Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It'd been in his personal effects, a tiny square covered in a thin layer of dust. Steve's hands shook as he cradled the simple blue box. He knew exactly what was nestled inside; knew that opening it would make him cry.

"Something sentimental, Captain?" Fury asked bluntly but his expression showed sympathy.

He murmured as he tucked the box into his pocket, "It holds the best years of my life."

"Some box," Fury's one good eye pinned him in place. "Must have a hell of a story."

"Not really, Director."

-December 3, 1936; Brooklyn, NY-

They got married on Bucky's birthday—Steve eighteen, Bucky nineteen—at midnight in a friend of a friend's apartment in Brooklyn. Their priest believed that true love was between all people, not just the traditional couples.

He wrote out a marriage certificate, had Steve and Bucky sign it and tucked it away in the church's files after he announced that they could kiss one another.

"We got hitched, Buck." Steve muttered in disbelief as they cuddled in the corner of the couch, wrapped in three blankets and holding a mug of mulled wine each. "Ma'd go nuts."

"Question is, darlin', good nuts or bad?" Bucky drawled out.

"Good, I'd like to think. She thought I'd never get past ten, so anything like this's a miracle by her standards." He turned his hand in the low light, fascinated by the thick band of bright silver wrapped around his thumb.

"Even getting married to a scoundrel like me?" He teased back and Steve laughed so hard he almost coughed. "Oh, shit, sorry."

"I'm okay." Steve wheezed out and inhaled carefully. "Especially if I was married to you, you dummy."

"'Cause I take care o' the only asthmatic guy in Brooklyn lookin' for a fight." Bucky gently rubbed at his chest and pecked Steve's forehead. "We only wear the rings on a chain or when we're at home."

"You need to keep dating to keep up our ruse. I don't really need to do anything but be myself." Steve recited as they'd promised.

"Stevie, darlin'," His husband—husband!—sighed as he cuddled close. "That's because they can't see past your face to get here."

"My murmur-filled heart?" Steve hummed as Bucky started mouthing at his neck.

"No, your angelic temperament and shitty jokes that leave people speechless." Bucky snorted. "I just married you. I don't think it gets any further when it comes to lovin' someone that much."

"There is that."

Chapter Text

Married life, it turned out, was no different than being illegal lovers. Bucky went on dates, Steve got roughed up for protecting people and Bucky knocked their lights out.

Steve still let Bucky kiss away his hurts but now he could hear, "My husband is still an idiot in all the years we've been doing this," that warmed him to his core.

"Your idiot though." he pointed out.

Bucky sighed as he agreed. "True."

"Baseball?"

"Baseball."

-May 2, 1941; Dodger's Stadium-

The Dodgers were losing when Bucky and Steve took their seats in the nosebleed section. Bucky described the game on Steve's good side and got excited when their team started catching up to the Cubs.

When the Dodgers won, Bucky coaxed Steve into one of the seedier bars in Hell's Kitchen that looked the other way if someone arrived with the same gender. They held hands and nursed a whiskey between them as they watched the bar fill up with similar couples.

Steve kissed Bucky in that dark corner booth, being braver than he ever had in picking a fight. To get caught doing this was a criminal offense; it was either the work camps or lifetime incarceration for a kiss like the one they were sharing. Bucky kissed back like it was the last time they would.

He loved that Bucky went for it, so much so that they had to pull themselves away for a moment to heave in air.

"Tá tú cróga chun déanamh sin. A póg go poiblí?*" Steve purred and Bucky flushed red. Bucky loved it when Steve started speaking in Gaelic. He'd sit there for hours while Steve sang about sharing a potato or about Ireland herself.

"You sweet-talkin' me in Irish, Stevie?" Bucky asked.

"Maybe. I could be cursing you out and you'd still love it."

"... Probably." His husband admitted.

-December 8, 1941-

The headlines Steve woke up to were horrifying but not as horrifying as the thought that his husband was going to be in that war sooner rather than later.

Bucky enlisted that day alongside thousands of other men. Steve did too; the glaring dark grey F4 against the lighter grey of what he's told is a cream colored sheet mocked him something awful.

"You can collect for the war effort," They told him kindly. "Buy war bonds."

Steve stuffed the paper into his jacket and stomped out of the building. Bucky silently joined him, keeping pace until they made it inside of thier apartment.

"Darlin', you're worth a hundred o' those guys."

"Am I, Bucky?! Am I really when I'm sick?! A goddamn heart-murmur, deaf in one ear, can't see in goddamn color, can't drive a truck cause of my far-sightedness, asthmatic guy barely breaking five feet!" Steve yelled until he cried. He hiccuped and asked miserably, "Why'd you even marry me, Buck?"

"Because you're the most stubborn jackass I've ever met in my life, Stevie. You're here and alive at twenty-three when most people woulda dropped dead from all of that." Bucky guided him over to the couch and cupped his face as he continued, much to Steve's chagrin. "You're wicked smart, can yell at me in three different languages but just chose English to keep me in th' loop and you can shred anyone at poker. God, you're so damn beautiful that you don't even know when people stop to look at you."

Steve sniffled and muttered, "Thought they were lookin' at you instead."

"No, definitely you. You look like a ferocious, righteous angel, 'specially when I see you backed into a corner, mouth bleedin' and that mulish face of yours sayin' 'I'll go another round if you leave that fella or that dame alone.'" Bucky's eyes locked with his as he sang Steve's praises. "I knock out their lights 'cause they can't see what I see an' nobody lays a hand on my husband without getting a fist to their face."

"You mean that?"

"Damn right I do, darlin'."

Chapter Text

Bucky left for Basic, sending out a letter addressed to Stephanie 'Stevie' Rogers once he got there, the PO Box almost at the edge of the growing city. Steve took the train, doubled back a different way every time and had a straight shot for the Post Office everytime he went.

It didn't help that he knew what they were doing had a heavy consequence.

Dear Stevie,

This is my new home for the next couple of weeks. I'd appreciate it if you'd send me plenty of letters about Mrs. O'Malley and Mrs. Jones and all the neighbors. Take care of Becca for me? Here's the rent for our place.

Love,

Bucky

Steve wiped at his face with his sleeve, smiling stupidly at the letter.

Dear Bucky,

I got your letter, you sap. You don't really want to know about Mrs. O'Malley, do you?

I miss you like crazy. I turn to tell you something at the market and you're not laughing at the squash or making stupid faces at the kids that scramble through. It's colder now that you're not in bed with me.

I found a dog though! He's big and fluffy and white, at least from what I can tell? I don't know why someone would throw away a perfectly good dog. He's only missing a leg.

I called him Bán, just in case he really is white. He licked the towel with the ice in it when it was on my face.

Yeah, I know you told me to keep my nose out of trouble but I can't help it...

I got him good though! Kicked his balls and kneed him in the face like one of your old girlfriends taught me.

I'm fine now. Bán keeps sniffing your dresser though. I think he knows there should be someone else here.

Yours,

Stevie & Bán

P.S. Enclosed a sketch of our new dog.

The next letter wasn't sent until two weeks later but Bucky's hasty scrawl had become a welcome sight. Steve treasured every single letter that Bucky dared to send.

Dear Stevie,

I can't leave you alone, can I? I'm gone maybe a day at best and you're already getting into trouble. Willis in the place across from us owes me ten bucks.

Yeah, I am a sap. I miss you something fierce, darlin'. I read your letter to the guys and they all want to meet the gal with a mean right hook. I told them they'd have to fight me and you for the honor. They agreed.

I know that dog! He doesn't belong to anybody and he's been out on the streets for a while. Yeah, he's white under all the mud he had caked on him. Since when is he our dog anyway? Wait. Don't answer that Stevie.

"Only missing a leg." Most people wouldn't know an angel was standing next to them if it yelled at the top of it's lungs, "I AM AN ANGEL OF THE LORD." So I can believe that Bán's a perfectly good dog. I'm glad you have someone to keep you company while I'm gone.

I miss you Stevie, but more than that, the thought of seeing you again motivates me here.

I think, 'What if Stevie was watching me? Could I make it then?'

Love,

Bucky

P. S. Can I take you out when I get back? Just the two of us?

Steve blushed at the last question in the letter. Part of him was glad that he normally didn't read these in public, as they were for his 'sister.'

Dear Bucky,

I collected your bet money from Willis. He added an extra five because technically you weren't even gone a week before I got in trouble. I'm holding onto it for now.

I'd love to go out with you. You owe me so many kisses when you get back home. Proper ones, the kind with tongue, because you promised. One for each week you were gone and two for every time my heart hurt because you weren't here.

Ignore that.

Bán's doing great. He pulls the groceries up on a board for me when they're too heavy. He's really useful.

I got a job as a clerk. It's boring but I can take night classes for art without being overly tired.

Becca's doing good! She graduated school and she's thinking about joining the WAC. I told her to hold on. I can only have one Barnes gone in my life at a time and she just got back.

I can't wait to see you again.

Yours,

Stevie & Bán

Since this last letter was addressed to Steve and his imaginary sister this time, he tore into it. The paper only contained a single line but it caused Steve to light up with the widest smile the post office had seen in years.

Steve,

Coming home on the 12th!

Bucky

"What's got you all happy, young man?"

"My best friend's coming home from Basic."

"Oh, how wonderful!"

"Yes, ma'am."

Steve waited in their apartment and paced until Willis yelled. He was just about to go get Bucky from the station when the door unlocked. Bucky walked in with a brand-new uniform on and a smile Steve hadn't seen in months. His husband kicked the door closed, locked it, gave Steve the most predatory look he'd ever made and stalked up to him.

"Buck?"

Bucky wrapped Steve in a tight embrace and kissed him breathless, tongue tangling with his. He backed them up to the bed and only pulled away to strip out of everything, hanging it up out of what seemed pure habit.

"God, you smell the same." Bucky gasped as he nuzzled at Steve's neck. He kissed Steve again and muttered, "One kiss for every week and two for every time I missed you. Gotta lot of kisses coming your way, darlin'."

"Dia a chara ar neamh...*" Steve shuddered as Bucky kept up his onslaught of kisses.

Chapter Text

Steve rolled over, expecting an empty pillow but saw Bucky leaning on his elbow and watching Steve.

"Hey," he rasped out, having shouted himself hoarse the night before. Bucky was really, really... Mmm. "Guess you missed me as much as I missed you, huh?"

"So much, Steve. The guys with dames got it, y'know. Nothin' can compare to the sight of you on that stupid couch we rescued from the alley." Bucky breathed. "Speakin' of rescues, what'd you do with Bán?"

"He's at your sister's place. Asshole took a liking to her and never left." Steve laughed fondly. "Oh, he'll come over for a scratch or a piece of ham but otherwise he's her dog through and through."

"That means I have you all to myself again?"

"Bucky, you incorrigible—Hmm."

"I'm gonna make you breakfast in bed, darlin', and I want you to relax." Bucky stroked an almost white strand of Steve's hair away from his face; he's told it's an angelic shade of blond and mostly by Bucky. Sometimes it sucked to not see in color.

"You were just at Basic... Okay." Steve relented with a tender look when Bucky pouted. "But that means tomorrow I get to make Ma's boxty."

"I can count on that?" Bucky tossed over his shoulder.

"Of course you can."

"That why there's mashed potatoes in th' icebox?" Bucky asked as he pulled out the small hunk of bacon and tub of butter.

"Mm-hmm."

They had a week of blissful domesticity.

Bucky's orders came in, shattering the illusion that thier time together was anything but precious. They sadly had to maintain thier lie to the rest of the world so Bucky found him a date.

The double date was as awkward as Steve figured it'd be.

She was interested in Bucky but had been friends with Bucky's actual date.

"So what do you even do?" She faked interest when Bucky glanced over at thier end of the table.

"I'm a clerk but I go to night classes... You like Bucky, don't you?" She flushed a darker shade of grey. Steve knew how she felt, before Bucky had blown all of Steve's dreams out of the water and replaced them with even better ones. "Listen, I'm his best pal. He's only out here to take it all in."

"Oh. You mean-"

"If you had a chance, he'd be gone before you could even think about going steady." Steve finished sadly. "Sorry."

"I see." She made small-talk but it was painful from both ends. Steve was just a means to her endgame of Bucky and she was here because society said you had to be with a woman. "We should head to the Expo if we want a good spot!"

"She's right, Sgt. Barnes." The dame Bucky was with clearly had a thing for fellas in uniform.

Steve couldn't say he blamed her when Bucky looked good enough to eat.

That night, Bucky's last, he clung as tightly as he could to his husband. They wore the rings as a concession.

"Hey Buck?"

"Yeah."

"You come home, you hear?"

"Sir, yes sir." Bucky threw a mock salute but Steve caught it and held it to his chest. "Stevie?"

"I mean it." He murmured.

"I know you do, darlin'. Does that mean you'll rescue my sorry ass if I get lost in th' German forest?"

"You and everyone you're with; you always did have a terrible sense of direction, Buck."

"That was once—"

"We ended up in a Mafia meeting."

"Aww, c'mon!" Bucky whined.

"On eight separate occasions."

"... Shit, Stevie, hate it when you're right."

-January 15, 1942-

Steve tried one last time to enlist, going stir-crazy as he was to join Bucky.

The man that pulled back the dark grey curtain was only a little taller than Steve himself.

"So, you want to go overseas. Kill some Nazis." the rough, Germanic accent made him curious.

"Excuse me?"

"Dr. Abraham Erskine. I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve." Steve expected for the MP to snap back the curtain at any moment.

"Steve Rogers. Where are you from?"

The doctor smiled at his question, "Queens. 73rd Street and Utopia Parkway. Before that, Germany. This troubles you?"

Steve internally groaned when he realized that the Doctor might take it as—

"No."

"Where are you from, Mr. Rogers? Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities."

He swallowed sharply and muttered, "That might not be the right file."

Dr. Erskine waved off his fear easily when he spoke again with another of those odd half-smiles. "No, it's not the exams I'm interested in. It's the five tries. But you didn't answer my question. Do you want to kill Nazis?"

Steve bluntly asked, "Is this a test?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to kill anyone. I don't like bullies. I don't care where they're from." He answered, his mind lingering on the thought of Bucky's comments.

Another one of those smiles and Steve smiled back.

"Well, there are already so many big men fighting this war. Maybe what we need now is a little guy. I can offer you a chance. Only a chance."

"I'll take it." Steve jumped for the opportunity.

"Good. So, where is the little guy from? Actually?"

"Brooklyn."

The doctor picked up the stamp and thumped it down on the paperwork, leaving behind a big 1-A. "Congratulations, soldier."

Not even twelve hours after that, Steve was bounced along in a truck with the other recruits.

"Céard sa diabhal raibh mé clárú le haghaidh? Mbeadh tú níos fearr fiú an praiseach, Bucky, nó mar sin cabhrú liom Dia, beidh mé ag tús do thóin léir ar an mbealach ar ais go dtí Brooklyn!*" He wasn't as silent, however, and disgruntled to boot.

"What's this 90lbs. soakin' wet kid doing here?"

"I wouldn't call him a kid. That's Irish and he just mentioned Brooklyn. Bad idea."

Steve's head snapped up and he grinned savagely. "Test me."

Half of the recruits leaned away from him and the two in front of him squeaked.

"Thanks but no thanks. My friend here was just sayin' you got a lotta spit-fire."

He chuckled and leaned back, humming the potato song as they drove onward.

When the guy who called him a kid got his lights knocked out by Carter, Steve wanted to break formation and ask her to teach him that punch.

He couldn't help the smile though.

Steve did his best, using intuition where the others used brute force, gaining the admiration of Dr. Erskine and Colonel Philips.

The day arrived for the procedure and Steve stumbled over his words with Peggy. She was gorgeous, had a wicked right hook and looked like what Steve imagined Bucky would look like if he was a dame.

She saw his ring dangling on his dog tag chain.

"Are you married?"

"It was my Da's," He lied easily, considering it was a man's ring. "I gave my Mam's to my best friend's sister."

"I see. That was wonderfully kind of you."

"You think so?"

"I do. You are a very interesting man, Private Rogers."

"You're maybe the third person to say that aside from my Mam." Steve laughed with a slightly sour note.

"Perhaps people need to look past the visual." she murmured.

"If people did that, I think we'd be better off for it, Agent Carter."

Chapter Text

The first color he processed was red.

Red was as vivid as it sounded when Bucky described it but so much worse as blood poured out of Dr. Erskine. He watched in shock as the man died while telling him to stay a good person.

Steve held his composure before incandescent rage swept through him. He chased after the HYDRA Agent, dismayed when the Agent died at his feet.

The world was disorienting in color and Steve kept tracking different colors as they did tests for his reflexes.

How did people do this? Steve thought distantly as they finished drawing vials of his blood. How did they focus when there was so much?

The sound alone was driving Steve nuts. He could hear the nurses three rooms down giggling about his body and how they'd climb him like a tree now, the doctors were talking technical jargon so fast that Steve had trouble keeping up and the SSR Agents were disappointed with just Steve.

He could taste the chemicals they used for cleaning and sterilizing and they smelled even worse because underneath... Underneath, Steve could still smell the blood. Erskine's, his own, the viscera from the explosion.

He swallowed and his eyes focused on the Senator, followed by the rest of his senses.

Selling war bonds was apparently his only use.

When they finally left him alone , he gripped his tags and his ring and laughed until he cried.

Bucky would've known what to do.

Steve took small comfort in the fact that his husband kept writing him letters and sending them.

Dr. Erskine was buried on a Tuesday, a week after he'd been shot. Steve wore his new rank and uniform as the sky opened up above them.

Steve waited until it was just him and Peggy.

He pulled out the remaining swirl of schnapps and poured half of it over the grave. "For you. I know you wanted to toast with me, so..." He drank the rest, the scorch on the way down warming him a little. "I'll be what you asked, Dr. Erskine, to the best of my abilities."

"May I ask? His last words." Peggy gently inquired as she stood under a black umbrella.

"To be a good man," he murmured in response. "Don't forget who I was; the little guy."

"I don't pretend to understand why they won't use you the way you are sorely needed. Best of luck, Pvt. Rogers."

"It's Captain now." Steve sighed. "The Senator pulled some strings. I wish he hadn't."

"Well, good day, Captain, and good luck in your endeavor." Peggy said sincerely.

The chorus girls took him in as he got dressed but he ducked his head when they tried to make eye contact. He gripped his tags, the spare set Bucky had sent as a joke and the ring he now knew was a steel band which had been over-sized for his ring finger before but fit perfectly now.

One of the broads noticed the ring and asked, "You got someone?"

"She's over there. Driving trucks, shooting guns, bein' dead useful. She's a hoot."

"Oh she's gotta be in the WAC, right?"

"She signed up the second they let her," Steve continued with the 'right' gender. "She's a crack shot too. Already got a few under her belt, way she tells it."

"Awww." The other dames cooed and Steve smiled. It looked like he'd do alright with the ladies here too.

"Miss her something awful."

"What's her name?"

"Becky."

"Becky's a lucky gal." One of the others snorted in the back.

"You think?" Steve asked shyly, still not used to all of the attention. "I... didn't always look like this."

"Then she's loyal too. Say, what's your name, since we're all gonna be working together."

"Rogers. Steve Rogers."