is, Bucky rebounds himself to his feet, swiping one leg out to try and trip Steve. But Steve catches it and flips Bucky back to the floor, this time on his stomach. “None of the people that I’ve ever felt anything for will ever return it. Do you know how horrible that feels!?”
Preaching to the choir, Stevie. Bucky thinks, kicking out with a bare foot, catching Steve square in the chest.
The blow hardly fazes Steve, who keeps on ranting. “What am I supposed to feel!? Tell me! Am I supposed to be cold and emotionless? Am I even allowed to have feelings for someone else!? Is Captain America allowed to be human sometimes?!” Steve’s fist misses Bucky’s face by a fraction of an inch, Bucky having turned his head at just the right moment. Bucky can see the tears just rolling down Steve’s face now, and knows it’s only a matter of time before the wall of anger crumbles and he dissolves. So he takes the beating. Bucky gets back to his feet and they exchange a series of fast smacks, the last one splitting Bucky’s lip open. “Tell me what to do here, Buck!”
Bucky catches Steve’s fist in his metal hand, and lets their eyes meet. “I can’t do that, Stevie. I really can’t.” With more effort than he thought he’d need, Bucky shoves Steve away. “You just have to let her go.”
“It’s not just Natasha!” Steve shouts, lunging for Bucky again. “Everyone I’ve ever loved or cared about is DEAD! My mother: Dead. Peggy: Not gone yet, but not far off it —” A fist connects with his stomach and Bucky feels a little winded, and not just from the blow.
“I’m still here.” Bucky snaps, his tone a little harsher than he intended on it being. “So no, not everyone. You still have me.”
Steve stops then, his hands falling to his sides as he stares over at Bucky. He doesn’t say another word, but Bucky can see the exact moment when Steve completely falls apart. Bucky steps forward and sighs, motioning slightly for Steve to come to him. Steve does, and lets Bucky tug him in to his arms, his forehead resting on Bucky’s flesh and bone shoulder. Bucky feels the way hot, heavy tears drip onto his skin and Steve’s broad shoulders shudder with each shaky breath. “It’s ok, pal. I’m here.” He says gently, tugging Steve in as close as he can. Bucky’s heart can’t break any more than it does in that moment, hugging Steve in close, like Steve had done for him months ago now. He rests his flesh hand on the back of Steve’s head as the blond buries his face against Bucky’s neck, and holds tight to him with the steel one. Steve clutches at his shirt as Bucky talks to him softly, holding him tight to his chest.
“You’ll be alright, I promise.” I’ll make sure of it. “I know buddy, it hurts. It always does.” I know better than you think. He swallows thick, trying to remember how to breathe. “You can do so much better, Steve. You’ll find someone else.” I’d never treat you like that. “She doesn’t know what she’s missing.” No, but I do.
Steve pushes away from Bucky a few minutes later, wiping roughly at his eyes with the back of a hand. “God, what the fuck happened to me? I never used to be like this.” He says, trying to laugh the hurt off, but failing miserably.
Bucky smiles a little. “Same thing that happens to everyone, Stevie, you might be pumped full of super-soldier serum, but you’re still only human.” Steve rolls his reddened eyes, trying to drive away the still falling tears. “We’ve all been here.”
“Except you.”
“No,” Bucky corrects, lowering his gaze. “Especially me.” Steve sighs again and paces the floor some more, both hands clasped behind his head, eyes focused on the ceiling. “Why don’t you go and get some rest?” Bucky says as he sits on the back of the couch, watching Steve closely.
Steve nods. “Yeah.” His voice is rough from raising it so much, and the tears. “Yeah, maybe…”
Bucky watches as Steve moves in a dazed way through the apartment, to his bedroom. He waits to hear the door shut, but it doesn’t. Bucky knows that it’s an unconscious cry for company on Steve’s part, as it always had been. No matter how brutal their fights got when they were kids, Steve would never shut Bucky out when it was over. It didn’t matter how mad he got, or how sad he was; Steve always let Bucky back in when all was said and done. Bucky waits a while, giving Steve some space, while he finishes up his report.
It’s gotten very late, and Stark is expecting him in the lab first thing in the morning. Then again, Stark was always in the lab, so whenever Bucky showed up would be good enough. But he’s tired and sore; both from the mission and the beating Steve had just laid on him. Blood has dried on his lower lip and he runs his tongue along the split as he gets up from the table and stretches. He moves silently down the hall and pauses at his bedroom. Just to be sure…He thinks, passing his own room by. He leans against the wall beside the door frame and tips his head towards the open door. “You ok?”
“Not exactly.” Comes the muttered reply.
“Need some company?”
“Yes please.”
Bucky can’t fight the little smile on his lips as he moves quietly into the room, closing the door behind him. “Move in, then.” He says, poking Steve in the ribs. The blond glares at him in the dark and shifts over to make room. Bucky sits up with his back against the headboard, Steve sprawled out on his back, big blue eyes gazing up into space. They don’t say anything; just being near one another is enough. Bucky knows that Steve knows he can vent away, but Steve won’t. It’s not in his character to talk something to death like this. He’d gotten what he wanted off his chest, and that was it. Bucky knew not to push to make Steve open up either. That never ended well. But the silence was familiar and comfortable, and soon, Steve’s eyes sag closed and his head drops off to one side.
They’d done this a million times over the years; Steve sleeping quietly as Bucky keeps watch over his friend. Before, it had been to make sure the little runt was still breathing through the nights. After that, it was Bucky’s turn to stand watch for the Commando’s and Steve refused to let him sit up alone. Lately, Bucky simply just refused to sleep. He still has nightmares that leave him winded when he wakes up. Sometimes he finds himself screaming and once or twice he woke up with his steel hand clamped around Steve’s throat. But still, it was comfortable here, listening to the steady deep breathing that came from the sleeping man beside him.
His eyes wander down to the sleeping face beside his right hip and his lips quirk into a weak little smile. “How’d we get here, Steve?” Bucky says quietly, as Steve sleeps. “Look at us, a couplea kids from Brooklyn...Well, we were. Now you’re Captain America and I’ve killed hundreds of people without knowing I did it. How’d we get so fucked up?”
Bucky sighs and reaches down to gently brush a few loose strands from Steve’s face. “You know, there was so much I didn’t say back then. So much I should have told you before I shipped out.” He continues, knowing that the other’s sleeping deep enough that he can’t be heard. “Shoulda told you not to follow me, even though I know you weren’t gonna listen. Shoulda told you how perfect you were just as you were then. I really shoulda told you how I felt, too. That maybe you bein’ my best friend was never enough for me.” Bucky sighs sadly, his eyes closing for a moment.
“Jesus Stevie, I should have said it when you saved my ass from Hydra the first time. Shoulda told ya right then and there in that room when I laid eyes on you…All big and strong and glowing gold. I thought I’d died, I thought you were an angel come to take me away. I guess I wasn’t entirely wrong…You just had a different destination in mind.” He smirks again and runs his flesh hand through Steve’s soft hair. “I had all the opportunity in the world before we started kickin’ ass with the Commandos too. Maybe we could have had some time together, ya know? Maybe if you’d gone that way, anyway. I could have said something so many fuckin’ times and couldn’t because I was scared. Maybe I should wait until you’re actually conscious before I say anything now, but I still can’t look you in the eyes and say it because I’m scared shitless you’ll force me out and I can’t deal with that, Steve. I can’t lose you again.”
Bucky slides down, so his head is on the pillows and he’s face to face with Steve. The blond’s face is slack and relaxed and for the first time that night, he looks at peace. Bucky turns onto his side to face Steve. His left hand comes up and gently rests against Steve’s cheek and Bucky wishes to god he could feel it under his fingers. Bucky lets out a shaky breath that he didn’t even realize he’s been holding, steel thumb running across the perfectly shaped cheekbone underneath it. “If you could hear me, you’d tell me this was terrible timing because of the whole Natalia drama you’re dealing with, but I don’t care. If I don’t say something, I’m going to lose my mind. I love you, punk. I love you so much that it hurts and goddamnit, I’d do anything to make you see that you don’t need her...That I’d do right by you.”
He tilts his own chin up and presses his lips softly against Steve’s forehead, before leaning away. Steve’s face is still slack, though his lips have parted. Bucky shakes his head to himself and turns away onto his other side. It seems like no time before his own eyes close and he falls into a peaceful sleep…
The Stark Christmas Gala takes place at a fancy hotel in the centre of New York, and the red carpets are rolled out for the rich and the famous. The Avengers make their way through throngs of people begging for a photo or autograph and Steve takes his time to stop and talk with a good many of them. Bucky stands by with a smirk, watching as his friend idly chats with the young any the old, the rich any the poor. Steve’s a good man, doesn’t discriminate. They finally enter the Gala and it’s a stunning sight. People from all over are dancing with one another, mixing and mingling as the orchestra plays a waltz from The Nutcracker. Bucky remembers seeing it danced in a theatre when he was just a child and to this day remembers the way the ballerina’s floated so gracefully across the stage. He smiles.
Steve leads him through the people towards the bar, where he orders them both a glass of highly expensive whiskey. Bucky takes it gratefully and watches in silence as the people interact with one another. He’s not nervous, the anxiety is non-existent, and he feels great. Steve is all smiles and light as he always was, while he shakes hands with dignitaries and poses for more pictures with the guests. A pretty blonde slides up beside Bucky then, her hair pinned off her face and over one shoulder elegantly. Her emerald green evening gown flows gracefully to the floor, outlining her shapely body in satin. Bucky flashes a charming smile that matches the one she gives him. “Sergeant Barnes, is it?” The woman says, her voice a musical tone that Bucky had often times been drawn to back in the ’30’s.
Bucky extends his right hand, nodding. “Indeed it is.” He says, as she moves to shake it. Bucky’s quicker and lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her fingers. The girl flushes a deep shade of pink, and her once confident smile turns shy. “And to whom do I owe this pleasure.” Her name is lost over the applause of the crowd for the orchestra, but Bucky smiles all the same.
"I see you’ve come her alone. That’s a shame; handsome thing like you ought to be out dancing the night away.” She says, sizing him up from where she stands.
Bucky feels a strong arm slide around his waist as Steve finally pries himself from the sea of adoring fans. “Who says he’s here alone?” Steve says, giving the girl a smile as he winks. Bucky rolls his eyes and laughs as the woman’s eyes widen and her ruby lips drop into an ‘O’. She offers a sincere apology and shuffles away, clearly embarrassed as the pair chuckle to themselves. “See, I told you we should have just said something to the media beforehand. Now I have to beat the women away from you with a stick.”
Bucky snorts and turns to face Steve. “Yeah, because you’re really lacking attention.” He drawls, taking Steve’s hand, leading him to the dance floor. The rest of their team is already there; Pepper and Tony, Thor and his lady, Sam and some new date, Nat and Clint. But the eyes of every guest seems to fall on them. “This ‘saying something’ enough for you?” He asks, pulling Steve in close, before easily falling into step with the rest of the couples. Steve blushes a bright red, laughing and rolling his gorgeous blue eyes, but follows along…
The dream fades as quickly as it had come and Bucky drifts somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. His can still hear Steve’s warm, loving laugh in his ears, and the orchestra playing Tchaikovsky. He sighs, still feeling the way Steve’s body had pressed against his, and the way that warm, strong arm had wrapped around his waist so perfectly, like Bucky was built just for that space. It had been the most pleasant dream Bucky could recall having. His lips tug back into a smile as he nuzzles into the pillow; oblivious to the fact that Steve’s body is folded around his, and that the arm around his waist is no illusion.