Chapter Text
“ACTION!”
Bucky watched the monitor with rapt attention as the two actors he’d had in his chair for 4 hours that morning began their meticulously choreographed stunt scene. The more he saw during the shot, the faster he could fix it for the next take. He winced when Tessa Thompson missed the last beat, resulting in a fat glob of Red Drum brand fake blood dripping down Henry Cavill’s cheek onto his neck and subsequently smearing into the neckline of his costume. Bucky huffed under his breath, pouting a little. Of course.
“And CUT! Reset, we need to take that again. Tess, don’t fuck it up this time!” Peter Jackson shouted loud enough to get a flinch out of Veronica, where she stood at Bucky’s side, ready to step in and handle Tessa’s touch-ups while he fixed the mess that Henry had become with Georgie from Costumes.
“I need 15 for makeup!” He shouted in the direction of the 1st AD while he and Georgie shot forward to get to Henry.
“You have 10!” Kay shouted back.
Bucky rolled his eyes but picked up his pace. Red Drum, his favorite brand of fake blood, not only stained clothes, but skin, too. Thank god he was good at his job and always came to set with his bag perfectly packed, which on a day with blood effects, meant an entire can of shaving cream. He pulled it out and sprayed it into a makeup wipe, going right to Henry’s neck and rubbing as quickly and gently as he could. “Henry, you are just determined to make this day tough on me, aren’t you?” He smirked with a small chuckle.
“Uhh, sorry, Buckaroo,” Henry muttered with a shit-eating grin. “It wasn’t my fault! Tess’ the one who did a taco instead of a flat back.”
“Hey! You almost made me break, you ass! You distracted me!” Tessa said, laughing.
Bucky smiled despite himself. “Georgie, is the blood coming out of his neckline?”
Georgie tsked and smiled just a little. “Yeah, we got to it just in time. Before it dried.”
“2 minutes left, Bucky! Let’s GO!” Kay hollered. Bucky grimaced but shook it off. He was pretty sure Kay only had two volume levels, one for screaming orders and one for speaking to the director.
Bucky stepped back with a quick reminder for the actors to take care of their faces. “That’s my art, and unless you want to spend your lunch breaks in my chair, do better!” He settled in for the next take.
He was exhausted. Long days on set were always exhausting, but this was his first feature film, and even more importantly, his first project as a Key Artist. That meant more responsibility, more stress, and a significant drop in sleep. He glanced down at his watch, surprised to find he was about to roll into golden time, where he would be paid double time for any work past 12 hours. He’d been on set for 11 hours and 45 minutes already and, at wrap, he’d been asked to stay for a quick production meeting with all department heads and key personnel. He closed his eyes and rubbed the palms of his hands over them until he started to see stars in the black void behind his eyelids. Okay. Only about... 5 more hours then. He could handle that.
“Quiet on set!”
He was startled when Veronica elbowed him. He looked over, and saw her signing, ‘Are you okay?’ He let out a breath, shook his head a bit, and signed back, ‘Never better,’ with a smile. He could tell she wanted to ask more, but with a take rolling and quiet on set called, there wasn’t much more she could push. He looked over to the monitor again, blinked a few times, and shook his head to wake his brain, and his eyes, up enough.
“Rolling.”
“Sound speeds!”
“ACTION!”
---------------
Bucky collapsed into the chair that his department head Natalie brought over to him after they called Day Wrap. Veronica had taken both Henry and Tessa to the Hair & Makeup room to get their blood and cuts and other miscellaneous injuries removed and the room cleaned and sanitized before they could all go home. Normally, Bucky would be spearheading that effort, as a part of his Key Artist duties, but when there were production meetings, he got to sit and be the least responsible artist for a few moments.
“Alright, thanks for staying late everyone,” Kay started, quieter than Bucky had ever heard her before. He couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows with a soft snort. Natalie gave him a sharp look but was clearly trying not to laugh too, so he covered it up with a cough. He hoped it was a successful obfuscation...
He turned back to Kay and went red to his ears upon finding her staring at him with both eyebrows raised. He coughed again and furrowed his brow, his body responding to the discomfort by shifting slightly in his seat. Kay looked away with the ghost of a smile on her face. Bucky looked over to Natalie and glared at her while she snickered and tried to keep a straight face.
“Okay, so look. We needed to keep you all here so we can discuss the celebrity part that’s shooting starting next week.”
“Does that mean they finally cast it, then?” someone asked from the other side of the group. Bucky thought it was the set designer. Or the head of the art department. He was so tired he couldn’t remember for sure.
Kay smiled, more genuine than Bucky had ever seen her be. “They did. It’s a little sensitive, though.”
The air shifted. No one said anything, but between her demeanor and her tone of voice, Bucky deduced that ‘sensitive’ probably wasn’t the right word. Bucky looked over at Natalie, who was staring right at him. She was sporting a slightly wild grin, and Bucky shuddered, confused, before looking away. This was weird. This was the entertainment industry—‘showbiz’. They were making a multi-million dollar feature film starring A-list actors with a major action director attached. Honestly, there were not many situations Bucky could think of that would warrant such bizarre and unconventional handling.
Kay stopped, took a deep breath, and scrubbed her hands over her face. Bucky noticed the dark circles under her eyes and wondered how much pressure it must have taken to physically—and mentally—wear down the strongest person he knew. He didn’t have to like her (and he sure didn’t), but he couldn’t help his admiration for her. She got shit done. Problems were just puzzles for her; a very specific skill set commonly found in assistant directors. Bucky shook himself out of a galaxy brain moment just in time to tune back into Kay as she continued.
“Er, sensitive isn’t really…” She sighed, long and loud. Bucky lightly kicked Natalie’s ankle to get her attention, then signed to her, ‘What the hell is going on?’ He was met with a wink and nothing else. He flipped her the bird, rolled his eyes, and turned back to look at Kay, just in time to see her look up, shake her head in apparent disbelief, and mutter, “They’ve cast Steve Rogers.”
The stage went dead silent. Which—in a hundred-year-old soundstage that could hold a lake of water (literally, if you removed the cresform covering the tank hidden under their feet, which they would for upcoming scenes)—was exceedingly creepy. The majority of the group stared, jaws dropped, at Kay.
For Bucky’s part, he couldn’t stop cackling. He didn’t even know why it was funny. Everyone turned to look at him, which he noticed. Bucky calmed down enough for someone he couldn’t see to ask a relevant and helpful question, “Uhhhh... does Steve Rogers know that?”
Bucky doubled over.
---------------
“Why’s it such a big deal, anyway?” Veronica asked while driving Natalie, Bucky, and herself home. This was one of the few times Bucky wishes they hadn’t carpooled. He’d gotten on set at 4 am that morning, and they’d just now left at 10 pm. Thank god he didn’t have to work this weekend. Once Bucky had finally calmed down enough and been able to stop laughing, he’d sort of hit a wall. One where nothing was very funny, even if this had the possibility of being the best week of his entire life.
“What? The fact that Steve Rogers was cast in this part, which is no small part, might I add? Or the fact that Kay told everyone if they weren’t on their best behavior she’d string us off the studio water tower?” Natalie chuckled.
“...Any of it? All of it? I just don’t get why everyone is so wigged out about it….”
“Bucky? Care to share? You are the expert, aren’t you?” Natalie snickered, closing her eyes and tilting her head back on the seatrest.
Bucky rolled his eyes but sat up a little more, rubbing his temple to try and preemptively alleviate the headache he could feel coming on the longer he thought about this. His conspiracy theory phase from college got him good enough that his best friend would never let it go. In fairness, he never really let it go either. There were just too many rabbit holes to fall down, and he had an addictive personality. Come on. “Oh my god, Veronica, how old ARE you anyway? After the Blip, Steve basically disappeared. No one knows for sure where he’d gone, really. There were rumors, of course. Some people believe he was on a secret mission on the moon, others that he was just plain dead. I even read a really insane, and totally out of left field, theory on Reddit that when he went back to return the Infinity Stones in time, he stayed behind and tried to have a normal life with Peggy Carter,” Bucky scoffs and Natalie guffaws. “And, most of the Avengers had to give their statements after the battle at the Avenger’s Compound, so that sparked even more suspicion. All we know for sure is that he passed the Captain America shield on to Sam Wilson after Tony Stark recovered enough to leave the hospital, refused to do any interviews or public appearances, and now, I guess… he’s back.”
“And about to be in a movie, no less,” Natalie giggled.
Veronica was quiet for a minute. Bucky closed his eyes and laid his head on Natalie’s shoulder, hoping they were done but knowing Veronica well enough to know they weren’t. “Bucky, where do you think he was?”
Bucky sighed. “Not fucking dancing with Peggy fucking Carter in 19-fucking-43.”
Natalie let out a loud cackle and then a long sigh. It was quiet in the car for several minutes before she spoke again. “Wherever he was, for whatever reason, he’s back… I hope he’s okay. He carried the weight of half the world.”
“They all did.” Veronica softly added.
---------------
Sunday night found Bucky cleaning and repacking his kit, reading over the script breakdowns he completed the week prior that Natalie and Kay had approved, planning his outfits (with maybe a little more care than he typically took), and otherwise prepping for the week ahead of him on set, per his usual routine.
He danced around his apartment with his favorite pair of socks on. They looked like dragons, with wings and tails and everything. ‘Montero (Call me By Your Name)’ by Lil Nas X was blaring in the background. He had on his favorite boxers that had little Captain America shields all over them and a slice of pepperoni pizza in his right hand. He gathered everything he needed with his left hand from where it had all been haphazardly spread across his larger-than-average studio apartment in WeHo, despite his best and sincerest efforts to stay tidy and organized.
What was not normal, was the electric current of pure adrenaline coursing through him. It didn’t even make sense, why was he so...nervous? Excited?
It did make sense on paper. Bucky’d spent a solid 2 years closely following the underground Captain America conspiracy theory message boards. Embarrassingly, he was even a moderator in multiple groups. Besides, it wasn’t as if it wasn't obvious. He just didn’t know why he couldn't calm down. He just had a feeling something odd would happen tomorrow, and his feelings were typically right when they were production-related.
His phone pinged across the room, so he danced over to it in a little grapevine, singing along to the music’s lyrics, and sat at his small dining room table where his laptop was open to the makeup breakdowns for the next day (sans Rogers), and found that Natalie had texted him. Which was odd. Because she was meant to be on lot earlier than him. And she was not a night person. He tamped down the anxiety that surfaced at the unexpected message.
‘CALL, ASAP!!!’
He swiped into a call without another thought, and Natalie answered on the first ring. “BUCKY!”
He winced, pulling the phone from his ear. “Uh, hi?”
“Bucky, you are not going to believe this. Kay asked me to pull you tomorrow.”
Bucky bolted straight up at that news. “Um, what? Why?” Key artists didn’t get ‘pulled.’ PA’s got pulled. Placed where they needed to be on any given day. It was distressing, his worst nightmare that he would screw something up on his first feature and be fired.
“Okay, hold on, slow down Buck. Shit, maybe I should’ve led with the good news.”
“...G-good news?” Bucky muttered, dejected.
“Uh, yeah, sorry, you’re not in trouble or anything. They just want you to do something else.”
Bucky waited for her to continue. He bristled when she didn't. “Natalie! Then what?”
The line was quiet for too long. “You should guess.”
Bucky scoffed and pulled his phone away from his ear, turning on the speakerphone. He picked up a flannel from the chair next to him that’d been discarded after his excursion to pick up his Doordash order from the front of his building and slid it on and his phone into the pocket. Grabbing his pizza again, he made his way to the kitchen to get a plate. Which had been his intention the whole time. He’d just forgotten. “Tell me or I’m hanging up.”
She snorted, “Oh please, like you’d be able to sleep tonight without knowing.”
Bucky rolled his eyes but ignored the comment. He knew she was right. She didn’t need validation from him. “Ummm, they’re sending a splinter unit to Romania like they’d talked about, and I get to go?”
Natalie sighed. “This is my fault. I should’ve known you’d guess big off the bat. Besides, you know as well as I do if anyone’s going to Romania, it’s you. I certainly can’t, and I don’t trust anyone else.”
Bucky grinned before his next guess. Okay, this game was kind of fun. “They’re pulling me off the film because Henry fell in love with me, and it’s a conflict of interest?”
A harsher snort came through the line this time. “Wow, you must’a had some ego-boosting weekend, man.”
“I don’t know what you expected. My brain jumped to me being fired. I guess you telling me I wasn’t in trouble sent me bouncing back farther than I needed to. So, it’s all your own fault, really.”
“Oh my god. You arrogant little bastard. See if I hire you as my key again…”
Bucky laughed with her this time. They both know she would. She’d been bringing him onto jobs since she got a job at an effects lab, met Ve Neill, got a job on a reality show called “The Masked Singer” that became so popular it flipped in its first season and she got into the union. That was three years ago, and she was already department head of a major feature. Not to mention she’d brought him along to every job she’d gotten since, even if there was no budget or she had no say in hiring, she’d bring him on as an “intern.” So, yeah, she could threaten, but they both knew it was empty, anyway. “So are you gonna tell me, or should I craft another guess?”
“No. I’ll tell you. You suck, ya know. Incorrigible asshole. You have been selected to be Steve Rogers’ shadow for the day. His…assistant...if you will?”
Bucky paused with his pizza two inches from his face. It fell out of his hand. He was actually speechless. “Bullshit, Natalie. You’re lying to me.”
Natalie scoffed. “I am doing no such thing. Just wait ‘til tomorrow then, you’ll see for yourself!”
Bucky stared at the wall of his apartment in disbelief, pepperoni slice abandoned on the counter in front of him. “Oh my god. You’re not shitting me. This is real.”
“Like I just said, YEAH! I wouldn’t fuck with your head, not about Steve Rogers,” she paused, obviously plotting how to best embarrass him, “I know just how much you love him.”
Bucky’s entire face heated up, despite no one being in the room to see it. “I don’t love him! I just. You know. Love ‘im,” he sputtered, hoping he sounded convincing. He could never tell.
“Sure. Uh-huh. Totally.”
“Natalie.”
“Well, anyway. You know how normally celebrities have agents or publicists, you know. It’s the ‘I'll have my people call your people’. That sort of thing.”
“Sure, sure.”
“Well, our darling dear Captain hasn’t been seen in public for five years. He, naturally, doesn’t have anyone. He said he didn’t need one, so he wasn’t going to hire one. So. Kay hired you… for him? I guess?”
“Oh. O-kay? So, I’m not a makeup artist anymore?” He tried not to sound too disappointed, but he wasn’t hired to be a personal assistant.
“Not forever! And you’ll remain Key Artist in title. I’ll still need you to help me with the paperwork at the end of things, probably more so now, because I’ll need to step in for you on the application side. It’s just for the few days that you’ll need to be with him all the time, I promise. Then, once you two have gotten to know each other and trust each other, you’ll exchange phone numbers, and if he needs anything, he can ask you. You can get a PA or something.”
“Natalie, I still don’t understand. Why is Kay doing this? Especially if he already said he doesn’t want to hire someone? I mean isn’t that a little… disrespectful, or something? Shouldn’t she just have PA’s on standby if he needs something?”
“Bucky, no one has seen or heard from this guy in five goddamn years. Everyone’s a little tense, and frankly, no one knows who found him, or how he was actually cast.”
“Wait, what do you mean?”
“I mean, Peter just fucking told Kay before the meeting Friday night. She had no idea, and still doesn’t.”
”Oh, I bet that’s really sending her into a spiral,” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, trying to kick start his brain because it still hadn’t sunk in. He’d been expecting to do makeup on Rogers, fit in a decently substantial conversation here and there, maybe, but not to spend whole days with him.
“Jesus. Like you wouldn’t believe, Buck. Look. I think she just wants to be prepared, and lord knows he’s never worked on a film before. She just wants him to have a nice friendly face that she trusts, who won’t act weird.”
He snorted, “Then why me, Nat?”
She giggled. “Hey, we all know you’re weird, but you have a way with the celebs, babe. You somehow never get starstruck, you have this professional veil that kicks ass. That’s why you. I gotta get to sleep, fuck it’s already 10:30. Wear something cute tomorrow, baby. Something brighter than black, so he can recognize you easily when he needs you.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yes, mom.”
They hung up, and Bucky stared down at his now cold pizza, stomach suddenly making noises, and even the ‘I was threatened’ meme that flashed through his mind didn’t calm him down. What the fuck is happening?
---------------
“‘Morning, Buck!” Veronica chirruped when he walked through the makeup doors on stage at 5:45 am.
Bucky reeled back as if she’d physically hit him. “Fuck. That’s assault. Good morning.”
Veronica smirked a little. “What are you doing here so early anyway? Figured we wouldn’t see you come in until closer to when Steve gets… I mean, your new call time.” To her credit, she corrected herself after taking in the look he threw her.
“Yeah, well. Look, I’m doing this because it’s what’s being asked of me. And, it’s not exactly a hardship, you know? But, I’m beyond stressed out about it. I can barely function this morning. I figured, getting here at my normal time, hovering around the makeup room… maybe it’d calm me down? Make my brain think, ‘My life as I know it isn’t about to change?’”
Natalie and Andi, the Hair Department Head, breezed through the door with plates of the walk-away breakfast provided by crafty. “Baby, you’re being dramatic again.”
“Natalie, I’m serious! I—” Bucky’s hands ran into his hair, sticking it up. He groaned and looked into the mirror. “I was wholly unprepared for this scenario. I mean, how is this even real life?”
“You know,” Andi broke into the conversation, “until, what, twenty years ago? No one knew anything about enhanced beings at all. Captain America was the world’s first superhero, sure, but no one really knew much about his enhancements, besides the obvious. Scientifically and shit, I mean. Or—aliens! No one would’ve even guessed that anything like that was real. Then they ate New York.”
Bucky and Natalie both turned to stare at Andi. “Uh, was that supposed to help me?” Bucky was puzzled.
“I mean, did it?”
“I— Actually. It did, didn’t it? I mean, after the Blip… you’re right, I really don’t think anything would surprise me anymore.”
“Ten bucks says you’re wrong,” Kay announced. Everyone in the room whipped their heads to find her leaning in the doorway, a feral grin decorating her face. Bucky couldn’t help but take a moment to laugh to himself, because she looked a bit like an angry kitten.
“You know...You’re on,” Bucky said, smiling at her.
She stared at him for a second, the grin mostly intact. “Come here. We should go over a few things real quick.”
Bucky sighed and turned back to the mirror, quickly combing his hair back into his favorite sexy, messy style with his fingers. He took a quick but deep breath, then swiftly followed Kay out the door where they began working their way through the sets on the stage to get to the elephant door. It was open, allowing sun and warm air to come in amidst the hustle and bustle of various crew members moving through it carrying chairs, lighting fixtures, ropes, and—a cake? Huh, that was new. He could really go for some cake right now.
“Bucky.”
Kay’s voice, softer and more patient than he’d ever heard it before, brought him out of the clouds in his head, back down to earth. “Sorry,” he offered, brows furrowing together, lips twitching up at one corner. She stared at him.
“You know, I wouldn’t have picked you for this if I didn’t think you were right for it.”
Bucky felt the tension leave his body. At least, some of it. For the first time since meeting her, he decided to lay all of his cards out on the table. “Kay, I have no goddamn idea why you think I’m capable of this. I don’t know the first fucking thing about being an assistant, or what an actor might need. Shit, especially someone as important as Captain Steve Fucking Rogers for fuck’s sake!” He frantically whimpered.
She frowned a little. Bucky didn’t know what that meant. He waited, eyes downcast, while she thought for a moment.
“You know, Bucky, I don’t really think you give yourself enough credit for your strengths.” Bucky looked up, wary. “You’re the right person for this because you don’t have that experience.”
“I—what?” Bucky whispered, more to himself than anything.
“Bucky—I don’t need someone coming in there all prepared to be his personal assistant, and be ready to wait on him hand and foot, or anything like that. I need someone who will befriend him, Bucky. Someone who won’t make him feel like an enigma. Someone who’ll just… be his friend? And...help him find anything he might need. He doesn’t need a babysitter, Silly.”
Bucky blinked at his 1st AD. Did he hear her right? Did she just say “Silly”? Kay, who is so harsh she’s made more than fifteen people quit on the spot, most of them crying, just called Bucky “Silly”.
“So, do you think you can do that? Just...hang out with him? Make sure he’s happy, comfortable, all that?”
“Uhh… yeah. I think so. I can… right?” Bucky wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince: Kay or himself.
Kay gave him another warm smile before looking down at her watch. It made Bucky feel rather uneasy, and he was sure that seeing her smile wouldn’t ever feel weird. “Okay, He’s meant to arrive in about an hour and a half. He’s just rehearsing today, and very little at that. You should show him around the lot, actually. If he wants. Some of these buildings are older than him. Might be a nice change, I don’t know. I’ve got to get to the writer’s meeting. Here’s a packet with some things: his contact information, his schedule, dressing room, and a list of other resources on the lot, in case you need them. He’ll meet you right here. I gave him a description, so he should be able to find you, even if you can’t find him. No one has seen this guy in five years, so brace yourself. Who knows.”
Bucky watched her walk away, with mild disbelief still splashed all over his face. “Again. What the actual fuck…” he whispered to himself. Well, he had a bit of time to kill. He looked down and took in the packet for the first time. Now was as good a time as any, he supposed. He stepped off to the side and worked his way up the stairs to the dressing rooms, which was normally an off-limits area, and despite his status with this production as key personnel, he felt the imposter syndrome coming on.
He slid two fingers under the flap at the top and slid the papers out smoothly. He figured that if he could keep the papers in good condition, maybe he could handle keeping the man that way, too. There were five pages of words. He stared. He blinked. He read. Counted the ticks of the clock in the hallway. He read again. Accidentally became invested in a conversation between two grips about the graffiti in the bathroom up in the stage perms. He read. Again. He looked up with a loud huff. “This is fucking pointless.”
He checked his watch, jogged down the stairs, and stopped short at the bottom. He looked up, blinking, and panicked for about two seconds upon realizing he only had half an hour left until the original Captain-fucking-America himself arrived and became Bucky’s responsibility. Heading straight out the elephant door, he started in the direction of the public restroom two stages down. Not once had he ever encountered another person there, so naturally, it was his favorite. Aside from the bright, fancy, ultra-clean one in the H/MU room.
He slid his sunglasses out of the pocket of his black leather jacket, which he insisted on wearing despite southern California temperatures, and deftly fit them over his face. They were the darkest he’d ever seen sunglasses, and he liked that no one could see what his eyes were doing. He’d perfected the art of the Resting Bitch Face: the foolproof way to be left alone by tourists, PA’s, and cops alike.
The aforementioned bathroom was a welcome reprieve from the heat of the LA sun which, even at this early hour, was already bearing down. He yanked his sunglasses off his face while he walked straight to the sink, turning the water on and splashing it upwards. He groaned, louder than he probably should have in a public restroom, and closed his eyes, letting the water run down his face. “Motherfucker. I can’t believe this.” The one person in the universe he knew more about than himself, the one most improbable that he’d ever meet. “I’m getting paid to be his friend? What the fuck.”
The thing was, this was weird. No one did shit like this. If a celebrity didn’t have representation, they represented themselves. But, usually, when you decided to do a movie, you had representation. At minimum. You were prepared. This situation was so out of left field, but...then again, Steve Rogers was out of left field.
Well, no use delaying the inevitable. He fit his sunglasses back into place but hesitated before turning away from the mirror. He was nervous, and it was hot. He should really ditch the jacket. He shrugged it off and straightened out his black t-shirt.
He took a deep breath and looked at himself one last time in the mirror. Okay. This was happening. He could do it. Couldn’t he?
---------------
Steve parked his bike in front of the stage and pulled the keys out of the ignition slowly. If he could stall, even for just a few seconds, he would. The moment he took his helmet off, his life became the property of the public.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Goddamn Tony and his obtrusive arrangements. Steve had, until one week ago when Sam had sent him a Buzzfeed article titled “Captain America: from Superhero to Superstar,” thought he agreed to a job as a consultant for a movie set in 1932. Which he’d only agreed to so he could get to Nat.
The Infinity Stones were still enough of a mystery that when the dust settled, they weren’t sure they’d gotten Nat back at all until Steve went back to return the stones in time. Steve had been more than a little surprised to see the Red Skull when he made his way to Vormir, and even more surprised to hear him say that Natasha would indeed be waiting for them on Earth now that the Soul Stone had been returned.
Which is what made it so devastating when they couldn’t find her.
It wasn’t an exact science, of course, and Natasha was far from the only person afflicted by the side effects of the Blip. A small percentage of people who’d Blipped came back with forms of amnesia, physical ailments, decreased immune systems. Steve even saw a news story once about this 16-year-old girl who came back with an entirely different head of hair. The use of alien technology resulted in alien consequences. Some people recovered, and some didn’t.
Steve had spent the better part of the last five years trying to search for her. It was one thing to look for someone trying to hide, but an entirely different thing looking for someone who didn’t know they were lost. They’d all been looking for her, of course, but Steve had felt so unmoored after they’d defeated Thanos. Natasha’s absence had been a big part of that. How was he supposed to move on, stop fighting, be happy, without her? When she just… couldn’t? It was impossible. The Avengers had become his family in a way he’d never anticipated. Growing up, it was always just him and his Ma. Then she’d died, and he’d been on his own. Later, he had the Howling Commandos and Peggy. Family was something he took seriously. Something he cherished. And, unfortunately, something he never got to hold onto.
After Thanos—after losing Nat and almost losing Tony—there was a hole in his heart he didn’t know how to fill. He didn’t even know if he wanted to. For so much of his life, he’d already lived with that hole. And every time he grew close to someone, when he inevitably lost them, another piece of his heart died until he wasn’t sure there were any bits of it left. There was an undeniable dark cloud residing over him that seemed to be a permanent fixture.
In lieu of fixing or even addressing it, he just... left. He gave Sam his shield. He dyed his hair darker. He packed two bags and a backpack, strapped them to his bike, and then just drove. He had some ideas, of course, of where he thought he might like to end up. Places he remembered seeing on the USO tours back in 1945. Places he’d heard about since he woke up, de-thawed, in the twenty-first century.
He wound up on the other side of the country. In Oregon. And he loved it.
It rained something like eighty-five percent of the year there, and it turned out that Steve simply loved the rain. Coincidentally, so did his three alpacas, Curly, Moe, and Larry. He decided soon after arriving that he wanted to have a farm. Not a for-profit farm, but a way he could live on his own, for the most part. His alpacas were the first major purchase, after his new property, and they’d so far been all the company he’d needed...mostly.
There were always times where Steve would wake up screaming in the night, images of Natasha falling from that cliff in Vormir at the center of his mind. Once he’d seen that fall, it was easy to imagine, and it stuck with him. He spent too many early mornings with sunlight streaming through the round stained glass window in his second-floor bedroom, and tears streaming down his face from missing his best friend and his Ma.
In those moments, it was easy to miss his people. He stayed in touch, sure, but he never let anyone come visit. He’d never even given his address to someone else. There was a wall he had subconsciously built up, dividing him from everyone he loved. It’d been easier to lean into it, rather than fight it.
Steve closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and held it. He started counting to ten. He reminded himself that this was a mission. He was good at missions. One of the best strategic minds in history, some said. He could handle this. At seven, his hands gripped the handles of his bike a bit too tightly, and just as he felt the metal begin to bend, he hit ten and let every ounce of tension go.
Taking one last second to prepare himself for whatever might come his way, he straightened up and pulled his helmet off. Keeping his sunglasses in place, he swung his leg over the side of his bike, looking up at the large building he found himself standing in front of. A soundstage, it was called. It’s where they filmed movies and TV shows in a controlled environment.
He heard a throat clear to his left and looked over, eyebrows slightly raised. A kid was standing there wearing all black in ninety-degree California heat, standing with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the side of the large stage door. An elephant door, Steve remembered it was called. He took a second to wonder why it had such a specific name, deduced that it’d likely be due to the large size of the door, big enough for a truck—or an elephant—to fit through, and tucked that away, wanting to check that fact when he could. Maybe Google would know.
Steve smiled what he hoped was a calm, comfortable smile...without any of the anxiety and tension that was currently eating him up on the inside. The kid tossed him a crooked grin and slid his large sunglasses away from his eyes and up into his hair. Steve thought he might be nervous. He braced himself for the awkward chemistry that he was used to experiencing when he met civilians. Tony had assured him people wouldn’t harass him here, that movie studios were safe spaces for celebrities, generally speaking. Steve guessed he was wrong.
“Steve, right?” Steve blinked at the steady and almost flippant tone this kid used. He used his first name. Not Captain America, or Captain Rogers, or Cap. Just Steve. The kid stared at him with a bit of an expectant smile on his face, like he understood how uncomfortable Steve was and wanted to assure Steve that he could trust him. Steve felt his shoulders relax a bit and found that the smile he returned came genuinely.
“Um, yeah. That’d be me. How’d you know?” he tried. The joke landed, and he saw the kid’s eyes light up with a touch of mischief. Eyes that he now found he couldn’t stop taking in, grey and a bit stormy. Steve quickly became mesmerized. He wanted to draw them. He took a moment to be grateful for the dark sunglasses he had on so this boy couldn’t tell he was staring.
“Oh, you know. I recognized you from the giant promotional poster hanging inside the stage, duh.” Steve felt his mouth drop open in shock and discomfort. The kid’s eyes shone with mirth and he let out the most beautiful laugh Steve thought he’d ever had the pleasure of hearing. The kid hunched over and shook with laughter, his whole body moving with it. There was a moment where Steve thought his heart might stop. From the anxiety about there being a massive picture of him on prominent display, or the way his stomach seized up when the beautiful kid in front of him smirked and started to move towards him. “Relax, grandpa. I’m just teasin’ ya.” He held his hand out to Steve once he was standing directly in front of him. “I’m Bucky.”
Bucky was shorter than Steve. He was lean, wearing skinny jeans with rips down the front that showed off his figure, as Tony had taught him. Steve caught himself and snapped his eyes up to meet Bucky’s. He found himself up close and personal with who he had determined to be the single most beautiful boy in the entire world. Trying to keep this air of semi-confidence and nonchalance, he shifted his weight to one foot and grabbed Bucky’s hand, giving it a firm shake without trying to linger.
Bucky smirked and started walking towards the elephant door. “Come on, I’ll show ya your dressing room.” Steve blinked again, pleasantly surprised that Bucky seemed to be who Steve was meant to connect with when he arrived. Not wanting to question the opportunity to spend more time with his new crush, he followed Bucky through into the stage. He looked down when he quickly slipped his sunglasses off his face, and folded and tucked them to hang off of his shirt. When he looked back up, he had to dodge out of the way of two young frazzled looking kids carrying four full carriers of Starbucks coffee each. They looked back and, upon seeing who they almost doused in caffeine and milk substitutes, they turned sort of pale and stuttered out rushed apologies before bounding away with their heads further down.
Steve turned back to find Bucky stifling a laugh behind his hand. When he noticed Steve’d turned around, he cracked another grin and gestured with his head towards the stairs leading to what Steve was assuming were the dressing rooms. Steve was familiar with this part from his USO days.
He followed Bucky into a room on the far end of the row. Bucky turned around and winked at Steve, “It’s the biggest one. It’s real nice.”
Steve couldn’t keep in the low whistle that left him when he walked into the room. It was the size of the apartment he shared with his Ma back in Brooklyn in the ’30s. Small for an apartment but large for a temporary space on a movie set. Steve figured there were more high-maintenance celebrities than himself who had come through here and demanded their space be as luxurious as the rest of their lives.
Bucky wasted no time. He moved into the room, plopped down and sprawled out on the larger couch of the two in the room, and grabbed the remote to turn the TV on. Steve hovered for only a second before he decided to follow Bucky’s lead in getting comfortable. He looked around and saw a table in one corner of the room. He slipped his backpack off, setting it on the table neatly, and slid out of his leather jacket, folding it over the back of a chair. He hesitated again, unsure what he was supposed to be doing, and admittedly slightly thrown off by Bucky’s lack of... structure?
The couch did look inviting, though, even more so with the beautiful man strewn all over it. So, Steve slunk down into it, on the opposite side of Bucky. Bucky didn’t waste much time. “So. I’ll be hangin’ with you for today, and maybe the next few days if you want. Help get ya sorted out and used to things.”
“Oh. Well, thanks. I’m looking forward to it, then,” Steve smiled over at Bucky, who looked back at him with an unreadable, maybe inquisitive expression on his face. “I’ve never really done something like this before.”
“Oh, no?”
“Well, I—” Steve stopped short when he caught the teasing grin Bucky was flashing at him. “Oh,” he chuckled.
“Well, it’s not entirely new, is it? I mean, you’ve done public performances, appearances, so on. Stuff like that is similar to this. This is just… a bigger scale.” Bucky smiled at him. That smile could shatter diamonds, Steve thought.
“Oh. I suppose you’re right.” He huffed a small self-deprecating laugh.
“So…” Steve met Bucky’s eyes and saw the hesitation there. He smiled as a way of signaling his encouragement. “I mean—could I ask you a question?” Steve stiffened just a tad. He’d not been so naive as to think no one would ask any questions about where he’d been, or what he’d been doing. He just didn’t know exactly how to answer those questions yet without destroying the quiet and safe life that he’d meticulously cultivated over the last five years.
Steeling himself, he gave Bucky what he hoped was not too tense of a smile. “Sure.”
“I just….” Bucky stopped and looked down, a complicated thought process written all over his face. Steve thought he was fighting with himself about something. The next moment, Steve saw Bucky’s resolve crumble, and Steve expected the floodgates to open. Bright red now, Bucky continued, “So listen, I’ve sort of been a fan of yours for my whole life. I’m not going to ask where you’ve been or anything, because the way I see it, anyone you’d want to know that information, anyone you love or whatever, they probably already know. Right? So, I guess what I wanted to ask was… Are you doing alright?”
Steve’s brain sort of stalled out. What? Was he alright? Was this kid screwing with him? Steve stared at Bucky for a moment too long, and Bucky’s entire face changed. Replacing the wide, concerned eyes was a shadow of doubt. Steve blinked again, furrowing his brow. Bucky was serious. The second he realized that, he relaxed. Steve smiled over at Bucky, melting back into the couch’s cushions which were, admittedly, astonishingly comfortable.
“I’m… well I’m here.” Bucky didn't seem too happy about that answer, concern shuttering over his face once again. So Steve smiled again, softer this time. “I’m fine, Bucky.”
Bucky took a second, staring at Steve with half concern and half disbelief. “Well, good. I’m really, uh. Really excited to be working with you.”
“What do you do on the movie?”
Bucky’s entire face lit up. “I’m a makeup artist. Key artist, actually.” Steve noticed, and loved, the pride tinting both Bucky’s voice and his body language. Then he processed what Bucky actually just said.
“Wait, if you’re a makeup artist, then what are you doing here with me?”
Bucky flushed red, again. “Well, the... powers that be wanted you to have someone to show you around, at least for your first day. You know. Since it’s all new and whatever.”
Steve chuckled to himself. Every time he thought this boy couldn’t get any cuter, he pulled another stunt and thawed Steve’s resolve to stay away from society a little more. “And you’re the man for the job, huh?” He winked at Bucky. “Well, whoever decided that, I owe them a whale of a thank you.”
Bucky went roughly three shades deeper red. “Oh? I’m not, uh. Not nothin’ special or anything.”
Steve squinted at Bucky, using every ounce of self-restraint in his body to stop himself from reaching out and brushing his thumb along Bucky’s red cheeks. Geez. This crush might be getting a bit out of hand. “You sure about that, kid?”
Bucky met his eyes. It seemed that the cool, confident kid that Steve was so smitten with had finally met his match. Bright-eyed, slack-jawed, adorable. Bucky broke eye contact and fumbled with what appeared to be a folder full of papers. “Um-” He pulled out the top paper and Steve could see that his hands were shaking slightly. “So, um, you’ve gotta be down for a table read at 2-”
“Bucky?”
“Y-yeah?”
Steve leaned over and smiled at him. He laid a hand gently on Bucky’s arm. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. You’re just… Well, you’re beautiful. I didn’t mean any disrespect. And hey, please don’t feel like you have to stick with me. I’m not, uh… I’m better with my alpacas than people these days. Kind of rusty on the human interaction thing.”
Bucky stared at Steve in stunned silence. After a full sixty seconds of this, Steve started to sweat. “Bucky? I’m sorry, did I make it worse?”
That seemed to snap Bucky out of the reverie in his head. He laughed. A tad hysterically, Steve thought.
“You have alpacas?”
Steve blinked. “I, uhhh… Yeah, yeah I do. Three of them.”
Bucky burst out laughing. He didn’t stop for at least two minutes. There were tears in his eyes when he finally looked up at Steve, who was so mesmerized by the way the kid’s eyes scrunched up and how wide his smile could get. “St-Steve,” Bucky began between chuckles, “I’m-I’m so sorry. It’s just that. Honestly, of all the things I expected you to say, or expected you to be like—and you have ALPACAS. Who owns alpacas?” Bucky continued his now gasping laughs, apologies slipping out here and there.
Steve didn’t notice when his face split into a wide smile. He didn’t know the last time he smiled this wide. It burned at the edges of his mouth. He was so transfixed by Bucky’s mirth that he didn’t realize that he let more personal information slip. “Well, yeah, there’s a fairly lucrative alpaca market in Oregon.”
Bucky started to calm down, and he looked over at Steve. “Oregon? I don’t think I would’ve pegged you for Oregon.”
“Why’s that?”
“I mean, you know. New York, born and raised, all-American golden boy? Doesn’t exactly scream ‘hermit in the woods who talks to animals’ to me.”
Steve grinned. “Yeah, well. The media over the last 80 years really did have their way with my public image. Most people don’t know that I’m a classically-trained artist. I love to paint in the wooded areas surrounding my home. I paint a lot of things I remember from before the ice. I paint my alpacas a lot.”
“A painter?”
“All types of mediums, but yeah, painting is my favorite. I could… show you some, if you wanted?”
Bucky’s eyes light up. “Really?”
Steve smiled warmly at him. “Sure, Buck.”
Bucky’s face grew a shade of red Steve wanted desperately to paint.
---------------
The day went by faster than either of them had expected. They walked around the lot while Bucky told Steve random stories about the Backlot.
“Some of these buildings are as old as you, ya know.”
“Ah, yes. I remember going to my first moving picture. They didn’t call them movies back then. I went to a movie palace with my Ma for my sixteenth birthday. It cost twenty-five cents for each of our tickets and she had had to save up for a long while to be able to afford it.”
“You mean a movie theater.”
Steve snorted. “No. I mean a movie palace. That’s what they were called. They could seat one to two thousand people at a time. They were all over the place.”
“Oh. Whoa.” Bucky giggled.
Bucky showed Steve Stage 16, which was the largest soundstage in North America. While they walked past it to see the large tank full of water that currently housed a true to scale pirate ship set for a comedy show about sailors on the high seas, Bucky told Steve about how this stage was once the same size as every other stage on the lot, but in 1935 this actress, Marion Davies, was making a movie completely funded by her extraordinarily rich boyfriend, Clark Gable, and had wanted a stage that was significantly bigger than standard size. When the owners of the studio refused to put up the money for the construction, Clark did so instead. It was so large and such a big job, that they’d had to hire construction workers to stand around all four sides of the stage and crank it up, foot by foot. It required such extensive and complicated coordination that there were drummers on every side of the stage, to keep the beat so that every construction worker could hoist the stage up at the same time.
Bucky also showed Steve some of the bungalows on the lot; simultaneously explaining that they used to house the actors who had deals with the studios, back when that was how actors worked. Steve asked what Bucky meant, and Bucky continued to tell him that actors would make deals with a major studio name, and only make movies with that studio.
They walked across the entire lot, through the Midtown USA backlot, and then the New York Street backlot (Steve had barked a laugh that it was called New York Street, given that it didn’t much look like it), eventually ending up amid the bamboo and cabins of the Jungle backlot. The Jungle had green everywhere, and an entire lagoon with ducks and moss and leaves floating on the surface. Steve had asked Bucky if they could stop so he could draw it and take pictures to paint later.
Steve’s first table read was entertaining. At least, it was for the two of them. Bucky got to sit right next to Steve (at Steve’s insistent request, to which Kay lifted her eyebrows) and he spent nearly the whole time trying to make Bucky laugh. Bucky’s favorite part of the whole event was listening to the oblivious script supervisor, Robert, explain in detail what the ’30s were like to someone who lived their prime young adult years in them.
“...and middle-class folks had to work several jobs to make ends meet, even after coming out of The Great Depression, which set back several thousands of families and killed just as many. There was this tentative but celebratory air in America, that things were getting better but that didn’t cancel out the suffering the majority of the country had seen…”
At one point, Steve fell asleep entirely. When he was woken, he was being stared down by the entire table, headed up by the intensely scowling script supervisor.
“I mean, you can’t exactly blame me, can you? I don’t mean any offense, but I’m pretty sure I'm far more well-versed in this topic than you are, sir.” Bucky hadn’t been able to hide his obnoxious snort upon seeing Robert turn bright crimson from his hairline to the line of skin showing above his Hawaiian t-shirt. Bucky was pretty sure even his bald spot was angrily blushing. “Actually,” Steve continued, “I’d like to clear up a couple of your misconstrued facts, if I may…”
The end of the meeting signaled the end of the day for most people, Steve, and subsequently Bucky, included. Steve couldn’t help but sulk about it. Bucky took notice of Steve’s rather sudden change in demeanor.
He took a chance. “So, this has been one of the most fun days I’ve ever had at work. And, I’m on set a hell of a lot. Like, too much probably. So it’s saying something.”
Steve perked up at that. “This has been one of the most fun days I’ve ever had, period,” Bucky gasped when Steve stopped him by grabbing his wrist lightly. Bucky’s heart hammered a little. He couldn’t help it, and who would, with Steve Rogers touching them? “I’m actually not sure if I’m quite ready for it to end yet…”
Bucky furrowed his brow and looked at the ground for a moment. “Oh! I could show you the makeup room? Somehow, we didn’t make it there yet. They should be done with removal and cleaning the room up to get set up for tomorrow, by now. If you want?”
Steve smiled at him. So, they were reading each other’s signals right, Bucky thought. They walked toward the room, which was the last of them all on the first floor. Steve laughed while they recounted the interaction with Robert from each of their perspectives.
When they finally walked in, Bucky threw his arms out. “My babies! I have returned!” He walked further into the room, plopping into the chair at Ronnie’s station. “Hope you didn’t crash and burn without me.”
Ronnie snorted, “You wish, loser.”
Nat was sitting at her desk, semi-hunched over her laptop, madly typing away on what Bucky assumed was the final draft of an adjusted makeup schedule for the following morning. Without looking up, she deadpanned, “I’m sure we did better than you did with your childhood hero.”
Bucky, mortified, forced out an uncomfortably high giggle. He turned to Steve, but Steve was frozen in the doorway with an unreadable look on his face, staring directly at Natalie.
“Steve?”
Nat looked up and looked shocked to see Steve. “Oh! Well, hello, Mr. Rogers. I’m Natalie. I’ll be your makeup artist if it doesn’t end up being Bucky. It’s nice to meet you.”
Steve’s face broke, and he looked absolutely devastated. Bucky’s brow furrowed, and he repeated, firm this time, “Steve?”
Steve spun around and left before Bucky could even blink. Huh, that was weird. He looked over to Nat and found her already staring at him with a perplexed, if not dumbfounded expression. “I’ll… I’ll go check on him, I think,”
Nat nodded, blinking for a moment before hesitantly returning her eyes to her laptop screen, brow furrowed.
Bucky took a deep breath and walked out the door, hoping Steve wouldn’t be too hard to track down.
He wasn’t.
Bucky startled for a moment upon seeing one supersoldier Steve Rogers sitting on the floor against a wall, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped so tightly around his legs Bucky was concerned about the safety of his pants. Tears were streaming from his eyes. So many the edge of the lapel of his shirt was soaked.
He couldn’t help but melt at the sight of Steve at such a vulnerable moment. “Oh, Stevie…” crouching down, Bucky grabbed Steve’s face firmly and shook it a bit to bring Steve back into focus a little. “Stevie. You’re okay. It’s okay.”
Steve stared, but the crying began to slow.
“Steve,” Bucky started. “Tell me what’s wrong?”
With a shuddering breath, Steve looked Bucky dead in the eye. “How is she here?”
“Um, who, Steve?”
“Natasha.”
Bucky furrowed his brow. “Natasha?”
“Yes.”
Bucky was dumbfounded and could only stare at Steve, whose eyes were still unfocused and glossy. Did Steve think Natalie was Natasha? Bucky could admit that the similarities were rather uncanny but everyone knew that Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow, had died on Vormir as a requirement to get the Soul Stone. Sure, Natalie looked reminiscent of Natasha, and sure, maybe it was an odd coincidence that their names were so similar. But Bucky had never considered that the two were one and the same.
---------------
Steve was in shock. He had to be wrong. There was no way Bucky had just introduced him to Natasha, calling her Natalie, his boss. That must’ve been in his head. That was too close of a coincidence. But, Steve knew. He’d seen her face in his nightmares. It was her. She’d looked at him with barely more than the typical Captain America recognition, and she called herself Natalie, apparently, but that was his Nat.
“Bucky, your boss. She said her name was Natalie?”
“Yeah, Nat, she’s my best friend.”
“When did you meet her, Bucky?”
Bucky, more confused than ever, shook his head at that. “Steve, what do—”
“Please, Bucky. When did you meet her?” Steve watched as the confusion clouding Bucky’s eyes started to dissipate. He jumped on his chance. “I know it probably seems weird. But, I think—”
“You think she’s actually Natasha Romanoff.”
Steve closed his eyes. He took three deep breaths. Bucky just said it out loud. Bucky came to the conclusion on his own. Bucky wasn’t denying it. With one more deep breath, he opened his eyes and, with conviction, said, “I know that she is.”
Bucky nodded, then turned around and slid down the wall next to Steve. “Okay. So what’s the plan?”
“Plan?”
“Well, yeah. She doesn’t remember, right?”
“No, I don’t think so. But, she thinks her name is Natalie. There’s gotta be an explanation. I don’t know. We knew she’d come back. But we couldn’t find her anywhere. We figured she was stranded, confused maybe. If she lost her memory, it would make sense why she not only didn’t find her way back to us, but we couldn’t find her until now.”
“Until now?”
“Oh. Yes. I… That’s sort of why I’m here. Tony had gotten wind of her being in LA. Working on movies and such. I was never planning to be in a movie, obviously. Tony thought it would be funny, I guess.”
“What, you mean it’s not for my charm and dazzling good looks?” Bucky leaned into Steve, nudging him with soft chuckles. His head was swinging low with a smile on his face. Steve had noticed Bucky did that whenever someone complimented him.
Steve couldn’t drop the seriousness yet. He gently reached down and slid his fingers just under Bucky’s chin. Not touching him, but enough to chuck his head upwards to make eye contact.
“But what if I stayed for that?”
“I—what? Stayed for… what?”
Steve just smiled at Bucky for a moment. “For you. Would you be open to going on a proper date with me?”
Bucky’s eyes widened more than Steve even thought possible for a second, then he smirked and smiled at Steve. “That depends. Do you take your dates out on cute ‘40s-type adventures? You gonna take me for a picnic in an open field?”
“I guess you’ll just have to say yes to find out, huh?”
“I guess you’re right.”
Steve and Bucky shared their first kiss sitting that way, inches between them on the floor of a soundstage. It wasn’t desperate, or frantic. When they broke apart, Bucky laid his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve let his arm fall around Bucky’s shoulders and pressed a gentle kiss into his hair.
“So,” Bucky started after some time, “How about that plan?”
FIN
