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Steve spends several days sulking around the apartment, unwilling to even go into the Common Room with the others. He doesn’t want to see Natasha right now. He doesn’t want to see anyone right now. The morning after she’d walked out on him for the final time, he’d sent her a very brief text, one that had not needed any follow-up.
I can’t do this anymore. We’re done.
He hated to do it, hated having to put an end to something that had been so, so good. But he knew it was for the better. Natasha couldn’t be with him the way he wanted her to be, and that was not going to do. Sure, he loved her, but what was the point in wasting his time on someone who couldn’t —no, wouldn’t — love him back? So he hides away in his apartment. Bucky is always there, never too far just in case he needs anything; be it something to eat, a drink, or even just someone to listen. Steve forgets how good a listener Bucky had been back before the war, often listening to Steve vent for as long as his stunted lungs would allow about various issues of days gone by. His friend would sit quietly, his grey-blue eyes focused on Steve and Steve only. He never interrupts, just nods quietly and listens, and for that Steve is thankful.
Bucky is starting to come back into his own as well. He takes to going to the shooting range with Sam and Clint at least twice a week, in between his regular work-out routine, and soon, the once broken soldier starts to put himself back together. He tells Steve that he eventually plans on going back in the field — if Fury lets him — and that Tony has already set to work on new combat gear. Steve can hardly fight off the grin that spreads over his face at the prospect; he’d be fighting side-by-side with Bucky again, like it always should have been. He always did feel safer during the war, knowing that Bucky was perched somewhere in a tree or some other high point, picking off anyone who tried to sneak up on Steve from behind. Sure, Clint was there these days, but Steve didn’t always trust the arrows to hit their marks…Not that he’d ever say as much to Clint.
But even the good news does little to take his mind of his new found loneliness. He hadn’t felt this empty since before Bucky had come back. His heart aches and pulls in his chest, and he feels lifeless. The others start finding his absence rather concerning, and they each do their best to attempt to draw him from his room, but it’s no good. Tony shows up one night dressed up nice and ready to hit to town, practically begging Steve to go with him but Steve refuses. Sam comes to the apartment every morning to get him up from their usual run, but Steve tells Sam to go on without him. Hell, he even turns Bucky down for some quality gym time.
Instead, Steve spends his shockingly ample amounts of free time creating. He draws some days, others it’s painting. Sometimes he even bakes, which everyone seems to be appreciative of. When he gets really down, he writes his feelings down in a journal he keeps tucked away in the top drawer of his night stand.
It drives him crazy, all the things that float through his brain in the run of a day. One minute he’s pissed off at the fact Natasha hasn’t tried to call at least once in the days since they split. Then the next he’s staring at her number on his phone, resisting the urge to call her and apologize for being so bold with his feelings. He just wants to be done with the whole thing, so he can leave it alone and move on. But apparently, getting over your first real love is easier said than done. Steve thinks, tossing his phone down onto the coffee table before dragging his hands down his face, slumping back into the couch.
She’s not your first love, punk. Bucky’s voice in his head chides. He hates how much his conscience sounds like his best friend sometimes. You loved him first; you just never let yourself accept it. Steve just sighs and picks up the book he’s been trying to read for days. When that doesn’t work, Steve heads off into his room to try and sleep. He tosses and turns, sprawls out across his bed in a hundred-and-ten different ways before realizing it’s a futile effort.
It’s late into the night and nearly two weeks after Steve called it quits with Natasha. The ache becomes too much to take alone, so Steve drags himself out of the now too-big bed and tugs a t-shirt over his head, shuffling down the hall to Bucky’s room. He taps on the door with his knuckles and rests his forehead against the painted surface. “You still awake?” He asks.
Bucky grumbles something in reply, and Steve can hear him shifting around on his mattress. “Yeah, come in.” Bucky calls back. Steve pushes the door open only to find Bucky sitting up with his back against the headboard, nose buried in a thick book. He peers up at Steve from over the edge of his book and arches an eyebrow. “You ok?”
Steve nods and shuffles into the room, closing the door out of habit. He sinks onto the bed beside Bucky, their shoulders pressed together like they used to do back when they were just kids and grabs for the pen and notepad that sits on Bucky’s nightstand. Steve knows Bucky keeps it there just in case a memory comes to mind at night that he wants to ask someone about the next morning. It was a practice he’d kept back in the 30’s too. Steve smirks at the little reminder of simpler times and sets to sketching again. “Reading anything good?” He asks, trying to turn the subject from himself.
“A Feast for Crows.” Bucky says, lifting the book so Steve can see the cover. “It’s part of a series Stark mentioned. Bastard just keeps killin’ off all the good characters…” He grumbles. “Guy’s a total jerk; who apparently really hates weddings.”
Steve snorts a little and almost smiles, letting himself lean a little more heavily against Bucky. Bucky slumps into the wall on his left side and takes a second to rearrange his legs to get comfortable, never once asking Steve to move. They end up with Steve’s back against Bucky’s right side, and his feet on the nightstand so he can support his notepad, while Bucky crowds himself into the corner he stuffs with pillows. It’s shockingly comfortable and familiar, even now.
They’re quiet for a while, just keeping one another company as a cold November rain lashes against the window. Steve can feel Bucky’s eyes looking over his shoulder at the drawing Steve’s creating; this time a simple rose. “Ya know,” Bucky’s low voice says in Steve’s ear. “If there’s somethin’ on your mind, you can talk to me.”
“I know, Buck.” Steve says quietly. Bucky dog-ears his page and tosses his book down further on the bed, waiting for Steve to spill it. It was a familiar scene; Steve refusing to talk insisting that he was just fine, when Bucky always knew that he wasn’t. “I just wish I knew what I did wrong.”
“Maybe you didn’t do anything wrong at all?” Bucky offers. “Natalia’s not like most of the women around here, you know that.”
Steve shrugs. “Doesn’t mean she’s incapable of letting someone love her.”
Bucky drags his left hand through his still overgrown hair, pushing it off his face. “I dunno about that.”
“I mean, think about it this way; she kept coming around to check on me after I woke up a few years ago. She always took me out and showed me around, to keep my mind off…” you. Steve finishes silently, swallowing thickly. “Natasha suggested the tattoo, took me to go get it. She came onto me that night, she didn’t say stop. She kept coming over… Coming back for more.” He heaves a sigh and tips his head back against Bucky’s flesh shoulder, eyes gazing lifelessly up at the ceiling. “What was I supposed to think it was? I’m not the kind of person who just sleeps around like that.
What if I was wrong about the whole thing? I don’t think I should have ended it because she didn’t like sleeping here. I mean, I DO see where she’s coming from; I do tend to get warm, and I can see that being an issue. Do you think I overreacted? I guess I could have just, maybe, not have said what I did. And now that I really think about it, I did come on a little strong…”
“Stevie, listen.” Bucky says, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Times aren’t as simple as they were when we were teenagers. People’s intentions aren’t cut and dry like they used to be. Dames don’t just settle these days like they used to.”
Steve huffs. “Yeah, yeah…” He mutters, going back to his sketch. “But just because she doesn’t want to settle down now, doesn’t mean she can’t change her mind.”
Bucky sighs and laughs lowly, it’s a sound that vibrates through his entire body, sending a tingle down Steve’s spine. It’s a pleasant feeling, one that sends a tiny smile to his lips. It’s been so many years since he heard that laugh; that deep, fond sound that always made Steve feel at home. “Listen to me,” Bucky is saying, when Steve clues back in. “You guys might be in the same line of work, might know the same people, run on the same team, but that don’t mean it’s a one-hundred-percent done deal. Yeah she’s a knockout, and sounds like a wild one between the sheets, but she ain’t the only fish in the sea.” Bucky shoves at him a bit and Steve sits up so Bucky can lie down on his bed properly. “Point is, don’t force something that ain’t gonna happen. Natalia’s great and all, and don’t get me wrong, I like her well enough, but she don’t treat you right. You can do better than her, Stevie. And the way I saw you two together… I dunno. I don’t think it’s meant to be.”
“No?” Steve asks, looking down at Bucky with a quirked eyebrow. Steve had heard Bucky and Natasha’s heated discussion the last night they spent together, heard the way Bucky’s voice had dropped to that threatening tone he didn’t use anymore. He’d listened as Bucky threatened Natasha’s life if she didn’t stop stringing Steve along. Of course, he’d never tell Bucky he heard the full conversation, including Natasha’s accusation of Bucky being the one in love with Steve. It had become clear to Steve in that moment how Bucky really felt about her, so why his friend was being so polite on the issue now is beyond him.
Trying to spare your already so badly wounded feelings. That voice in the back of his head quips. He’s still trying to look out for you. Just play stupid and let someone take care of you, dumbass.
“Nah.” Bucky replies. “I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over someone like her. You’ll find someone else… Trust me.” He smiles, but Steve can see that it never reaches his eyes and Bucky reaches across the mattress to flip his lamp off. “Just lie down and go to sleep.” He turns over onto his side and buries his face into a pillow.
Steve chuckles under his breath and shifts down the mattress so he can stretch out on his back, one hand tucked under his head and the other on his chest. “Jerk.” Steve says, though not without fondness.
“Punk.” Comes the expected, though muffled reply.
It falls silent in the room for a while, and all Steve can hear is the soft way Bucky breathes. Having his friend back was an amazing thing. Despite the nearly seventy-five year gap they’d lost, and the fact it had taken the better part of another year before Bucky had really come back into his own, now that he was here, Steve felt like they hadn’t skipped a single beat. They still talked to one another the same as they had. Bucky still did everything in his power to look out for Steve. And Steve, well, he still took care of Bucky in his own way. “Thanks, Buck.” Steve says, turning to look in Bucky’s direction in the dark.
“You’ve done this and more for me. It’s the lease I could do.” Bucky replies.
Steve smiles a little bit again, and closes his eyes. He feels better, having gotten some of his frustration off his chest. He still doesn’t feel great, and his heart still hurts, but it’s not nearly so bad anymore. He credits that to the familiarity of the situation; sprawled out on his back beside his best friend, in a comfortable silence that seems to exude peace and companionship.
It was never like this with Natasha. His conscience says. It was always ‘Am I good enough?’, ‘did I please her?’, ‘is she going to be here in the morning?’ You spent more time worrying about the relationship — or the lack thereof — than actually enjoying it. Maybe if you’d stop being so fucking stubborn, and admit that you have feelings for — or dare I say that you actually love — Bucky, you could really be happy for once in your life? You’ve seen the change in today’s world, it’s not like it was in the 30’s. Men walk down the streets hand-in-hand every day. There’s nothing wrong with it now. Love is love. Who cares what gender? If you love him, tell him.
He sighs again and blinks into the darkness, wishing he could take his own advice. Steve doesn’t fall asleep that night, his heart still too heavy and uncomfortable in his chest to do so. He waits until Bucky wakes up before getting out of bed, like they used to do. Steve had always been a morning person, and Bucky most certainly was not. Some things never change. Steve thinks, looking at Bucky’s alarm clock for the tenth time. Red numbers flash eleven-am, and Bucky is still snoring away.
Bucky is turned on his other side by now, facing Steve, both hands tucked under his pillow, strands of dark hair falling into his closed eyes. His lips are parted a little bit, and sometimes twitch into a partial smile like he was dreaming something good — a far cry from the last time Steve spent the night in Bucky’s room, cradling the other in his arms as he shook from head to toe, silently sobbing into Steve’s shoulder. He looks so relaxed and peaceful that Steve can’t help but smile at the sight before him.
Those eyes open slowly, blinking several times before he comes into focus with Steve. “Whattimeisit?” Bucky slurs, right hand rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Going for eleven.” Steve replies.
Bucky groans and sits up. “Thought you had something to do today?”
Steve just shrugs. “Not really.” He says, getting up so Bucky can get out of his own bed.
“You sleep?”
Steve just shakes his head and heads out of the room. He already knows the concerned look that Bucky is giving him as he walks away, and it isn’t something he wants to deal with right now. So he moves down the hall to his own room to get dressed and at least look presentable in the event that someone decided to visit. He settles for something casual — just a pair of soft, well-worn jeans and a white t-shirt — and goes about his new daily routine since coming to Stark Tower: Breakfast with plenty of coffee followed by sitting at the kitchen table with a book or sketchpad to keep his thoughts from the mess that is his own jumble of emotions.
But today, Bucky joins him. Sitting quietly through breakfast and even reading over some training files that Tony had given him after they eat. His presence is enough to keep Steve at ease, while somehow, agitating him beyond belief. Steve can feel Bucky’s gaze on him from time to time and glances up occasionally, silently asking what the problem was. But Bucky just shakes his head and turns back to his own work.
It’s nearing four when their apartment door slides open and Pepper strolls in, arms loaded down with various things. She balances three cups of coffee on a stack of folders that sits on a tablet in one hand, while carrying four suit-bags, and three more shopping bags from various stores in the other. Bucky immediately gets to his feet to take the coffee from her hands to lay it on the table. “Thanks, James.” The woman says with a pleasant smile. “Tony asked me to tell you that he needs you in his workshop ASAP. Something about a new chip? Whatever that means.” She shrugs and sets the files down, before hanging the suit bags over the back of one of the dining room table’s chairs. “And you,” She says, fixing Steve with a look that made his ears blush. “I need to borrow for a little while.”
Steve quirks an eyebrow as Pepper hands him a coffee — a triple, extra hot caramel latte to be exact, his favourite — and settles herself into Bucky’s now vacant seat. “What do you need me for?” He asks.
"You need a new suit.” She replies, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Bucky laughs and takes the remaining coffee for himself. “I’ll be with Tony, then.” He says, heading for the elevator.
“You’re next, Barnes!” Pepper calls after him, as he slides into the elevator. She sighs with a smile and fixes Steve with a different look. “How’ve you been, Steve? We haven’t seen much of you.”
Steve shrugs. “I’m… Alive.” He replies after a minute, not really knowing how to answer the question without sounding like he was complaining.
The woman frowns a little bit, sipping her coffee thoughtfully. “I heard about you and Natasha.” She explains. “It’s never easy, especially not when you get attached like that.”
He shrugs again and takes a breath. “I’m ok, really. I suppose even I’m not above getting my heart broken. Too bad it doesn’t heal as fast as the rest of me does.”
“We’ll see about that.” Pepper replies, picking up the first suit bag. “Try this on.” She says, passing it over. Pepper digs through one of the shopping bags at her feet and pulls out a soft, black dress shirt and a deep red tie to go with it and sends Steve off with a smile. Steve heads off to his room and changes onto the grey suit, pairing it with whatever Pepper had given him. He goes back to where she sits and lets her look him over. “So what seems to be troubling you?” She asks while smoothing the shoulders of the suit’s jacket out a little.
“Nothing, really.” Steve explains. Pepper raises an eyebrow at him and he remembers that she deals with Tony Stark, so she knows a lie when she hears one. “I just wish I understood what happened.”
Pepper adjusts his tie a little bit; tugging at the cuffs of his jacket to make sure it fits properly. “Maybe it was just bad timing on both your behalves?” She offers. Steve watches as she scrunches up her nose and passes him another suit with a burgundy shirt, and a black and silver tie. “I mean, it happened so suddenly with you guys. Maybe it just didn’t happen at the right time.” Pepper says, while Steve is in his bedroom, unbuttoning his current shirt. He places the first outfit neatly on his bed and starts to put the other on. “Just take some time apart. Sometimes that’s what we need to see what we’re missing.”
Steve pouts a little as he buttons the cuffs on his dress shirt. “Does that actually work?” He calls back, while draping the tie around his neck, tying it neatly.
“Maybe about forty percent of the time.” She calls back. Steve hears the honest, though lightly sarcastic tone in her voice and rolls his eyes. He shrugs on the second jacket to the black suit he’s been asked to try on and does up the single button before walking out into the kitchen. Pepper looks him over and hums thoughtfully, biting down on a thumbnail. “No, don’t like this one so much. Take it off and try this one.” She passes him another suit and ushers him back off to his room to change.
Changing for a third time — this time into a navy three-piece suit and lighter blue, checkered print dress shirt — Steve sighs. “Ok, so I give her space, and then what? Just wait for her to come back around?” He asks from the bedroom. He tucks in the tails of his shirt and heads back to the kitchen. “Or do I make some kind of move?”
Pepper smirks up at him as she admires the suit on him for a moment. “Are you asking me for dating advice, Steve?” She chides.
“Like I have another option.” He replies with a small smirk.
She laughs and stars to make adjustments to his tie. “Well, if I were you, I’d sit back and let Natasha realize what a wonderful, handsome man she’s passing up.” Pepper offers him a warm, caring smile as she pats his shoulder and passes him the last suit, which she pairs with a plain white shirt and black bow tie. Steve heads off to change once again and finds himself wondering what the suit is for anyway, but Pepper is rather tight lipped on the subject, so he can only assume that it’s for one of Stark Industries many fundraiser parties. “How’s James doing? I heard something about him going in the field soon.”
Steve can’t help but beam with pride at his own reflection in the mirror as he buttons his shirt and tucks it into his pants. “He’s doing really well. Sam’s gotten him to leave the tower a lot more than he used to, just doing little things like walking around central park, or going to a movie. But the hypnosis thing seems to be working for him the best.” He explains, while attempting to figure out the contraption that was a bow tie. “Bucky did have a pretty nasty session a few weeks ago that left him pretty upset. He won’t tell me what happened, but he’s coming around again.” Unable to figure the bow tie out, he strolls back out to the kitchen where Pepper ties it properly for him without question. “Tony’s not against sending him on the next minor mission that crops up. So I take it that’s a good sign.”
Pepper smiles knowingly. “It most certainly is.” She says while smoothing out the lapels of his jacket. “Has he started to be more like he used to be?”
“A little bit.” Steve answers honestly. “He’s coming around, but he’s still got his bad days. He doesn’t sleep much and it worries me sometimes. I mean, if he’s going back in the field and ends up passing out from exhaustion like he tends to do, someone’s going to end up hurt.” Pepper looks over his suit again, and scrunches up her nose. “What?”
“The grey one looked the best, I think.” Pepper says with a satisfied smile. “Go change and give it back to me, I’ll get it tailored properly.” Steve heads off again and puts his jeans and t-shirt before packing all the suits neatly back in their bags, the matching shirts and ties on the hangers with the rest. “Anyway, James…” She reminds Steve, who’d gotten off track.
Steve smiled a little. “Yeah, he’s…” Steve falters, gathering up the suits and making his way down the hall. “It’s just good to have him back.”
Pepper takes the bags and lays them on the couch before sitting back down at the table, nodding towards Steve’s forgotten coffee. “You really missed him, didn’t you?”
Nodding, Steve takes a sip from his drink, that still sits on the table. “It was like losing a limb.” He starts, remembering the hollowness he’d felt for so long after he’d woken up. “Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky, and that was good enough for me. He’s my best friend, the only one I ever really had back then… Until the Howling Commandos came to be. But before that, we were all the other had. And when he died…” Steve’s voice trailed off, remembering sitting in a ruined bar, trying to drink himself into a stupor while a different pretty woman told him that his friend wouldn’t want him to suffer like this. But that was a task easier said than done. Pepper sits across the table, waiting patiently for him to continue. It wasn’t often that Steve did things like this, but if he did, Pepper was usually the one who listened. “You know, I had this feeling not long after Bucky came back. I was sitting in his room in the med ward, watching over him, and thought; ‘If he hadn’t fallen off that train, if he never died, I would have found some way to land that aircraft instead of just sacrificing myself like I did’ ya know?”
The woman nods once. “You felt like with him gone, you had nothing left to live for.” She says, reading Steve like a book.
“When you say it like that, it sounds selfish and it probably is, but honestly… If Bucky was alive then, I never would have done what I did. I don’t know how Peggy let me go off on that aircraft with my mind as clouded as it was. Obviously I was going to do something stupid.”
Pepper arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Something stupid that saved millions of lives, Steve.”
Steve fixes her with an exasperated look, running his hand through his hair. “I know, Pepper. I’m not saying I’m not glad I did it. I just wish…” He cuts himself off with a sigh, thinking about the last letter he’d written to Bucky before shipping out himself. A letter that to this day still sits sealed, at the bottom of his World War II issue trunk resting at the foot of his bed, beside an older photo album.
“What?” Pepper asks, cocking her head to the side curiously.
“Nevermind.” Steve says. “Either way, it’s a miracle that I have him back”
Pepper watches him quietly for a minute, a smile toying with her lips. Steve feels like she’s trying to burrow into his brain and pick it apart. “I think I get it.” She says quietly.
“Get what?”
She sips her coffee and leans against the table with her elbows. “You’ll have to forgive me if I sound presumptuous, but it sounds to me like this whole thing with Natasha was just a projection of your true feelings for James.”
Steve’s jaw almost hits the table as he stares back at her. “Excuse me?”
Pepper fixes him with a look that tells him to shut up, so he does. “You two were friends for your entire lives, closer than brothers; everyone knows that. Then you lost him.” Her eyes are sad for a second as she speaks. “So when you were brought back, you attached yourself to the first person who tried to get close to you like James was. And then, when Natasha eventually wanted to explore the option of a sexual relationship —“ Steve flushes hotly at the mention of his sex life and he looks at his hands in his lap. “Oh stop it; we all knew what was going on there. Anyway, when you slept with her, those previously unrequited feelings for James were projected onto someone who wanted you in return. What I’m trying to say is; James left a void in your heart when he died. And when Natasha came along, you tried to somehow use her to fill that void, knowing full well that it wouldn’t work because she wasn’t him.”
He sighs and buries his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve hidden that for what, eighty-five years now? And you take one look at me and figure it out.” He says, laughing humourlessly into his palms.
“It’s what I do.” Pepper replies,
Steve drags his hands down his face and leans back in the kitchen chair. “It was just a stupid crush.”
“Was it?”
“Thats all it could be back then.”
Pepper raises an eyebrow again and gives him a pretty little half smile. “So what about now?”
Steve scoffs and shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Bucky’d never… I mean he always had a different date… And he always tried to get me to go out with girls…” Steve shakes his head. “This is foolish. He’s in no fit state to know what he wants — who he wants.”
She shrugs lightly. “Maybe, maybe not; did you ever tell him how you felt?”
“Never.” Steve replies flatly. “He couldn’t know; I didn’t want to push him away or weird him out with it.”
“I don’t think you could push James away if you tried, Steve.” Pepper smiles warmly again and gets up from the table. “Keep in mind that you live in a new world. You may be old fashioned, but not everyone out there is these days.” She comes over to him and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. “Cheer up. Everything’s going to work out in the end.” Steve watches in silence as she gathers up the suits and her shopping bags and then leaves him to think about everything that was said.
She had been right in saying that Steve had projected his feeling for Bucky onto Natasha; and it was something he hated himself a little for doing. He’d been kidding himself when he thought that maybe this woman could fill the hole Bucky left. But he still found himself thinking that his feelings for Natasha weren’t all false. If they were, why does losing her hurt like this? You’d think that I’d be happy with it, because it left me free to try things with Bucky.
Still, the thought of telling Bucky about the things he feels seems… Terrifying. Bucky was hardly back in his own mind long enough to deal with the fact that his best friend has been in love with him for longer than he can remember. Steve feels that if he did approach the topic, that rejection was imminent. Rejection was not something he’d deal well with now, especially not so soon after Natasha.
He paces the apartment for a while, looking for something to do. The dishes have been done already, dried and even put away. He swept the floors the other day, and the rest of the apartment was immaculate. Military training has caused both Steve and Bucky to be incessant neat-freaks like that. He feels restless, in no mood to draw or read, and unable to keep still. He’s on edge, too much energy. Steve keeps pacing aimlessly and looking out the window from time to time, watching the busy city streets below.
Eventually, he can take no more and heads off to his room to change into a pair of track pants and a gym shirt. Maybe if I go a few rounds with a heavy bag and throw the shield around a little, I’ll settle back down. He thinks, grabbing his gym bag and shield from its place beside the elevator doors. It’s been almost too long since he’d bothered to do any target practice with it, and missions were few and far between, now that S.H.E.I.L.D had all but dissolved. Steve presses the call button and the doors slide open. “Jarvis?” Steve asks, as he hits the button that will take him to the gym.
“Captain Rogers, what a pleasant surprise.” The A.I responds. Sometimes Steve forgets it’s just a computer program, because it talks to him like a person.
“Can you tell me who’s in the gym right now?” He asks.
“The only person present is Sam Wilson, Captain.”
It’s somewhat displeasing to hear that the gym isn’t empty, but he shrugs it off. Sam is a good friend, and doesn’t often push him to talking if Steve doesn’t feel like it. But even as the doors slide open, Steve feels the overwhelming urge to erect a protective emotional wall. The past few hours have been mentally draining enough as it was. What with his conversation with Bucky last night and the way Pepper had just broken him down again with no more than a glance. Steve takes a breath and steps into the gym, eyes scanning the large, open room. He finds Sam sitting at the leg press machine, sweating up a storm and grunting with the strain. “Don’t you ever go home?” Steve teases as he walks over.
“Well, well, well, look who decided to leave his tower.” Sam taunts in reply, grinning broadly. The Falcon sits up right and wipes his face down with a towel that sits at his left. “I was starting to think your super-soldier serum was wearing off and I’d have to take up your shield. How’ve you been?”
Steve shrugs and sets his bag and shield on the floor, digging through the former to find his hand wraps. “Just fine.” He replies, doing his best to keep his tone neutral.
He can already feel the way Sam looks him over, watching for any sign of hesitation. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Steve says.
“So you shutting yourself up in that tower is for no real reason then?”
Steve looks up to see concerned brown eyes peering back at him. “What can I say?” Steve starts. “Even I’m not immune to a bad mood from time to time. Can’t a guy just want to be left alone for a while?”
Sam holds his hands up in surrender and gets up from the machine. “Come spot me a minute.” He says, leading Steve towards the weight bench. Steve helps him balance the weights on either end of the long metal bar, then waits for Sam to get in position before lifting the bar off its stand and letting Sam take its full weight.
“Got it?” Steve asks, before he lets go. Sam just nods, bending his elbows to slowly let the bar come down to his chest, then lifting it back up with some effort. “Pepper get on your case about a new suit?” Steve asks, diverting the conversation from himself.
The other man laughs. “Yeah, she cornered me yesterday when I was bringing James back from group.” He clenches his teeth, lifting the weights again. “Had a real nice black one lined up for me too.”
Steve smirks. That was Pepper, always thinking ahead. “What’s it for anyway? She wouldn’t tell me.”
“I guess Stark’s throwing another Christmas fundraiser. You know how he gets this time of year.” Sam replies, and Steve does know. Tony tended to get even more generous than normal near Christmas, especially when it came to children. So every Christmas, Tony would throw a massive fundraiser; five-hundred-dollar plates at dinner, full service bar and of course The Avengers. Steve hates having to make appearances at these things, but if it was going to a good cause — Like one of Tony’s many charities benefiting sick children — He’d suck it up and deal with it. Steve sees a little too much strain on his friend’s face and takes the bar from his grip, and sets it back in the stand. Sam sits up, a little breathless and wipes his hands down again. “I guess we’re all expected to make an appearance.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Likely.”
“So, you gonna go?” Sam asks, before lying back down for another few reps.
“Maybe, I mean, if I’m expected to be there I’ll show up, but I won’t stay late. Don’t want to be the only one flying solo.” Steve shrugs.
Sam looks up at him from the bench, eyes searching Steve’s face again as he lifts the weight off his chest. “Who says you have to go solo?” He asks. “You always got me!” Sam smirks and Steve can’t help but laugh lightly at that.
“Well the woman that I was seeing is no longer seeing me, so…” He rolls his eyes pointedly and huffs. “Haven’t been on a proper date with anyone aside from Nat in what, two years? And I don’t see myself finding someone else any time soon.”
The other man hoists the weight several more times in silence before groaning under the strain, at which point Steve helps him set the bar back again. Asking “What are your thoughts on a blind date?” as he sits up once more.
“Oh really, Sam?” Steve laughs, exasperated. “You honestly think that’ll work.” He waves a hand and leads Sam towards the punching bags. “It never worked when Bucky used to try it back in the forties. Why in the hell would it work now?”
“Because one; you aren’t a runt anymore, and I’m sure you have a whole hoard of women to choose from.” Sam tells him with a sly smile. Steve quirks an eyebrow and wraps his hands with the soft cotton wraps he takes from his pocket. “Two; this isn’t 1941 anymore, and dating isn’t preparation for marriage.” Sam stands behind the heavy bag and holds it in place as Steve takes a few swings. “And three; I have a feeling I know someone who’s pretty interested in you.”
Steve almost stumbles as Sam finishes speaking. “Someone who’s interested in me ‘Steve Rogers’, or me, ‘Captain America’?” He asks sarcastically, and he throws another couple of jabs. “Because I’m getting tired of just being the suit.”
Sam fixes him with a look from around the punching bag and smirks. “I have a feeling it’s more than just a publicity based attraction.” He replies, raising an eyebrow. Steve can tell that Sam is just bursting to set something up, much like the rest of The Avengers are. It amuses him to see how invested the entire team is on getting him a date. Tony always teases him, saying that even Thor has a lady friend on earth, which to Steve, is entirely unsurprising. He had hoped that Sam wasn’t going to jump on the bandwagon with the rest, but it seemed to him then, that indeed Sam was.
“Alright, fine.” Steve groans, feeling Sam’s eyes on him. “Go on then, tell me about her.”
The Falcon thinks for a moment, still holding the punching bag in place as Steve assaults it with several manoeuvres that involve his feet and knees. “Dark hair, blue eyes, pretty, in great shape too; even served overseas for a while, so you’ll have something to talk about.”
Steve rolls his eyes at the vague description of the girl he’s supposed to be taking out, and laughs. “Is that all I’m getting?”
“You’re lucky you got that much.” Sam laughs in reply.
The pair trains for a couple hours, working on some hand-to-hand combat manoeuvres before Steve heads of to the shooting range. Tony had created a special course for Steve not too long ago; a room filled with various objects for Steve to bounce his shield off of, to practice his ability to catch the spinning piece of vibranium. He spends the majority of the evening in there, hurling the shield at walls and beams, figuring out which angles would work best for him. But soon he tires of that; it tends to be more entertaining when Bucky is there to hurl it back at him, or to serve as a moving target, so he heads back to the apartment.
As much as he wants to be alone, he hates it. He hates when the apartment is empty and dark when he gets back, when he know for sure that Bucky isn’t there. He hates not having someone to talk to when he gets lonely, when the walls of his room seem to press in on him so much that it feels like he’s suffocating. Sure, Sam was there, and so was Pepper, but it wasn’t the same. They weren’t Bucky. They didn’t understand him the say way Bucky did; and knowing that fact made his heart contract in his chest.
This really has to stop. Steve thinks as he sits down on the couch, sketch book propped open in his lap. I couldn’t tell him back then because it was not safe. I can’t tell him now because he wouldn’t even know how to react to it. It’s not a good time. There’s never going to be a good time, so I need to just drop it for good.
His hand moves idly across the page. He hardly pays attention to his drawing, not noticing that the way the pencil forms the shapes of two faces joined at the lips, the hand of one figure cupping the other’s cheek in a sweet, affectionate way. The eyes of both are closed, long lashes dusting the cheeks of either face, but even so, the smile and contentedness is plain on their expressions. He’s adding waves of dark hair across one’s neck and ears, falling to where the shoulders would be as his eyes start growing heavy. Steve hasn’t slept in days, and it’s catching up with him. So he kicks his feet up onto the couch and rests his head against the armrest of the couch, knees bent up to support his sketch book.
Steve keeps drawing, focusing on the dark haired figure, leaving the other one so roughly sketched; it’s hard to see if it’s a man or woman. Light stubble graces the dark figure’s cheeks, and slight lines crease at the corners of its eyes. The more Steve adds to it, the more it starts to resemble Bucky and he scarcely notices. By now his eyes are drooping and it becomes hard to focus. It takes no time before he falls asleep with his pencil in hand and his sketchbook still propped up on his knees.