Archive of Our Own

There was familiarity in scrapping around to survive. He remembered the times he stole, the guilt and shame that went with it, but the necessity in it that became an overwhelming force. He often tried to make friends with people who could get him food or supplies. The Winter Soldier was awful at making friends. He couldn’t recreate his old charm. He was more stealthy now and he used that as an advantage.

The cold crept in slowly at first but one night, the frost was sudden. Bucky woke with a start, sitting up fast and gripping the park bench with his metal hand.  He wasn’t thinking of Hydra, or being frozen in cryo sleep between missions. He was thinking of Steve.

Steve is gonna be sick soon.

But why? Bucky relaxed back into the park bench. His grip left a handprint in the wood but he didn’t notice. He had been avoiding thinking of the blonde. The feelings there were strong, too strong. He wanted to figure himself out before tackling another person.

The moon was down, it had to be well after midnight. Bucky walked out of the little park, a few blocks over, where a pizza shop had closed for the night not an hour before. The shop was new in town, and out back were messed up pizza orders. He took one and headed back to the park. A wind whipped through him in an alleyway. And again, he remembered, Steve, tiny and shivering as he spoke. “I c-c-coulda finisssshhhed . . . it. I had-d-d them on the r-r-ropes, Buck.”  

When the pizza was gone, Bucky knew he wasn’t going back to sleep. He wandered to a different part of the city, a part he actively avoided. He wasn’t here as the Winter Soldier. He was only here once, months before. When he could hardly grasp what was reality and what was the past. When he thought he needed the blond, he followed him everywhere. Bucky watched him get set up in a new apartment. As Bucky watched the other, he knew all the movements, the way he held himself, the way his feet walked barefoot over the floor. It felt like watching a sunrise, it was something Bucky knew happen everyday, but it had been 70 years since he really watched it.

He couldn’t bear it. He ran to the other side of the city and stayed away for months.

A gas station across the street proclaimed the time to be 1:42 am. He knew the layout schemes of the building, took note of them once and never forgot, he broke into a hall window, just outside of Steve’s apartment. He stood there, letting the cold in, watching the door.

This felt like standing before Steve again. As they had months ago. Bucky had to attack him, but he couldn’t. He wanted answers, he thought looking at Steve would help. Steve had other ideas. Steve attacked first and then-

Bucky didn’t want to think about it. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his flesh hand. The hall smelled like Steve, not the Steve Bucky knew, but the Steve in the distance. This one was small and fragile but as tough as any brick wall Bucky had ever seen. This was the smell of Steve at home. Not at war, not in a fight, not sick, but in a home, in a place that he put together, in a place he relaxed every night. Bucky reached out and placed his metal hand on the door. He was standing there for god knows how long when - -

“Bucky?” Steve asked, coming up the stairs behind him. Bucky turned around, eyes wide, now aware more than ever of how much bigger Steve was in real life than in memory. He wasn’t shivering, but the bags under his eyes made Bucky feel guilty. Bucky didn’t know much about his past, but he knew as much now, that it revolved around Steve. He needed Steve to know himself. He felt his heart pump hard and fast. Steve was still looking at him, moving slowly toward him.

“Would you like to come in?” Steve finally asked, when he was maybe a foot away from Bucky. Bucky nodded, slowly, watching Steve. He could see Steve was tired more clearly now, his eyes looked like bruises and his skin didn’t glow as he knew it usually did. His hair was matted to his head, slick with grease, unwashed.

Steve moved passed Bucky to open the door. Bucky was very careful not to let them touch. Steve’s apartment was clean and not very homely. Not like Bucky hoped. Modern art covered a lot of empty space and it overwhelmed him. There was however, a record player in the living room, Bucky stopped short in the entryway, looking at it. They never owned one, in Brooklyn, but a lot of people did. Bucky remembered a pair of twins him and Steve went to dinner with once, they had one in their room. There was another one, in a bar in London. A women set it up, her lips were so red . . . She was . . . With Steve. Was she with Steve? Bucky scrunched his face together at the memory. He was standing, stalk still, in the memory.

“I don’t have anything good to play on it yet. It was a gift from Natasha, she found it on one of her missions.” Steve was looking at the record player, then turned to Bucky. “She’s a friend.” Steve’s hand started to come up, Bucky whipped his head to look at it, ready to back away from the touch. Steve brought it back down.

“I’ve got some fresh clothes and a guest bed for you.” Steve started walking down a short hallway with three doors. Bucky followed, slowly. “Here’s the bathroom.” Steve opened the door to his right and kept walking. “My room is this one on the left. Yours is this one on the right.” Steve disappeared into his room. Bucky stopped outside the bathroom, he could see himself in the mirror. He looked nothing like the pictures in the Smithsonian, and that made it easier. He wasn’t Bucky, at least not yet, he wanted to be Bucky.

The bathroom was cleaner than any bathroom Bucky could remember. White tiles, white walls, white porcelain sink and toilet. No water stain in the shower either. Bucky liked it. He liked clean, and it was one of the things he noticed about a place. That was a Bucky thing, not a Winter Soldier thing. He nodded to himself. A knock came at the open bathroom door.

“Here’s some clothes. There’s towels and fresh toothbrushes in the closet next to the sink. Do you need anything else?” Steve was handing him a pile, Bucky was trying to figure out how to accept it without touching the other.

Bucky brought his flesh hand up to his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he used his voice when he said, very quietly “Water?”

Steve nodded, leaning awfully close to him to put the pile on the closed toilet seat before going to the kitchen. Bucky left the pile where it was and went to the guest bedroom. It was clean here too, it looked sparsely used. There was more modern art on the walls. Bucky ignored it and stood at the foot of the bed, he bent over and placed his palms on it, feeling how soft the blankets were and how firm the mattress was. A bed. He was looking down when he heard a click at the night stand. He looked up fast.

This made Steve frown. “Just me,” he whispered, leaving the water on the night stand. “I’m going to sleep. If you need anything, feel free to wake me up. You can use my soap in the shower.” Steve headed out of the bedroom.

“Wait.” Bucky watched Steve turn to face him, questioning on his face. Steve’s face looked concerned, but not burdened. There was relief there and curiosity. Bucky felt a certain trust wash over him, it was an old feeling, something he felt when he saw Steve’s face. He could read Steve like a book, even when no one else could. Steve never even minded it either, because he trusted Bucky too. Bucky felt that trust was still there and it made his chest hurt. “Thank you . . . ah”

Steve sighed, looking down, he had the whips of an almost-smile on his lips. “Just call me Steve”

-

Bucky washed away the grime from his skin. The water ran over him, hot and relaxing. He felt safe and private for the first time in his memory. It struck him simultaneously that he had been homeless and now not homeless. He wasn’t sure if he could stay in Steve’s apartment, but Steve felt like home.

He slept, warm and quiet for as long as his body would let him. He didn’t wake to the sound of screeching cars, he woke up slowly on his own and he didn’t know what time it was. There was a dead silence in the apartment. Bucky’s eyes snapped open. Sunlight wasn’t coming in his window, but he was on the West side of the building. He pushed the covers off him and reached his feet to the rug. It was so . . . Normal. He hadn’t dreamt, or woke in the night. Steve had given him jeans and a blue t-shirt to wear. He looked at his left arm, at least the star was covered. But he couldn’t leave the apartment without more on. The jeans hung low, a size too big for him.

The kitchen was an unmapped disaster of new technology. There was no way to light the stove, that Bucky thinks he couldn’t light if he wanted to, as it was covered in glass. He turned the knob, but nothing seemed to happen except a light came on, small and useless for lighting. He did however, get eggs from the fridge and a pan from the cabinet. He got himself a glass of OJ and placed it on the table. He located bread and was confounded again by the toaster. He put his hand down and tried—

“Ow FUCK ARE YOU FUCKING ME.” He ripped his hand away from the scorching hot glass, yelling more in surprise than pain. It was the most he spoke at once since Hydra fell apart. He backed away and fell into a kitchen chair, his metal arm gripped the wood as he looked at his right hand, burnt and throbbing. He was holding his breath, confused and seeing red.

“Uh, Buck? Bucky are you okay?” Steve ran into the kitchen, in his PJs, not quite awake yet. He assessed the situation. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He went to the sink and turned it on.

Bucky wasn’t moving. He was waiting, orders alway followed pain. He stared ahead, eyes glazing over. Steve got on his knees in front of the other, putting his eyes in Bucky’s line of sight, Bucky still didn’t see him. Steve made several attempts to touch the other, but he didn’t know where to put his hands. Finally he stood and put one hand on the back of Bucky’s flesh hand. Steve pulled gently and Bucky followed the guidance. Steve lead him to the sink and put his palm under the water.

Bucky snapped out of it then, pulling his hand away, he breathed in sharp.

“It’s okay. Bucky, it’s me, Steve.” Steve reached back for the hand, that Bucky reluctantly let him take again. He watched the exchange carefully, hissing as the water ran over the skin. Steve watched him, more tense now than when he was at Steve’s door the night before. He brought his free hand up to the metal shoulder, hesitating before placing it down, firmly with confidence.

Bucky looked to his shoulder, then to Steve, eyes wide, he moved away, trying not to offend while rejecting contact.

“You’re okay Buck. I’ll make breakfast.” Steve explained before letting both his hands fall to his sides. Bucky left his hand under the water as he watched Steve maneuver around the kitchen. One good night’s rest and his skin already looked much healthier, the bags were gone. Bucky wondered how many good nights’ sleep Steve had gotten recently. He didn’t think about it beyond that. He knew it would make him feel guilty.

“Go shower.” Bucky said. He wanted to say it in a normal tone but his voice was gruffer than he expected, and he sounded angry. He used to tell Steve to shower a lot. A specific memory doesn’t come to him. Steve gave Bucky a quizzical look as he cracked an egg into the pan.

“Yeah? You got this?” He poured some milk into the pan.

Bucky looked to his hand then back at Steve, he nodded at first, then as an after thought. “Yeah, I got it.”

Steve smiled, more to himself than anything, but Bucky saw it anyway. He went into his shower and Bucky finished scrambled eggs without incident. Steve bandaged him when he was out of the shower. What was left of the day became Steve teaching Bucky new and different things about the future. Bucky kept coming back to the television, he tried turning it on and off with both hands, surprised when it worked the very same with his metal hand as his flesh hand. It was sunset when Bucky asked to go for a walk. Steve indulged him, giving him a sweater and a pair of gloves.

-

They lived together like this for a while. Steve let Bucky live on his own terms in the apartment, encouraging him to make decisions, small or big about anything that came up, rather than making them for him. Bucky still wasn’t fond of physical contact. He avoided it when possible, never touching someone voluntarily, cringing when someone bumped him on the street. But he got used to Steve’s little touches. Accepting shoulder grabs, hand grazing and general closeness that happen when two people live together. Though he never initiated it.  

Steve eventually asked Bucky to report to SHEILD.

“No.” Bucky said, without looking up from his morning cereal.

“They can help you, Bucky. Regular mental check ups. Memory techniques.” Steve had rattled off the list of benefits before, and didn’t bother to finish it. He put the cereal and milk away.

“You’re good for all of that.” He put a spoonful in his mouth while he did the morning crossword with his right hand. “I don’t want to be poked and prodded and —“ Bucky’s spoon seemed to jump out of his hand and onto the table, the little bit of milk splashing on the paper. Bucky muttered.

“What?” Steve watched the whole exchange, Bucky let his arm rest on the table. Steve picked it up, moving the metal joints. The pinky didn’t move at all.

“I need a part.” Bucky muttered again. Steve smiled coyly.

“I know a guy who could fix this . . . But he works for SHEILD.” Steve put the arm back down on the table. The ball was in Bucky’s court and they both knew it. Bucky finished his cereal without saying a word. He put on clothes for the day and his best sweater.

“Alright let’s go.” Bucky mumbled around 10, without ceremony, after coming to the conclusion that he would rather report to SHEILD than have his arm act up much longer.

Steve beamed. “We’ll take the bike, we’re going to New York City.” He put the paper down that he wasn’t even reading, smile plastered onto his face. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as they walked out the apartment. “Hey, Tony, I’ve got something you’ll want to see, are you free this afternoon? . . . Great.”

Well, ‘works for SHEILD’ wasn’t wrong.

-

Steve drove them to the acting SHEILD base in DC first, Bucky had flat out refused to take the bike, which Steve realized was a bad idea to start as the Jersey turnpike wasn’t the best ride this time of year, the season for it was over. They got to the base and Steve files a field report about Bucky’s appearance in his apartment. Bucky would need certain clearances to enter the Avengers tower. The receptionist took Bucky’s picture.

“You’ve got Steve’s approval. You need two more approvals from level 3 or up members of SHEILD for me to remove your threat level. You need at least five approvals to become a card carrying member of SHEILD. One of those needs to be approval from a doctor after physical and mental examination reports have been filed. You will also need to make a statement on your own state of affairs.”

“Are you serious? He still has a threat level?” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, demanding answers from her.

“Sir, your clearance levels do not allow me to remove threat levels. I have listed him as inactive and unarmed . . . granted him clearances to Avengers tower, and I’ve called off pursuits of him, but I do need more than one person of your level to get it cleared completely. Or a director over ride but at the moment—“

“I know, I know.” Steve drops his hands.

-

“Hey Nat . . . Yeah . . . Actually he’s right here . . . I’m sorry! . . . He was— Yeah I know . . . Hey could you meet us at Stark’s tower?” Steve and Bucky were in the parking garage outside SHEILD, waiting by the car for Steve to get people lined up for Bucky. Bucky was sitting on a half wall “In a few days?  . . . That’s fine, we’re going to be there a while.”

Bucky stood up at that, giving Steve a concerned look, Steve put his hand up. “Awesome. I’ll see you soon. Thanks so much.” He clicked off his phone.

“What the hell. I thought we were just going for the day.” Bucky pouted, feeling betrayed.

Steve sighed. “I’m sorry Buck. We’ve got to get your threat level taken down, at the very least. If not a full member of SHEILD.” He reached out to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder but Bucky shrugged away, getting in the passenger seat. The ride was quiet, but it wasn’t tense. Bucky fiddled with the radio, never satisfied. Steve told him he had some CDs made. Bucky was confused at first, but he got it to work and big band music filled the car. A light smile touched Bucky’s lips. After two CDs played through, Bucky looked to Steve.

“Where are we going?”

“Midtown, not really anywhere near where we used to be.”

Bucky looked down, thumbing a travelers guide that was on the counsel. “Can we go though? Tomorrow? Is Coney Island still up?”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah. I haven’t even been there yet. We’ll go to Brooklyn tomorrow”

-

Stark Tower, now Avengers tower, as they found out when they entered the building was a buzz. The lobby level had low level SHEILD agents running to and fro. News stations played on plasma screens high above their heads. Bucky sucked in air, but Steve lead them through the least populated areas to get to a discretely placed elevator that read ‘Residence Only.’ Steve thumbed a small finger pad and the doors opened with ease to a glass elevator. They entered and Steve proclaimed “Stark residence.”

A smooth female voice responded. “Affirmative. Rogers, Steve, clearance level accepted. Barnes, James, clearance level . . .” A loading screen appeared over the glass touch pad on the wall. Steve held in breath, when it glitched out of existence.

“Welcome, Star-spangled man with a plan and Robocop.” Jarvis’s light British accent came over the intercom and the elevator began its ascent to the top of the building.  Steve cringed, looking to Bucky. Bucky cocked his head, one corner of his mouth going up.

“To think I forgot that song, of all things.”

-

An hour later, Bucky was in hell. He was strapped into a chair, heaving breaths. His flesh hand was full of Steve’s. Steve’s other hand rested on his shoulder as he spoke calmly and fluidly into his ear. “We’re in New York. Your name is Bucky Barnes, I’m Steve Rogers. It’s October 14th, 2014. Tomorrow we’ll go to Brooklyn.”

“This is all set now. And ask Pepper to fill out the paperwork. She knows my signature better than me.” Tony wheeled away from Bucky’s arm as he flicked up his goggles. “I’m not an agent, but I will write a glowing recommendation. That Pepper will word and send.” Bucky was stalk still, having been touched more in the last hour than he had since he woke up in 2014. Steve was at his right side, coaxing him to try out his fixed arm.

Bucky didn’t move and it wasn’t until Steve placed a hand on his  metal shoulder that he realized he was waiting for the pain to start. He used to throttle the people that worked on his arm. They always had to hurt him after they fixed him to keep him from doing that. But Steve’s hand rested on his shoulder, accepting, warm, and not painful. Bucky let out a breath and began to stand.

Tony cocked an eyebrow toward Steve as the two of them left. Steve gave him a shrug as the lab doors closed between them.

Pepper was prompt and professional in every way Tony wasn’t. She had Bucky’s paperwork, stamped signed and delivered with their dinner. A sticky note came attached, Sent the original to SHEILD, first dinner at the tower compliments of Tony.

Steve was positive it wasn’t Tony’s idea to send them dinner. He smiled to himself as he put Bucky’s paperwork in a bag.

Bucky explored Steve’s residence at the tower, there was a workout room and a living room the size of his entire apartment in DC. The kitchen and most of the walls were all chromium metal. His arm made bright reflections everywhere he went. He found it unsettling. The chromium was familiar and he couldn’t place why. He sat with Steve in the kitchen to eat dinner. They talked lightly about plans.

“Tony noted Dr. Banner will be here tomorrow. We could get his clearance.”

“After Cony Island, punk!” Bucky didn’t want to do much else before that.

“Yeah, jerk.” Steve smiled.

-

Bucky woke up screaming that night. He had been shouting his name, rank and number. He was dripping sweat and his flesh hand clawed at the chromium walls. They were just like the walls in all the rooms he was a human test subject in. He forced his eyes open. Concerned blue eyes looked down to him, he was saying something, soothing him.

“Steve?” Bucky remembered this scene. It was a dream he had, in another life. “I thought you were smaller.”

“Oh Buck.” Steve put his head down on the bed next to the other. Bucky’s memory was jogged then, it wasn’t a dream, they had experimented on him and he’d be dead if Steve hadn’t come. No— he wouldn’t have been dead, he would have been the Winter Soldier sooner.

“Steve . . . Does your room have these walls too?” Bucky gestured to the chromium.

“No . . It’s painted white plaster.” Steve explained, curiously.

“Can I stay in there?”

“Yes, of course,” Steve stood up, giving Bucky space to get out of the bed “I’ll stay in here.” Bucky wanted Steve to come with him. He remembers, he used to wake up next to Steve. He strained to remember if it was because they were in the same room or in the same . . .

“Steve.” Bucky stood up, voluntarily getting closer to Steve than he ever had willingly before. He could smell Steve, he smelled of freshly cleaned clothes and summer time. “Did we used to . . . Sleep together?”

Steve held absolutely still, breathing as shallow and as slow as he could. It had been months since Steve had thought that way. Bucky could hardly handle their skin grazing, Steve never considered he’d remember their physical relationship any time soon. But he hadn’t said—

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“No, Bucky, I mean, yes. We only had one bed in Brooklyn.” Steve watched Bucky closely to see if he was hinting at more. Bucky just nodded.

“Can we, again?” Bucky’s asking was hiding a certain desperation. His face was cast in shadow, so Steve couldn’t read what was going on.

“Of course.” Steve lead the way across the hall. His sheets were messy, the result of tossing around in his sleep. This bed was at least three times the size of the one they had in Brooklyn when they were kids. They got in at the same time, Steve separated the two sheets, giving Bucky his own. It didn’t take long for Steve to get back to sleep. Since locating Bucky, he could drift effortlessly between waking and sleeping as needed.

Bucky however, laid awake, eyes closed, he listened to Steve’s even breathing. It was finally as strong and steady as his soul always was. Bucky remembered the nights he woke to coughs and breathing fits, scared out of his mind but he would never show it. He remembered one year, the cold had set in weeks before and Bucky was just waiting for the other shoe to drop on Steve, who had been doing fine. It was the middle of the night and Steve fell out of the bed. Bucky scrambled to pick him up, his skin was on fire and he was a shivering mess. Bucky got him back on the bed, under all the covers.

The wall clock in Brooklyn had said 3am. Nothing would be open then . . . Bucky left the bedroom and got water from the kitchen. He set it on the nightstand, Steve was already sleeping again, whining and panting in his sleep. Bucky didn’t dare wake him by getting back in the bed. He paced, thinking what he could do. He knew he should have prepared but between the money for rent and food this month . . . He didn’t have money laying around to get medicine. He swallowed hard and the memory changed.

Still just as cold, it was twice as dark. There was no city, no moon in the sky. He heard Russians. They discussed logistics. His mind was a haze. His skin pricked all over, and then the voices were louder, clearer, feeling was returning to every limb, he was frozen and now . . . He was splayed out on a cement floor, eyes half open, he watched feet coming toward him.

Pain seared through him, from the neck down, he was high above the room now. Scientists, handlers, he knew, but there was red hair in the crowd, she was small and—

He was on the ground again, they demanded he stand and he had to do it without complaint. They shuffled him out of the room and drilled him, testing his arm and bodily functions. Pin pricks came all over, tests. They never told him how long he was asleep for, but he knew it was a very long time now. He didn’t remember getting put under, but that doesn’t say much.

Then there was fire everywhere. It covered him, he was screaming despite his training to not react to pain. Hands were on his shoulders, hot, soft and shaking him.

He snapped his eyes open. A light shown on the face before him, blonde hair, blue eyes, focused on him.

“Bucky? Are you okay?”

Bucky reached up to push Steve off, but he stopped, resting a hand on Steve’s arm. “Yea, just a bad dream.” He shrugged. Steve relaxed, falling back down on his side of the bed and out of Bucky’s hand.

“Does that happen often?”

“Every night I guess.”  Bucky watched Steve frown. He reached down between them with his flesh hand and he laced his fingers into Steve’s. Steve looked to Bucky, noticing that this was the first time Bucky went out of his way to touch him. Bucky squeezed once and left his hand where it was. “Good night Steve.”

Steve shut off the reading light and the rest of the night passed uneventfully.

-

Coney Island brought back memories as Bucky had wanted it too. He still hated coasters and heights. But he did them all anyway with Steve who was, surprise surprise, an adrenaline junkie. However, the whole place was so much dirtier than either of them remembered and crowded. They didn’t stay long.

They were in Brooklyn by high noon. The scrappy building that held their apartment was long gone, but the street remained. Where the butcher shop down the street was, was now a coffee shop. The only view they ever had from the apartment was of the building on the other side. They snooped around for a bit, walked around the block twice then sat in the coffee shop, with Chai teas.

“I remember the feel of the place. Different than it is now. I think it got pretty bad out here, then they gentrified it in the last few years . . .” Bucky was thinking out loud, as he often did while sorting memories. Steve nodded in agreement, sipping his Chai, he was remembering a different time, when noises had to be muffled and some fears were intertwined with pleasures. “It’s nicer now, than when we were here.” Bucky continued, but the memories felt like fog. He couldn’t grasp much else. He tried to think about the word home and what that would have meant to him, but he just kept coming back to Steve. His blonde hair. His blue eyes, always strong and determined, his body could fall right out from under him and he wouldn’t think twice about getting back up. And DC, an actual home in the 21st century for him.

Bucky watched the other, hunched over his mug, watching right back. There was something vital about Steve that Bucky was forgetting completely. He knew it, he felt it, but in this moment he also felt right. They could share a comfortable silence, or prolonged stare, it was part of their relationship. Life could never be normal for them, but Bucky decided he didn’t want it to be. He was content with the now.

Steve checked his phone. “Hey, we’ve got the evening, Banner is around if you’re feeling up for a psych and physical examination tonight.”  

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

-

Banner got them in and out rather quickly. He took a lot of information about Bucky’s arm from Tony’s report. He passed Bucky’s physical with flying colors, and minimal touching, Banner was very respectful; Bucky could not have been more greatful. The psych eval was a different story.

“Word triggers; until we know what they are, how many, and what they can make you do, you’ll only be down as stable, which will require authorization to use SHEILD training facilities and you can’t be put on fieldwork . . . They taught you Russian, I would suggest exploring what you know of it and finding someone in SHEILD who speaks it.” But Banner signed all the paperwork, and before the day was over, Bucky’s threat level was removed.

-

Tony left some champagne in Steve’s apartment. It had a sticky note on it telling them it was a gift, they drank it together as they watched low budget episodes of Star Trek together.

“Captain Spock, set phasers to—“

“No it’s Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock” Steve explained. Bucky was feeling the effects of half a bottle of champagne, laughing it up as Steve spoke.

“Let’s just — Mr. Captain Spirk then.” Bucky brought his legs up onto the couch and draped them in Steve’s lap, Steve laughed effortlessly. Bucky took a final swig from the bottle, finishing it off. Steve laid a hand over Bucky’s knees cautiously, watching the other’s reaction.

“So you really can’t get drunk then?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow, watching Steve’s hand on his legs.

“I’ve tried too. Never been drunk since that night we went out to Mundo’s.”

“Oh Mundo’s, that place was wild on a Monday night. It was drop dead insane that Saturday. Nearly got you laid that night.” Bucky smirked to himself. Steve tensed up, a blush making its way down his cheeks and covering his neck. Bucky had ‘gotten him laid’ that night, but by no dame.

“What?” Bucky’s smile dropped, he brought a hand to Steve’s like it was his natural thing to do and when they were hand in hand he locked eyes with Steve and froze. “Oh.” He remembered holding Steve’s hand before this, before last night too. At Mundo’s, in the mens bathroom, and then later in their apartment. “We were . . .” He whispered, leaning into Steve as much as their position allowed.

“What?” Steve leaned away. He wanted to hope, he wanted Bucky to remain whole, but the truth was Steve had hurt him. Steve had hurt him because they couldn’t be together. When Steve found Peggy he knew this was his out. She liked him. The first girl ever. Steve may have saved Bucky from capture, but he brought him into another hell. Where Steve took on bullies Bucky couldn’t protect him from and where Steve refused to be lovers again.

“Why didn’t you tell me! Stubborn jerk!” Bucky rapped Steve on the back of the head and stood up, looming over him. Bucky was angry. Angrier than he should be. There was more to this situation, but right now all he knew was that Steve had kept this vital part away from him. But he also really wanted to kiss him. So he did. He closed the gap between them, pressing their lips together and he remembered the last time he did this. Before Steve could accept or decline, Bucky was off him, backing up and stumbling into a seat on the ottoman.  

Bucky remembered walking all the way back to the base and then he and Steve had their first private moment in a tent. Bucky had met Peggy already and he’s seen the chemistry and he knew what was bound to happen, but he needed Steve at that moment. He needed home. And Steve refused him. He pushed Bucky away. Bucky took it well, in retrospect. He was with Steve till the end of the line after all. They both knew this would happen eventually. But it was a hit while he was vulnerable.

Steve’s hand on Bucky’s knee took him out of his zone. Steve was looking at him, pain on his face and an apology already being pleaded with his eyes. Bucky put his hand over Steve’s. “Bet you got girls lined up for you now.” Steve started to shake his head. “But it’s different now. There were two girls at Coney Island . . . And the couple in the coffee shop . . . They were.”

Steve nodded. “Bucky,” He said slow and sweet, his mouth cradled the sound of it. “I only ever wanted you— Peggy was amazing, but she wasn’t you, she was . . .”

“What was expected of you. I forgave you for that already. Almost immediately. I still followed you to my death.” Steve cringed at Bucky’s words. “I know if it could be different it would be and this . . .” Bucky looked down at their hands and stood up suddenly. He leaned over Steve again and planted a solid kiss on the top of his head. “I’m silly. Let’s talk about this in the morning.”

Steve watched him head into the shower. He had a faint rueful smile on his lips as he got ready for bed. The shower was still running when he laid down, but in the grip of sleep he didn’t miss the move of the bed and a warm hand reaching to hold his.

-

Natasha showed up before anyone was awake and elected to crash in Steve’s apartment. She whipped herself up a breakfast and lounged on the couch. Someone had conveniently left some Star Trek on, as though it was just for her to enjoy. She was asleep there when Steve stumbled out like clockwork at 6am.   He went for a morning run and he was sipping coffee at 8 when he noticed her and he smiled. That bum had her own apartment. Well, Clint was on a mission, Steve was the next best thing he guessed.

He put two cups of coffee on the counter, it would still be hot by the time they both woke up. He got in a shower. He prepared for the day here, a continuation of his thought process while he ran. He thought about talking to Nat, rehearsing it in his head. He thought about Bucky meeting Nat. Would he remember shooting through her? Steve felt himself get anxious over their meeting. He let it run down the drain.

Several crashes came from the living room. Steve nearly ripped the handle off the bathroom door as he ran out, a towel clinging to his middle.

Bucky, in his pajamas, was standing on the counter, in a fight stance, looking down at Natasha, who was sprawled over a flipped over couch. She was getting her footing when Bucky pounced on her.

“Bucky!” Steve started toward the brawl. Bucky looked up to Steve, assessing him, but not recognizing him.

Natasha began spilling Russian from her mouth. Bucky had her pinned under him, but he was listening to her intently. She gestured to Steve without taking her eyes off Bucky. Steve walked closer to them, with his hands raised. Natasha was still on her soapbox when Steve reached arm length from Bucky.

She kept her speaking pace when she said “Steve now!” and Steve tackled Bucky off her. Steve pinned him to the ground, trying to figure out what to say when Bucky’s body went limp.

“Whew, god what-“ Natasha started and stopped herself, watching the completely naked Steve Rogers straddle over Bucky whose attention was focused not on Steve’s face.

The moment continued until Steve finally spoke. “Bucky, are you with us?” He searched for eye contact.

Bucky snapped his eyes up to Steve’s face, “Y-yes.”

“What happened?” Steve was in full Captain America mode, naked or not there was no stopping him until he had answers.

“She,” Bucky gestured to Natasha “was speaking Russian in her sleep. I came out and something she said . . . It . . . I, I had no control.” Bucky fumbled the words as he tried to describe the sensation of mind control.

“Trigger words . . .” Steve said to himself and he let go of Bucky, stepping off him. He picked up the towel and walked past Nat. “I’ll be right back”

-

The three of them sat with coffee mugs at the island in the kitchen.

“I was dreaming about . . . Don’t laugh . . . Birds.” Natasha was explaining. “They were large and I was small and we were flying into New York. I wasn’t talking in my dream. I don’t know what I was saying.”

Bucky put his chin on his hands and sighed.

“Well, it was something, and it didn’t last long.” Steve looked to Bucky. “Did you snap out of it, or was it a slow come down?”

“I snapped out of it when— I think I was more susceptible to it in the first place because I had just woken up. I don’t think it would have worked if I had the brain power to rationalize it.” Bucky leaned back in his chair. He was antsy to have a moment alone. He remembered Natasha. She was there, when he got out of cryo, he trained her. She was much younger then, but it was her.

Once Steve was satisfied, Natasha filled out all the paperwork that Bucky needed for SHEILD she left. She suggested Coulson as the last necessary approval. Bucky felt there was tension between them. She knew stuff about him that he didn’t know, but she offered no opportunity to ask her. Waking her up by attacking her didn’t really help his case either.

“Sam!” Steve answered his cell phone. “Yes! Doing fine. We’re in New York, at the tower . . . Yea. Oh good. I’ll see you.” Steve beamed. Bucky looked at him, questioning.

“Sam was helping me look for you. As soon as I told him you were with me . . . He wasn’t too keen on popping by for tea, so he spilt and took on a few missions to help rebuild SHEILD. He’s back now.” Steve moved the empty dishes into the sink and Bucky smiled at the small gesture of cleanliness.

“He can be my last signature then and we can go home.” Bucky fidgeted with his metal fingers.

“You like DC?” Steve walked over to stand next to Bucky. His breath hitched then, as he remembered the night before, which had been placed on the back burner from the morning’s shenanigans. Bucky looked up at him and placed a hand on his arm, he just nodded, watching Steve.

Steve was watching him as well. He leaned down, closing space between them fast and placed his mouth on Bucky’s. They were both still as the the wall clock clicked in the silence. Bucky finally moved, placing both his hands on either side of Steve’s face. Bucky deepened the kiss, spreading their lips apart but keeping his tongue out of it. His heart beat fast and he breathed deep as he pulled away, but kept Steve’s face close.

“I thought I would never do this again.” Bucky was moving his flesh thumb over Steve’s cheek, watching intently. Memories flooded back to him. Too many to process at once came before him. The wood grains in their apartment, that he saw while falling asleep. A cold night he spent in the hall outside the apartment, sick out of his mind, but not wanted to bring it in to Steve. Steve’s size. That wasn’t clear until now. Why did Bucky ever let him out of the house? It was his bravery, he had decided one point after the war had started.

Steve put his hands on Bucky’s waist, smiling. “Don’t be such a sap.” He pushed their lips together again, hard and fast, he got Bucky to moan in his mouth. He pushed Bucky back, making space for himself as he moved to stratal the other’s lap.

“Oh Steve.” Bucky pulled out of the kiss, looking up. “That little military experiment really helped all your endowments.” Bucky hadn’t gotten so close to this larger body in the past. He knew the smaller version, he could feel it still, in his memory as hands ran over a flat stomach he loved, the delicate touch of an artist gripping his waist. He felt the very same hands on him now, power just behind the touch, able to hold him still while . . .

He pictured the washboard abs just out of sight in Steve’s shirt. He elected that his quality of living would be greatly increased if he could recatalog Steve’s new body in his memory.

Steve flushed from his cheeks down his neck. “I uh . . .” Bucky pictured the redness creeping down his chest as well, the full body blush Steve has always done, so some things didn’t change, after all.

“Sam is in the elevator.” Jarvis came on over the intercom system in the apartment. Steve lifted his head up, he had specifically asked Tony to set Jarvis so he didn’t speak in his apartment. He maneuvered his way out of Bucky’s lap and back in his own chair. Bucky’s hands lingered on Steve’s skin as long as he could until Steve was out of reach.

The elevator dinged and Steve finally broke the eye contact.

-

Sam filed the paperwork with no problems. Bucky was grateful, Sam wasn’t a question asker, he was interested in Bucky, but he trusted Steve that it was all good. The three of them made plans to catch up when they were back in DC. Sam had to fly, he was a full-fledged superhero now and more than happy to be doing super-duties.

Bucky let out a sigh of relief when SHEILD called to say all his approvals were processed and accepted. He would also need to have his arm scanned and catalogued in his file at a SHEILD facility, as well as procure a statement about his time as The Winter Soldier. It would be tedious. Bucky sighed on the ride back to DC. He was leaning his head against the window.

“If times are different now, why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky arranged his head so he could look at Steve. For the most part, Steve didn’t fill in his memory, not directly. He put Bucky in situations that would spark his memory. It was the best way to do it. Bucky appreciated that, Steve knew it all, he knew Bucky better than Bucky knew himself these past few months. Steve deliberately kept this out, despite that it would have been easy to trigger the memory. It could have triggered others as well. What their apartment was like, what Bucky was like before the war.

“I was planning to . . . But I wanted to find some way to test the waters. I didn’t want to scare you off. Peggy is obviously not here anymore. I was hoping . . .” Steve glanced to Bucky. “I still felt it was too soon.”

Bucky snorted a laugh. “It’s been 70 years, punk!” He sat up and interlaced his metallic hand with Steve’s. In an ironic way it felt like they had been stopped while time advanced and dumped them in a time where they could be together. He could hold Steve’s hand in public.

Steve drove with a smile and Bucky did eventually fall asleep. He didn’t dream.

-

Steve pulled off the highway and navigated his way through the DC streets. The sun was setting in the distance and the change in speed made Bucky wake up. He straightened himself out, stretching his limbs and yawning. These movements felt so human, as human as having a place he thought of as ‘home.’ DC wouldn’t always be his home, he decided. Now that he was out of New York, he yearned for it, his childhood was there, buried, behind brainwashing and 70 years of lost time, but it was solid. It overwhelmed him to be there, DC was his home now.  

He looked to Steve, driving, smiling. He was thinking of something, Bucky didn’t know what, but he knew that Steve’s default wasn’t a smile. Steve was serious and concentration was his usual look, Bucky can remember teasing the tiny blonde when he looked intense over a bowl of cereal.

“Secret to life in that bowl?”

“Shut up! Jerk!”

The memory faded when the muscular counterpart leaned closer to Bucky, kicking the car into park.

“Can I help you?” Bucky said, vindictively, as his body language betrayed him, closing the space between their heads, his metal arm coming up to cup Steve’s cheek.

“Mmmmm” Steve pushed their lips together and Bucky’s heart pounded right into his stomach. Steve kissed him slow and Bucky took the opportunity to compare them to his memory of what they once were. Smaller, but not softer, Steve’s lips were not so different. His face was unchanged in look, but he could feel the tension of muscles just under the skin, kissing that was . . . New. He brought his flesh hand to cup Steve’s neck. The muscles tensed and flicked when Steve moved back out of the kiss.

“We should move this inside” Steve spoke, low and in a way that Bucky was very familiar with.

-

Bucky pressed Steve up against the closed door. His mouth was on the other’s, moving fast and drinking Steve in. He put his thigh between Steve’s legs like he used to and Steve—

“Ahh.” As though on queue Steve gasped, Bucky noted that reaction was the same, but the strong muscle grip on his thigh was a new feeling. It was odd. Bucky had never made love to someone bigger than him.

Steve had his arms draped over Bucky’s shoulders, he was trying not to touch Bucky, as much as he wanted to, he still saw how Bucky reacted to touch from others and even from him on occasion. Steve let his breath hitch over Bucky’s lips as the dark haired one moved before him.

Bucky brought his hands to Steve’s stomach, tracing what he was imagining earlier, his hands touched the blonde’s skin, moving the shirt out of the way. He dragged his fingers over the mountains and valleys of muscle. Steve sighed into Bucky’s mouth and moved his hand behind the other’s head, wanting the attention focused at his mouth again, but he stopped with his hand loosely cradling Bucky’s head.

Bucky pulled his head away, his hands drifted up, hidden under Steve’s shirt. “You can touch me.” Bucky didn’t wait for a response, he bent down and lifted at Steve’s shirt more and placed his lips over one of Steve’s nipples. Steve gasped and touch Bucky he did, he brought his hand down and gripped Bucky’s ass. Bucky screwed his eyes shut as he mapped his way over Steve’s chest with his lips. He felt the unfamiliar pecs with a scent  that could shoot through his blocked memory to when he did this before. This was the clearest memory yet.

They were on a bed, it was small and if they weren’t on top of each other one of them would have fallen off. Bucky was laying with his head on Steve’s chest. It was small too, flat and it rose and fell uncertainty. Bucky remembers sleeping this way in the cold months, even in his sleep he would listen intently for any break in the unsteady rhythm of the other’s breathing. On the worst nights he couldn’t keep his head there, Steve wouldn’t be able to breath if he did, he had to settle for putting Steve on top of him and hoping he would hear the wheezing in his sleep. Bucky remembers the first night he slept without Steve there, uninterrupted, quiet, he got a deep sleep and he never awoke with more anxiety in his life.

“Bucky?” Steve still had his back to the door and Bucky had his mouth on Steve’s solar plexus. Bucky had stopped moving, as he did when remembering for the first time. Steve still had his hands in a light touch on the other’s butt. He pulled in, bringing Bucky’s face up to his own. “Let’s go inside.” Steve let go and fumbled for the door handle with one hand and his key with the other.

“I remembered the first night I went out for basic.”

“Why?” He held the door open, letting Bucky in after him.

“It was the first night I slept without you in years.” Bucky shrugged off his spring jacket, Steve had already taken his off in the hall, they both placed them on their chairs at the kitchen table.

“Must have been a good nights sleep.” Steve gazed over at Bucky, watching him lean on the chair.

“It was, I woke up thinking the world was ending though, I nearly threw up. I think I thought you were dead.” Bucky looked up to the ceiling.

Steve abandon his chair to stand next to Bucky, who stood up and placed himself flush against Steve. “Shall we?”

Bucky buried his face in Steve’s shoulder and nodded. The memory of anxiety faded fast by the time they were in the bedroom. Bucky pushed Steve onto the bed, following close behind, he straddled over the other, both hands on the skin of Steve’s stomach. He dragged them up and Steve slipped right out of his shirt. Steve placed his hands on Bucky’s shirt and began to rip it off as well. Bucky threw it aside before diving down onto Steve and pressing their lips together.

Steve lead the kiss, cradling Bucky’s head in his hands as Bucky balanced himself. Slowly, Bucky lowered his body onto Steve’s and the skin of their chest and stomachs touched with nothing in between. Steve let out a low moan and his hips checked up once, surprising even himself at the reaction. Bucky was beaming, he could feel both their hardnesses being pressed together through layers of jeans, but the feel of so much skin on skin was overwhelmingly pleasant. This was the total opposite of the cold and blank he had for the last 70 years. This was warm and soft and weaved through his memories many times, not one memory stuck out more than another and he was happy for that. He wanted to focus on the now. He curled his mouth around Steve’s before leaning away and gasping for breath.

“I want you to fuck me.” Bucky moaned into Steve’s ear. “Like you used to.”

Steve shook with noiseless laughter. “Nothing is like it used to be.” He hitched his legs around and cautiously moved Bucky onto his back, he straddled over him. Despite the permission to touch Bucky, Steve knew there would be a limit to it.

Bucky sensed Steve’s uneasiness. “Don’t worry about handling . . . We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Bucky hand his flesh hand grasping Steve’s arm and tracing soothing circles into it. Steve nodded and leaned over Bucky, keeping his left arm in Bucky’s hand he pulled out the drawer to his nightstand and pulled out a small bottle and a condom, he placed it all next to Bucky’s head.

“The future is so much better equipped for this.” Steve laid himself down on Bucky, basking in the sensation as he moved his hands down Bucky’s rib cage. Bucky brought his hand’s to Steve’s head and caressed his way through the blond’s hair.

“You haven’t—“

“God no!” Steve rimmed his finger’s at Bucky’s waistband. “I was curious. I bought a few different brands, it’s mostly the same thing but in different bottles.” Steve pinched the button on Bucky’s pants until it was free. He placed his lips on Bucky’s jaw and he felt the anxious pit in his stomach twist free, he sighed into the dark stubble. He began to suckle just below the jawline, a place he knew drove Bucky crazy.

Bucky felt the change in Steve’s attitude like a lightening strike. He was panting and their hips had started a rhythm. Bucky moved his hand’s to Steve’s pants and they paused briefly to kick  everything off. They were naked before each other now and Steve couldn’t help but stare. He was seeing the scars and the toned muscle, more than he could remember.

“Steve.” Bucky whined and Steve saw his problem throbbing under him. Steve reached for the bottle by Bucky’s head before moving down and planting his lips at the base, he dragged them over the underside of Bucky’s cock. Bucky moaned in response. Steve leaned away and dumped the lube onto his fingers.

“This will be cold.” Steve said as he moved one finger slowly into the puckered hole. Bucky let out a small yelp and gripped the bedsheets. Steve didn’t want to think about the last time he had been touched like this, he moved slow, Bucky was tense beneath him.

Steve brought his lips back to Bucky’s neck and his free hand to Bucky’s chest. “Tell me what you’re feeling.” Steve cooed. He stopped with his middle finger all the way in, he twitched it slightly, looking for the right spot . . .

“Keep going. Just slow.” Bucky moved into Steve’s lips, he was breathing deep and he moved his hands to the blonde’s ass, gripping it and relaxing into the position. Steve had a second finger in him when a spasm of pleasure went through Bucky. “Go back, that was-Ah oooo” he moaned into Steve’s ear, spreading his legs apart and craving more of that pleasure. He kept a movement to allow Steve to finger fuck him.

Steve got three fingers in and started scissoring, slowly as instructed, but he avoided giving Bucky a surge of pleasure again. Bucky whined as he bucked his hips up. “Give it to me!”

Steve smirked, happy to oblige. He removed his fingers and reached for the condom. Bucky grimaced, reaffirming his grip on Steve’s ass. Steve took his lips away from Bucky’s neck to roll the condom on. He placed a hand flat on Bucky’s chest and lined himself up.

Bucky was taking deep breathes as Steve slid into him. They were flush and Steve brought his other hand up to Bucky’s chest as well, both hands were spread over the other’s pecs. Bucky jerked his hips and Steve began a slow rhythm. Bucky pushed Steve into himself with his hands.

Steve moved his own hands, one gripped around Bucky’s hip and the other gripping around Bucky’s ribs. Steve grazed Bucky’s g-spot and he felt the resulting tremors right through his dick.

Bucky’s shakes turned into hyperventilation with no warning. He remembered this, tremors, shaking in a dark room, not pleasurable. A residual pain shot through the scars around the metal arm. Bucky went ridged, trying to block out the memory before it could take him. “Stop. Stop! I-“

Steve didn’t think twice before backing out and letting go of Bucky. Steve fell onto his back on the bed next to him. He watched Bucky curl into a fetal position, his eyes screwed shut, he was still hyperventilating.

“Buck, it’s okay.” Steve put his hand out and then down, not wanting to touch him and trigger something. “You’re safe, I’m here.” He coaxed, rolling onto his side to face the other.  

Bucky reached out and took Steve’s hand in both of his, he brought it close to his face and he held it there until his breathing found a stable pace. He was safe, the memory wasn’t real, not any more anyway. He could smell Steve’s skin as he held his the other’s hand. He felt the memory tugging at him and he loosened his eyes without opening them and let the memory wash over him.

It was dark and he was in a stone room. It was cold and it was 1945. He was shivering, quivering as he watched his breath in the one ray of moonlight coming through a very distant window. His one good hand gripped the stub that was on his left side. Someone was coming for him. They strapped him in a chair, bracing his legs, his hips, his chest, his head and his entire right arm. He was speaking snark, but it was to hide how terrified he was. They had him. Like they did months before and this time no one would save him. When he woke up he had a new arm and he hated them for attaching their technology to him in a way he needed.

Bucky opened his eyes to Steve, stalk still and seeming to be holding his breath next to him.

“Breathe. I don’t even think Captain America can survive asphyxiation.” Bucky smirked, still gripping Steve’s hand he moved it so it was cupping his cheek. Steve curled his fingers around Bucky and drew circles with his thumb. Bucky moved closer so he was in the other’s arms. This is what safety felt like.

“It was 1945, just after they captured me, I was sitting in a dungeon for hours. I thought how much a miracle it was for me to survive that fall only to die later somewhere else, somewhere more terrible.”

Steve brought his hand slowly down Bucky’s side, over the metal and rested it in the dip of his waist. He sighed in relief that the other was okay, 1945 was a long time ago anyway, so they tell him. Bucky had his hands folded over Steve’s chest when he looked down. He pushed Steve onto his back and away from him. He went down and placed a kiss on Steve’s hip bone next to his still hard dick.

“Buck you don’t hav-“

“I want to. Don’t put your hand on my head.” Bucky could explain to him tomorrow how being secured down made him feel; but right now, he just wanted to make Steve feel as good as possible. He threw off the condom and he took Steve’s length in his mouth. He quickly found he couldn’t take it all like he used to.

“Ahh hah” Steve laughed lightly, placing his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky swirled his tongue around the tip and turned the laughs into moans. Steve felt pleasure overwhelm his ability to think, Bucky’s mouth was a far away dream for a long time but now it was real again.

“Ohhhhh” Steve moaned as Bucky used his flesh hand to pump the base and the feeling went through Steve as unbearable pleasure. It was too soon when he was coming into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky took it all, swallowing it.

“When you eat well you always tasted better. That’s always been my real reason for getting you the best food I could.” Bucky laid down next to Steve.

“Shut up.” Steve smiled and he brought his hands down to return the favor.

Bucky moved away from his hands. “Another time.” He gave Steve a light kiss on the lips and returned to his curled up position in Steve’s arms. “‘Night.”

Steve let out a sheepish smile and they were both asleep in minutes.