Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve found Bucky sitting on the sofa, his feet propped on the coffee table, and flipping through a book rested against his knees. He had never been much of a reader; therefore the current situation surprised Steve.

"What're you reading?" he asked.

Bucky lifted the book and let Steve see the cover without taking his eyes off the page. A Bucky Barnes biography, one released before Steve had been thawed. He hadn't read it himself, but he'd seen it in bookstores and considered buying it on several occasions. That had been before he had Bucky back, though, and he had feared it would be too painful.

"A gift from Barton," Bucky said drily. "He thought he was being funny."

Steve nodded. He dropped his gym bag to the floor and crossed the living room to sit down next to Bucky. Immediately, Bucky twisted around on the sofa to rest his head on Steve's thigh and draping his legs over the armrest. He had always been a physical man, but it was different these days. It was as if he was starving for human contact but the only one he would accept it from was Steve. As such, Steve was finding himself on the receiving end of a lot of casual touches, but he didn't mind.

"I was quite a ladies' man, wasn't I?" Bucky said.

Steve chuckled. "Handsome and charming," he said. "Very popular with the dames." He brought his hand to the crown of Bucky's head, ran his fingers through his hair. It was still long and Bucky had never shown any interest to cut it down to his original style; Steve assumed it was here to stay just like the metal arm. He had Bucky back but the Winter Soldier was a part of the package. "Do you remember?"

Bucky shrugged. He rolled his face into Steve's touch. "Some things. There're still blank spaces. I know enough to tell when the book's lying." He turned the page and continued reading for a moment before saying anything more. "I just can't tell what's being censored from what the author simply hasn't found."

"Like what?" Steve had read a few pages of his own biographies, had seen his exhibit at the Smithsonian, had seen a movie that was so inaccurate he couldn't take more than forty minutes of it. He wondered how many changes there could be in Bucky's story. He hoped nothing in the book would hurt the other man too much.

"Some people… The book makes them sound like my best buddies and I don't think I'd met some of them more than once." Bucky bit his lip. His brow furrowed. "Maybe I just don't… No, no, I'm sure I'm right." He sighed and looked up at Steve with a half-smile before turning his gaze back to the book. "And I remember I was popular with the fellas, too."

Steve's fingers froze with a strand of Bucky's hair twisted around them. "You've always had a lot of friends," he said slowly, trying to figure out what Bucky was getting at.

"No." Bucky frowned once again. "No, I mean… Like with girls."

"Oh," Steve said slowly. "I… didn't know that."

Bucky shifted on the sofa, pushing himself up to look at Steve's face. "I thought I told you everything."

"Not this," Steve admitted. How had he never noticed in all these years they lived side by side? It wasn't as if he had spent his youth unaware such things happened; he had simply never suspected it was the case with his best friend.

"Well, you know now."

"Yeah… Yeah, I do." Steve resumed his playing with Bucky's hair. "Thank you for telling me," he added after a moment. He had seen a girl say it on TV recently when a friend of hers told her he was gay. It felt like the right thing to say.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Bucky continued to read, turning the pages at a steady speed, and Steve watched the small changes in his expression and learned to understand them. The furrowing of Bucky's brows when he didn't like something in the book. The flicker of eyes to the right when he was trying to recall something and the memory was escaping his grasp. The corners of his mouth turning upward when he came across something that was a fond memory.

Then Bucky reached the glossy pictures in the middle of the publication. The first one was a black and white photo of James Buchanan Barnes in his uniform, handsome young man with an adventure ahead of him. A man who had had no idea what he was going to face. "I was a dashing fella," Bucky said, a half-grin appearing on his face. It didn't quite light his face up the way it used to and it wasn't all that happy. It was nice to see regardless.

"You still are," Steve said and offered a soft smile in return.

The smile on Bucky's face grew just a tiny fraction. He turned the page and Steve felt him tense against him. "Is that… Have you drawn that?"

Looking properly at the picture in question, Steve nodded. "They must have found it in my old sketchbook. There're some in the Smithsonian." Some had been in the possession of SHIELD and he got them back after they'd thawed him. Some were lost in the war.

Bucky traced the lines with the fingers of his right hand. The drawing showed him dressed in casual clothes, leaned against the headboard of the bed he was sitting on, relaxed and happy. It was one of the most human pictures of Bucky Barnes that still remained. "Did I really look like that?"

"That one is very true to reality. I got you to sit still for it."

To his surprise, Bucky laughed. It was a rare sound these days and it made Steve's chest swell.

"I'm better at staying still now," Bucky said, casually. He wasn't looking at Steve and for a moment, Steve wasn't sure how to interpret the sentence. Was Bucky merely stating a fact? Comparing the differences between himself and the man he used to be? Offering to-

"Do you want me to draw you again?"

Almost instantly a frown appeared on Bucky's face. "You wouldn't want to. I'm not a good subject for portraits."

"I want to!" Steve said hastily. He really wanted to. He had tried to drawn Bucky again many times, but it never turned out right without a model. There were too many changes in Bucky's face as it looked now compared to the one Steve carried with himself in his memory. "If you'd let me. I would love to."

There were many portraits of Bucky Barnes from the World War II. There were none of Bucky Barnes, the remade man. Steve wanted to draw the Winter Soldier and capture the myth the way he saw it: his own personal hero.

Chapter Text

Watching Bucky and Natasha spar was as close to pornography as Steve was going to go. Sure, Tony and Clint had – separately – attempted to get him to watch some, but the idea of it made him uncomfortable. Bucky and Natasha sparring, though…

They were both beautiful, they knew how to move, they weren't going easy at each other. It made Steve's breath catch and his pulse sped up, and he completely forgot about his own exercise routine. He abandoned his punching bag and stared at them until they noticed him.

"Are we distracting you, Cap?" Natasha asked. The amusement was clear in her tone as she ran both her hands through her hair. While Bucky was wearing casual clothes, she was in full uniform.

Steve felt a blush creep into his cheeks. "I'm just making sure my team's working well, that's all." He looked from Natasha to Bucky and if he was going to say anything more, it escaped him at the moment.

Bucky was looking much healthier than he had months ago when he first moved in with Steve to share his Avengers Tower apartment. And he looked stunning. Though he was covered in sweat, his chest draped in tight white t-shirt moved only a fraction faster than usually. His hair was caught in a messy ponytail, his chin raised a little, a hint of a grin on his face. Only a hint, but it was there.

Steve's fingers ached for a pencil.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Natasha suggested.

"I've nothing to do that with," Steve said rather than denying that was exactly what he wanted to do. There was no use and he felt no shame. He had lost Bucky too many times to deny that he wanted to always be able to look at his face.

Bucky turned to Natasha. "Doesn't my phone have a camera?"

He amused grin widened and she nodded eagerly. "Get it, Soldier!"

Bucky responded with a mock salute and jumped easily over the fence surrounding the sparring matt. Both Steve and Natasha watched him grab his gym bag and roam through it. "He is doing well, isn't he?" Natasha commented, not taking her eyes off Bucky.

"He's always been good at hand to hand combat."

"That's not what I meant."

Steve smiled fondly. "He is."

Bucky returned to them with his phone in his hand. He shoved it towards Natasha without a word and she grabbed it excitedly. "Time to teach you fossils how to take selfies."

Steve shrugged. "I actually know how to." When she gave him a look that was half surprise, half disappointment, he shrugged again. "It comes with being, well, a public persona." He was a fast learner and needed only a single explanation to know how to take pictures with fans on various phones.

"That settles it," Bucky said, looking at Natasha. "You need to catch me up to speed."

She did, and Steve watched her show Bucky how to take a picture of himself. "And this is how you send it to Steve," she was explaining, but all Steve could focus on was the crease between Bucky's brows, the intense focus on his face. He could only see Bucky.

Later, he found a picture of Bucky in his emails, and then another selfie with Natasha in the picture, held securely under Bucky's metal arm, laughing. Steve briefly considered setting the first one as his phone wallpaper and forwarding the second to the rest of the team, but he did neither. This was for him.

***

He found Bucky in the communal kitchen, which was a new sign of progress. During the first few months, he barely left the apartment except for the scheduled appointments with doctors, psychologists, and psychiatrist, and the interviews with intelligence which had been soon postponed when the team helping to get him back in the working order realized those were setting the progress back. Now he was far more willing to enter the communal areas, but Steve suspected he was on purpose avoiding running into too many people at once. He had yet to find out for sure, but he wondered whether Bucky and Jarvis had some sort of system worked out.

When he walked in, Bucky raised his mug in a form of greeting. He was leaned against the counter, holding on it with his metal arm. Once again his hair was loose, falling around his face, and he was wearing a plain black t-shirt. Once again, Steve found himself wanting to draw him.

He pulled out his phone. "Mind if I take a picture?"

Bucky arched an eyebrow. "Don't you think you're trying too hard?"

Steve frowned. "I don't understand."

Bucky shrugged. "The Bucky Barnes is a worthy picture subject campaign you're running."

"What do you- Are you suggesting I'm rubbing your ego?" Steve looked at him incredulously. "Jerk. This is completely selfish, trust me."

"I think you've hit your head too hard when you crashed that plane," he said, leaning his own head against the cabinet behind him with a thud. "You've lost the little taste you've had."

"You're hurting me." Steve mock-pouted but then let his expression transform into a mask of full seriousness. "Look, Buck. Call me sentimental, but I… I like looking at your face and I want to be able to, always."

"I'm not going to disappear."

Steve waited with his response, wondering whether Bucky was going to realize what he had just said. He did. It was obvious when it hit him, because his expression softened immediately. He put his mug aside and took a step towards him.

"Steve," he said, and it was almost gentle. There was a hint of guilt, too, in that word. "Come here, you punk." He grabbed the back of Steve's neck with his right hand and pulled him forward into a one-armed hug. Steve was all too eager to wrap his arms around Bucky in response.

"I still don't understand," Bucky muttered. "Even if I hadn't- I tried to kill you, Steve. I almost- Even if that wasn't- I'm far from what I used to be, Steve."

"You're the most wonderful man I know, okay? And if you tell anyone I said that- Alright, I'd probably confess I did and add an embarrassingly long list of why I think you are, and you'd regret you said anything." He adjusted his hold on Bucky in order to grab the metal arm and set it around his back himself because Bucky seemed hesitant to do so. "I still want to draw you, too." He pulled back. "Report to our living room, Soldier. The light's better there."

"Stop ordering me around, Cap," Bucky replied with a hint of a smile, and Steve wanted to hug him all over again. "It's my off time."

Of course that was the moment Steve's emergency phone, the one that served as Avengers ID as well, started to vibrate.

"Are you ready to join Captain America in saving another day?" he asked, trying to hide his irritation at their moment being interrupted as well as his concern over whatever it was that was happening.

Bucky didn't seem disappointed at all. He hadn't been invited to fight along the Avengers yet, having had no opportunity since he was cleared for duty earlier in the week. "Never. But I'll go with Steve Rogers, if he asks nicely."

For a moment, Steve felt incredibly light.

Chapter Text

"That was a good outing," Tony said. He was rubbing the chest of his suit, examining a scratch that revealed the silver metal under the bright paint. "Good to have you with us, Barnes."

Bucky responded with a nod, his face unreadable. He had his arms folded in front of him and his gaze moved around the room. This was the first time Steve had seen him with the whole team, minus Thor, though it was a semi-professional meeting as they had just returned from the mission and only just left the quinjet. They were all still in the uniforms or costumes, dirty and bruised. Natasha settled on the kitchen counter, Bruce sank onto a chair. Tony, Clint, Steve, and Bucky remained standing.

It had been an easy mission and Steve was glad for that, because it offered Bucky training wheels when returning to fighting. No Hydra, not even A.I.M. Just a rogue supervillain wannabe in a poor replica of the Iron Man suit and supported by a few aggressive robots. The whole way back, Tony muttered about the misuse of technology and how he could have handled it on his own.

"It's good to have someone else in the field who can hit the target," Clint commented. He offered his fist to Bucky for a fist bump. Bucky eyed it with suspicion. "C'mon. You tap my fist with yours, it's a gesture of-"

"I know what a fist bump is," Bucky said. He brought his own fist to Clint's and brushed his metal knuckles against the other man's cautiously. Someone clapped. Bucky folded his arms again.

"Youth these days, right, Buck?" Steve said, smiling a little. He considered it a victory when Bucky chuckled.

"Sergeant Barnes, you're being mentioned on TV, " JARVIS said suddenly and brought down a screen. It wasn't showing anything as of yet.

Bucky's face grew grim. Everyone's attention turned to the screen.

"Show us, JARVIS," Tony called, stepping forward. Steve found himself resting his hand on Bucky's shoulder. Bucky leaned into him immediately.

The screen lit up with pictures from the news. Blurry footage of the Winter Soldier running alongside Captain America, another of him taking a shot from a rooftop. "Eyewitnesses state that a masked stranger has joined today the Avengers in their fight," the reporter was saying. "Who is this mysterious new Avenger? We're waiting for the statement from the Avengers Tower."

"Sir, Ms. Potts tells me to let you know she has the situation under control. Mr. Barnes? I'm to ask you for your opinion."

Bucky, a deep crease between his brows, looked at Steve.

"So, are we announcing Bucky Barnes' return to the world of the living?" Tony asked.

"James?" Natasha said. "It's up to you. We'll play with the cards you'll deal."

Bucky took a deep breath. Steve felt his whole body move with it. "The Winter Soldier yes, Bucky Barnes no. Tell them whatever you want about the Soldier, but I'm- I don't want to do that yet."

"It's probably going to happen sooner or later," Bruce said.

"Yeah, we sort of suck at the whole secret identity deal," Clint added.

"No yet," Bucky said firmly and stepped away from Steve. "I'm going to change. I'm boiling in this."

"He has a point," Bruce said and stood up. Everyone seemed to agree and they started to depart one by one.

"Yeah, go get clean clothes everyone! And shower!" Tony called. "You're bringing dirt into my tower!" As he walked away, the suit left dark footprints behind.

***

Bucky had to have left while Steve was in the shower, because when he left the bathroom, the apartment was empty. They had separate bedrooms, but he could always tell when Bucky was around. He briefly considered asking JARVIS where his friend had gone, but then he decided to leave Bucky some privacy. He'd been doing well, after all, and if there was any issue, he was sure he'd know soon.

It wasn't long before Bucky returned. He was wearing civilian clothes now and the left sleeve of his t-shirt hung empty. Steve's eyes were drawn to it for a moment from where he was sitting on the sofa, looking through the last few pages of his most recent sketches. He quickly forced his gaze to turn to Bucky's face, but the other man noticed and shrugged.

"Something broke during the fight. Stark's looking at it," he said casually. He sat down into an armchair across from Steve. "He's promised to look at the uniform too, to figure out a way to make it lighter and easier to move in."

Steve smiled. "That's good. I'm glad you and Tony are getting along."

A corner of Bucky's mouth lifted in a crooked smile. "I wouldn't go that far," he said.

Steve gestured to his sketchbook. "Do I get to draw you, finally?"

"Like this?"

"Sure, why not? If you're okay with it."

Bucky frowned. He looked at his left side, pulled at his sleeve. Then he nodded. "Yeah, okay." He sighed and shook his head. "Bucky Barnes, returned from war."

Steve found a blank page in his sketchbook and reached for his pencils before settling more comfortably on the sofa. "Try to not move too much, but you can talk."

Bucky nodded, but for a long while, he was silent. Steve was done with most of the rough sketching by the time he said anything. "Do you ever think about my kill count?"

"We're soldiers," Steve said casually. He knew what Bucky was trying to get at. That he was not a good man, that he had blood on his hands, that Steve shouldn't show him so much love and trust, that he didn't deserve it. Steve thought that to show anything but love for Bucky would be hypocritical on his part. Quite a few people these days could say that they've killed someone for Hydra, after all. "You've killed people while under my command."

"I'm not even bothered by the killing," Bucky continued. "Just that I've had no say in it. No choice. I didn't get to pick my targets, I didn't get to turn down missions that would be against my conscience. But I'm not bothered I killed someone. Just that- You wouldn't want to know about some of it. Some faces still keep me up at night."

"I've read your file," Steve admitted.

Bucky sighed. "Then you know. Then you know why I can't let people- So many people remember me as a hero. I can't- I'd feel like disappointing the world."

Steve stopped sketching. He sat the pencil aside. "You're still a hero to me," he said softly.

"You've always been a fool."

"Asshole," Steve replied automatically and for a second, it called a smile to Bucky's face before his expression turned grim again.

"I'm not ready to face the outcome. I've barely seen anything of this century and I know it would be bad- Will be bad. Because Barton's right, I don't think we can keep it quiet forever. I'm just-" He shook his head, leaned it back against the armchair's backrest. "They'll want to know everything. The arm, the last seventy years, Hydra… How do you make the public like an ex-assassin brainwashed cocksucker? Though I suppose I could always keep the last part to myself, eh?"

It took Steve a moment to react. "Well, you've kept that from me successfully for years," he pointed out. "Why have you never told me, anyway?"

Bucky shrugged. "I told you, I thought you knew. Besides, it's not something- It's not like any of it was serious. Just a few-" He shrugged. "I like girls just fine. I just like… both, you know?"

Steve nodded. He took a hold of his pencil again and after a studious look, decided that Bucky hadn't changed his position much and he could resume drawing. "Bisexual," he said.

"Hmm?"

"I think that might be the word you're looking for? If you want one. Though you could look up the definition to see if it fits?"

"Yeah, I might do that. Are there any fancy words for being a murder machine?"

"I think ex-assassin works just fine."

They settled into a silence that wasn't as comfortable as their usual ones, but it was far less tense than Steve would have expected. Once again, it was Bucky who broke it, and Steve was starting to consider that a good sign, too.

"We're… Are we good?"

Steve grinned at him. "Are you fishing for compliments, Buck? Because I don't know how many times I can tell you how wonderful you are before it gets embarrassingly cheesy."

"I think the line's been crossed already," Bucky said, but he visibly relaxed.

"Let's just say you'd have to do much worse things than your job, or men, to get rid of me." If Steve blushed at his wording, he hoped it wasn't too obvious.

Chapter Text

Most mornings, Steve woke up with the heat of Bucky's body pressed against him. Each would go to bed separately, in their respective bedrooms, but at some point during the night Steve would be woken up by Bucky crawling into his bed. Bucky's skin would be cold and clammy. Steve would shift in his bed to make room and Bucky would slide under the covers and fit his body into the spaces framed by Steve's. As if it was meant to be there. They never talked about it.

Some nights, Steve would wake up again to the sound of Bucky's screams. He would spend the next few minutes whispering calming words until Bucky settled against him again, breathing heavily and shaking just a little. Steve tried to talk about it, but Bucky wouldn't. Other nights, fewer in number, Bucky slept just fine.

Some mornings, Bucky would wake up angry and distant, berating Steve in a snappy voice for letting a dangerous man into his bed. Other mornings were easy and comfortable.

The one after he got to draw Bucky, finally, Steve woke up first, before his alarm went off. He had his chin rested on Bucky's healthy shoulder, his hand in the center of the other man's chest. Bucky was lying on his back, his fingers in Steve's hair, his expression relaxed.

"Stop staring at me," Bucky muttered without opening his eyes. "And don't dare to take a picture before I've shaven."

"You shave?" Steve asked, but did not look away. He was fascinated by the strand of hair that had fallen across Bucky's face, by the shape of his lips, by the few lines in the corners of his eyes. It was the artist in him, he couldn't help it.

"It's not my fault I have a five o'clock shadow before ten in the morning." Bucky opened his eyes and smirked at Steve. "Off. You're heavy."

"Whiner," Steve muttered, but he sat up before smoothing down the wrinkles his hand had left on Bucky's t-shirt.

Bucky's grin grew and for a moment he looked, despite the physical changes he couldn't hide, almost as Steve remembered him form before the war. Then his face twisted into a frown. "You know what I like about the future?"

"I think it's the present," Steve said slowly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I like the fact that if someone walked in right now and got the wrong idea, no one'd be getting arrested or dishonorably discharged. A lot about this century sucks balls, but this I like."

Steve pulled his hand away. He had not thought about how their interactions could be misinterpreted, though now that Bucky brought it up, he could see it. Especially when the 21st century appeared to be quite obsessed with the intimacy between men. "Yes, that's nice," he confirmed with a firm nod and then stood up to stretch his body.

If Bucky noticed his slight hesitation, he did not comment on it. Instead, he sat up – swiftly after an initial struggle. "Never try to lean against an arm you don't have," he said and dropped his feet to the floor. He rolled his neck and shoulders. "What time is it? Why're we up before six? I hope Stark's insomnia kicked in because I want my body parts back." Despite his words, his tone was almost casual.

"Does it hurt?" Steve asked.

"Only the pieces I don't have," Bucky answered. "Phantom pains. And there's an uncomfortable tingling where the new arm should be attached; I feel more naked than I really am. I don't normally take it off. Race you to the shower?"

Steve opened his mouth to ask whether Bucky was inviting him to share, then thought better of it. He wasn't sure where that thought had even come from, and it felt inappropriate. He took Bucky's words for a hint he wished to change the topic, and shook his head. "I'll have mine after the morning run," he said instead.

***

"Stark ruined my paint job," Bucky said when Steve next saw him, a deep frown on his face, and he shoved his arm basically right into Steve's face. "He fixed the arm, yeah, nice of him, but he ruined my paint job. Look. I look like someone pulled me out of a dumpster."

The star on his metal arm was definitely ruined. There were scratches all over, the red paint coming down in flakes. Steve brought his hand up to touch it and some of it brushed off onto his fingers. "I can fix it, if you want?" he suggested. He was used to painting over the scratches on his own shield and this wouldn't be much more difficult.

When he looked up from the star, he met Bucky's eyes. The way he was watching Steve was intense, but not in an uncomfortable manner. It made Steve's skin vibrate pleasantly. He dropped his hand and released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding since their eyes met.

"I think maybe I'm ready for a change of design," Bucky said. "Are you up for a challenge?"

"Sure." Steve nodded with no hesitation. "What would you like? The Avengers logo? A pinup girl?" The latter was a joke, though he wouldn't be surprised if that was Bucky's choice.

Bucky shook his head. "No, I was thinking more something like that?" He pointed to where Steve's weapon of choice was leaned against the wall.

"The shield?" Steve asked in confusion.

"Yeah. Not over the whole arm, just maybe the size of the star? Could you do that?"

Steve wasn't sure why, but the thought of it made his heart race. "I've got the paint for that."

Bucky looked around. His whole face shone with determination. "You said the living room light works best? Should we put newspaper on the couch or something?"

"You want to do it right now?"

A shrug. "Unless you've got plans. I don't want to keep running around like this." He waved his right hand towards the messed up artwork on his left shoulder.

That was how Steve found himself sitting besides Bucky, with a brush in his hand and paint all over his fingers. It would have been easier to paint the design if Bucky had removed the arm, but neither of them suggested it, and it turned into a nice afternoon activity. They were silent throughout Steve's work and the only sound in the room was that of them breathing unison.

"We'll have to let it dry before I can finish it," Steve commented after a while, once he had done as much of the work as he could at once.

"You know what you're doing," Bucky said with a shrug of his right shoulder. He turned his head to look at what Steve'd done so far. "It's starting to look much better."

"I'll finish it tonight," Steve promised. He needed to get up and rinse his brushes, but he was reluctant to move. His right leg was folded under him and starting to ache, but he had his other knee rested against Bucky's and only now noticed that Bucky's left hand had been resting on it for a while now.

"Steve?" Bucky asked in a voice unusually soft.

"Bucky?"

"You- Thanks."

Steve smiled. "Anytime."

It took him another few minutes before he finally got up and cleaned his tools.

Chapter Text

"I can't believe you've marked him," Tony said to Steve when they met in the meeting room on the communal floor. The giant round table was usually littered with everything from spare pens to action figures – because as professional as they were, the Avengers failed to clean after themselves – but at the moment it was pristine. Ten minutes until Steve went live on national television. "We all know he's yours even without the stamp."

Steve glared at Tony. "He's his own. It was his idea, anyway." He had not questioned Bucky's wishes. They were a team, partners, and if Bucky wanted a proof of that on his arm, then who was Steve to deny him that? "Besides, he wouldn't have needed a new art done if someone haven't ruined it."

Tony waved his hand and adjusted a camera above Steve's head. "At least he's had an incentive to get something more fashionable."

"It's not like scratching someone's car, Tony," Steve said with a frown.

"Don't I know it. Okay, Cap, just look at the light here. You'll see what they're showing on this screen here. Any issues, I'm right next door. Have fun and don't cause a scandal. Don't say anything I wouldn't!"

"Aren't those mutually exclusive?" Steve gave Tony a weak smile before shifting his expression into the one he had for media. They had a story prepared to sate the public's curiosity about the Winter Soldier.

He saw the screen flicker to life and a woman's face appear on it. "We have Captain America live from the Avengers Tower. Thank you for finding the time, Captain Rogers. How are you?"

"Thank you, Meagan. I'm doing well." He smiled. This newscaster was one he had worked with in past and found her nice and professional. That was exactly why Pepper set up this interview with her specifically.

"Captain Rogers," she said, leaning forward. He could see his own face in the corner of the screen. "Everyone's been wondering about the new member of the Avengers team. Can you tell us something about him?" For a moment, the screen filled with a picture taken of the Winter Soldier during their recent mission. It was a little blurry.

"The Winter Soldier," Steve said, and the image changed and he found himself looking at himself in real time, "has been with us for a few months now and we're lucky to have him. He is a sharpshooter and extremely skilled in hand-to-hand combat. He's been a very valuable asset."

"We are all curious about the arm. The Soldier's arm looks metal? Is he by chance a robot? Perhaps one of Stark's inventions?"

"No, S- the Soldier is human. The Winter Soldier lost his arm serving this country. The metal arm you see," and as he had expected, an enlarged picture of Bucky's arm was brought forward, "is a prosthetic. A highly sophisticated one."

"Is he a veteran, then?"

"Yes."

"What about the man behind the costume, though?" she nudged him when it became obvious he was not going to reveal anything on his own.

"The Winter Soldier is a very private person. He is uncomfortable with media attention and would prefer to keep his identity a secret for personal reasons." Steve struggled to keep his smile even.

"Does he have a family he wants to protect?"

"I don't have the authority to answer that." He knew they would take it for a yes, but that was alright.

The way she smiled, he knew he had guessed correctly. He hadn't lied, though, and if he allowed a piece of incorrect information to be spread… well, as long as it protected Bucky's identity, he was comfortable with it.

"What is true about the rumors that he's fought against you during the- Ah, helicarrier incident?"

Steve paused only for a second before he collected himself: "He was present during the battle. He's saved my life."

***

Almost as soon as Steve opened the door to their apartment, metal fingers closed around the front of his t-shirt and he was shoved against the wall.

"Never. Do. That. Again," Bucky snarled.

Chapter Text

"Bucky?" Steve brought his hand up to Bucky's wrist. The way Bucky was holding him, his fingers twisted in the fabric of Steve's shirt, he wasn't hurting Steve, just pressing him against the wall, supporting himself with his right hand rested by Steve's head. What hurt was the expression on Bucky's face. This wasn't the Winter Soldier, fighting with clean efficiency. This was Bucky, his best friend, upset in a way that Steve couldn't remember aimed at him. "What have I done? Tell me what I've done and I promise to never do it again."

"You've called me an asset." Bucky's voice was shaking, whether with anger or general distress Steve couldn't tell. He added emphasis to his words by hitting the wall with his open palm.

"Yes, I-"

"That's what they called me."

Oh.

Oh.

"Bucky." A wave of guilt spread through Steve's mind with the intensity of a tsunami. "I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't realize- I didn't think. I'm sorry, Bucky." Bucky opened his fingers though his hand remained where it were. Steve covered it with his own, rubbing soothing circles against the metal, though he wasn't sure how much Bucky could actually feel. "You- It's not how I meant it. I just meant-"

"I know what you've meant," Bucky said and his shoulders sank. "I know what you've meant. Just don't ever-"

"I won't. I promise, I won't." His intentions were hardly the point if what he had said, however innocent it had felt in the moment, upset his friend.

"I'm overreacting," Bucky muttered and started pulling away. Steve caught his hand.

"No, Buck. It's- Can we talk about it? Let's sit down, okay?"

They ended up sitting across from each other: Steve on the sofa; Bucky in the armchair hunched into himself, fingers of his hands laced together, elbows on his knees. The silence went on for longer than Steve had anticipated.

I promise to never treat you as a thing, Steve wanted to say, but wasn't sure whether it was the right thing to say. "I promise to never talk about you in a manner that upsets you," he said softly, trying his best to focus on not betraying his own distress. "Is there- What else- Is Winter Soldier alright?"

"That's a name. No worse than James Buchanan." Bucky looked up enough to offer Steve a tiny smile.

"Okay. Okay." Steve reached for his folded hands. "Are we good?"

"Yeah." Bucky let out a heave sigh. "Sorry I'm being- Sorry about slamming you against the wall."

"Eh, I've barely noticed." Steve shrugged. He rubbed his thumbs over Bucky's knuckles. "Sorry about being a jerk. If there's anything else-"

Bucky interrupted him by getting to his feet. "Can we just- I'm tired." He headed straight towards Steve's bedroom, and Steve followed him with no hesitation.

"Why do we even keep your room? I could have a studio," Steve commented in an attempt to lighten the mood as he watched Bucky climb into his bed as he was, in a long-sleeve t-shirt and pants.

"For posterity," Bucky answered as he shuffled to make room for Steve who took the time to strip down to his boxers and undershirt. "Is this… a problem?" he asked hesitantly after a moment.

"No." Steve switched off the light and lay down, facing Bucky. "I always want you with me."

"You're a sap, Rogers."

By the time Bucky spoke again, Steve thought he had fallen asleep.

"Do you know what my favorite memory is?"

"Tell me."

They talked in whispers. Sometimes, it was easier to have a serious conversation or one involving anything resembling feelings in the darkness of the night. It had been that way since they were children and sometimes the only place where they could talk about their fears and dreams was the living room floor in the middle of the night. Or later in their tiny apartment, where they didn't need couch cushions anymore, because their beds were so close together they could have reached each other if they had wanted.

"It's a vivid one, I think that's why I like it. A lot of my memories are a blur." Bucky's forearms were pressing into Steve's chest. His touch made warmth spread through Steve's body. "It's from the time we lived together. In Brooklyn, the apartment with the broken heating and noisy water pipes."

"Yeah." Sometimes, when Bucky felt like talking about things he could remember, he would pause for a moment, as if he wanted confirmation. He had only been wrong a few times, in insignificant details, but Steve made sure to always let him know when he remembered things correctly.

"That one. I woke up and I saw you and- You weren't healthy, but you looked so much better than you had just the day before. Your hair looked gold and you were just so- You had your arm stretched across the space between the beds. You held on my sheets. And I thought- I remember I thought: Everything's going to be alright."

For a moment, Steve wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't confirm or deny the accuracy of Bucky's memory. He had been sick so many times while they lived together that it was perfectly plausible. And it all sounded strangely intimate. He settled on: "Huh, and you tell me every other day to not stare at you while you sleep."

"Shut up."

Bucky sighed and turned around. Steve watched the back of his head for a moment before shuffling closer and tentatively placing his arm around Bucky's middle. It felt like the thing to do. Bucky tensed for a moment and Steve considering pulling away, but then Bucky relaxed and moved into Steve's embrace, pressing their bodies flush together.

If Steve woke up a few hours later with an embarrassing erection and needed to take a shower before returning to the bed, well, that was just a natural human reaction.

Chapter Text

Things settled into a sort of pattern after that: a mixture of missions, strategy planning, and everyday life, that left little time for Steve to wonder whether something between him and Bucky had shifted. Because it seemed to. His sketchbooks filled with drawing of the Avengers, but Bucky's face was persistently the most frequent. In communal areas, everyone somehow always left enough space around Steve to be sooner or later filled with Bucky. Numerous times, Steve found his breath hitching and a warm sensation settle in his abdomen when Bucky's hands rested on his body for too long.

Yet he didn't think about it too much.

Until the day he received a message from Bucky's phone with a picture of a denim-clad ass and an accompanying text: What do you think?

What the hell, Buck? he texted back, but before he received an answer, Bucky barged in with both hands full of bags.

"Natalia took me shopping," he announced with a challenge in his voice.

"Who?" Steve asked, blinking, and got off the couch. Bucky took it as a permission to drop all of the bags on it.

"Romanoff. She said all my shirts are boring and none of my pants flatter my ass. At least, that was her excuse for dragging me to at least ten stores." There was a light in his eyes, however; he had enjoyed himself.

Steve arched an eyebrow. "How come Tony is Stark, Clint is Barton, and Natasha is… Natalia?"

Bucky shrugged. "She hails from the motherland."

Steve's expression must have betrayed how startled he was by those words, because Bucky pulled a face. "Fuck you, Rogers. If I can't make inappropriate jokes about my fucked up past, who can?"

"Right," Steve nodded. "I'm happy you and Natasha get along. So… Does she want to set you up with someone? Because the last time she took me shopping, it was so that she could introduce me to self-respecting girls, who wouldn't date someone who dressed like their grandfather. Her words." While he wasn't sure it would be a good idea, Natasha had always had different opinions on dating than he had.

Bucky chuckled. He looked as relaxed as Steve had ever seen him. "No, I think she wanted to force me into too tight jeans entirely for her own benefit."

"Ah."

"What? Are you jealous?"

Steve shook his head. He crossed his arms. "No. Why would I be?" The thought of Bucky and Natasha spending time together was a good one. Bucky needed to go out more and it was nice to see him look so alive. It was just... Aside from the two of them being a dangerous combination, their skills and temperaments considered… He just didn't want to think about them together together. Just because, well, that was their privacy and if Bucky and Natasha enjoyed shopping for tight jeans… The ones that really did flatter Bucky's ass, if the picture Steve had received was anything to go by…

If Bucky noticed the way Steve's brain was failing to process the thoughts, he said nothing. "Well, I've heard you've spent some time together taking down Hydra… and S.H.I.E.L.D, while you were at it…" Bucky winked at him.

"What?" Steve faltered. "No. No! Natasha and I've a strictly professional relationship. And maybe we're friends. I think we are. I'm not-"

Bucky smirked at him. "Good. At least I don't have to warn you she probably has a thing with Clint." He leaned against the back of the couch. "Tell me you too have to shop without looking at the prices. I think I've just bought a pair of sneakers that cost more than our rent back when and I can't believe Natalia called it a bargain."

"Yeah. My head still spins when I see my balance. Are you going to show me what you've bought?"

"You're interested?"

"I've been around for longer, I need to make sure she isn't trying to make you wear something embarrassing."

"Technically, I have," Bucky said with a shrug. A cloud came over his face, perhaps as he recalled the brief moments of lucidity over the past seventy years. It disappeared almost immediately, though. "I'm not sure I trust your fashion sense, but let's see…" He very unceremoniously upturned the bags and their content spilled over the couch and the floor in a sea of fabric.

Jeans, nice pants, t-shirts, hoodies, and a leather jacket. Most of it in dark colors: grays, blues, and greens, with the occasional black. Some plain, some with simple graphics. Nothing too colorful and, as far as Steve could see, nothing too embarrassing. It looked like Bucky acquired a whole new wardrobe.

"I guess she's done a good job."

"This one's my favorite," Bucky said and fished out a gray t-shirt. It was simple except for a darker gray letters on the left side of the chest, surprisingly not too obnoxious: Keep your eyes on the stars.

"That's poetic," Steve said slowly. He had never pegged Bucky for someone who'd wear inspiring quotes on his clothes, but he could hardly compare the clothes they used to wear before the war with the fashion today.

"You're not appreciating the deeper message."

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "Probably not," he admitted. Stars? Like the star that used to be painted on Bucky's arm?

"Probably not," Bucky agreed, and shook his head with a sort of sad amusement in his expression. He started collecting his things. He picked up an armful and headed towards his bedroom. "Well, I'm going to try to fit this into my dresser. Do you have any ideas where to I can donate the old clothes?"

But Steve was still too busy trying to figure out what just happened to reply and so he just stood above the piles of clothes that Bucky's left on the floor, pondering. Maybe he was giving too much thought to a pretentious message on a t-shirt.

Only, he felt there was a joke he was missing and it was at his expense.

It was only when Bucky appeared in the doorway of his bedroom again and said: "Really, Star-Spangled Man?" that Steve got it.

He blinked. Then he grinned. Then he laughed. So did Bucky. It was the most comfortable moment they'd shared since Bucky started getting his memories back.

It was only some time later that Steve realized that he was still not entirely sure what it all had actually meant.

Chapter Text

They destroyed another Hydra cell. That night, Bucky didn't fall asleep until the dawn and even then it was restless.

The Winter Soldier saved a little girl's life during an attack the Avengers dealt with. The press celebrated him as a hero.

One afternoon, Bucky settled on the communal floor with Steve's biography. He read passages he disagreed with to anyone willing to listen.

"He's so much better than anyone could have expected," Sam said one morning when he and Steve were jogging side by side. Steve had learned to slow down enough for them to talk, though some mornings he still enjoyed frustrating Sam with his speed.

"He's done some great job," Steve agreed and his chest swelled with pride as if it had been him.

Some months ago, Sam had told him that there would come a time when Steve would have to accept that Bucky was as well as he was going to get. The time was getting closer. And while he wished he could take all the bad from Bucky's life and bury it somewhere where it could never find his friend again, he couldn't do that. And now, at least, there were more good days than bad. That he could perhaps live with.

***

Later the same day, Steve found Sam and Bucky sitting in the kitchen on the communal floor. Bucky was hunched over the table and held in both hands an action figure. A Winter Soldier action figure. It was dressed in a very good replica of the uniform, though its face was generic and partially obscured by plastic hair.

"I didn't know they've started making these," Steve commented with a soft smile as he headed towards the fridge. "It looks nice."

"They've only just been released," Bucky muttered. He didn't even look up from the figure. Moving its arms up and down with his fingers, he glared at it. If he had had lasers for eyes, the figure would have melted.

"The Winter Soldier's popularity is rising," Sam said. Unlike Bucky, he was smiling. "There're so many stories about his heroism and adventures with the Avengers. The public demand-"

"That's not right," Bucky interrupted him. He stood up, still holding the figure in one hand.

"Bucky?" Steve asked softly.

"It's not right. They shouldn't-" Bucky clutched the figure in his metal fist but it was too small and dense for him to crush it. "The Winter Soldier's no hero." He hurled the figure against the window wall of the Tower. It bounced off the bulletproof glass and fell uselessly to the floor.

He turned on his heels and stormed out the door.

Steve moved to follow him. Sam grabbed his sleeve. "You aren't going to get a word through right now."

Defeated, Steve sighed. "JARVIS?"

"Captain Rogers?"

"Can you locate Sergeant Barnes, please?" He knew that the AI didn't insist on politeness, but he wanted to treat it the same way as any other person.

"Sergeant is headed towards the firing range, Captain. Do you wish to relay a message?"

Steve shook his head. "Please inform me if his behavior turns concerning."

"Concerning meaning dangerous to himself or others?"

"Yes. Thank you, JARVIS. Also please let me know if he attempts to leave the premises." Though technically Bucky was allowed to leave the Tower on his own, it was generally regarded a bad idea even by Bucky himself. Steve felt that currently that was twice the case.

"Understood, Captain."

***

JARVIS reported nothing and Steve figured it would be best to let Bucky take his rage out on the obstacle courses and come back to him. It took hours. He was sitting in their living room with a tablet propped against his knees, doodling digital cartoon renditions of funny events from the Avengers Tower, when Bucky did come back. He stopped by the door, a dark figure in the dimly lit room.

"I'm not a very good man, Steve," Bucky said.

"But you are!" Steve's protest was immediate. If It was anyone else questioning Bucky's character, he would be on his feet and ready for a fight. To hear those words come from Bucky himself was painful.

"No, not really. I've never been. Not the way- But I want to do good things." Bucky's voice was low and tired.

"I think that's the only thing that matters," Steve said and put his tablet aside, leaving its screen on. It was the only light in the room. "You do good things all the time. You've always been good to me."

"It comes so easily to you," Bucky said. He made a step forward but then stopped again. The blueish light from Steve's tablet reflected from Bucky's arm, but his face was hidden in the darkness. "Doing the right thing. You always seem to know exactly what it is. It's never been that easy for me. But I think that as long as I work for the good guys, I'm doing okay."

Steve opened his mouth to protest that it was never really that easy for him either, that the things worth doing were difficult. He understood, however, that that was not what Bucky meant. And so what came out was: "Do we even know who the good guys are?"

"You are, Steve."

That's a huge responsibility you're giving me, Buck, Steve thought. He stood up. "Bucky? You're not any less of a hero than the rest of us. You've always been a hero to me and you've saved me so many times… There'd be no Captain America, or Steve Rogers for that matter, if it hadn't been for you. And you continue to do good things every day, and you've been through so much, and overcome things most other people didn't even have nightmares about… And even if we agreed that everything you've just said was true, that only makes you even more of a hero than I am."

"Yeah, well." Bucky said and sighed. "I think I want to go public. With my identity. If they're going to celebrate the Winter Soldier, they- They deserve to know who he really is." The way Bucky said it, though, sounded very much like he disapproved of the affection the public had for his superhero persona.

"You can do that, Buck," Steve said. "If you want, you can do that."

"It's not about what I want. It's what I've got to do."

That time, Bucky slept in his own bed, if he slept at all, and Steve considered it a very miserable day and night overall.

Chapter Text

Bucky was wearing his uniform, which felt very inconvenient to Steve, whose fingers itched to groom him for the press conference, but there wasn't much to be done about leather and Kevlar. He settled for combing his fingers through Bucky's hair. "Are you nervous?" he asked.

Though visibly tense, Bucky shrugged. "I could probably kill them all with a gum and a paper clip," he said grimly.

Steve repressed a flinch. "Yeah, but can you talk to them?"

"We'll see." Bucky grabbed Steve's hands which were still trying to smooth his hair. "Stop it. I'm the mother hen in this friendship."

Steve grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I'm just trying to make you look presentable, but it's a hopeless case."

"Jerk." Bucky took a deep breath. "Alright. Let's do this."

It was an invitation only conference, just the reporters Stark's people trusted. The rest of the world would have to be happy with a carefully worded press release. It wasn't ideal, it would raise questions, but they weren't going to throw Bucky to the lions the first time around. It had been difficult enough to come to some consensus among the Avengers (and the PR team) about Bucky's intention to go public. It was one thing to announce Bucky Barnes was back from death, but it was something else to admit the Winter Soldier's crimes. It took a long negotiation to come up with something all parties considered an acceptable tale.

When Steve and Bucky stepped out onto a stage, the seats were filled with microphone-wielding reporters. Steve put on a smile for the cameras, but Bucky's face was blank. It was a step up from hostile, at least. Steve stood to his left, slightly behind him. He was there for moral support only; this was Bucky's show.

Bucky approached the microphone on the stage cautiously. He offered the crowd a hollow smile. "Hi," he mumbled. After a beat of silence, someone chuckled uncertainly. It broke some of the tension, because Steve saw Bucky's posture lose some of its rigidness.

"I'm not one for long speeches. That's Steve's thing," Bucky said and pointed his thumb at Steve. "But I asked to do this so here we are. I'm the Winter Soldier, if the trademark high-tech limb didn't give that away." Here he earned himself a few more laughs. "My name's… I'm James Buchanan Barnes. I know, what were my parents thinking? Just call me Bucky." There were a few audible gasps. Behind the stage, a screen lit up and on it, the Winter Soldier's face morphed into an old photograph of Seargant Barnes. "Look, I wish I had a neat fairy tale explanation for this but the truth is ugly. You heard I died in the war. I may as well have. When I fell, it was Hydra that recovered me. What followed… For decades I was lost, without any sense of self. During that time I… I'm told, by my friends, by my teammates, by my therapists… I'm told what I've done during the time isn't my fault. That I've no responsibility. But I've killed people for causes not my own, people who'd have deserved to live. I regret it, it keeps me up at night, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to repent. I didn't want to stain Bucky Barnes' memory, not for myself but for the people who value it. But I couldn't keep it a secret from the people who've started considering the Winter Soldier a… worthy of the affection the Avengers receive from the public." While Bucky was talking, every set of eyes in the room hung on him. "Questions?"

Immediately, there was a commotion among the reporters. A young man, younger than Bucky and Steve, got up to his feet first.

"How come you've never aged?"

"I tell you I've blood of innocents on my hands and that's what you're curious about?" Bucky shook his head. "I've aged, though only some. The Hydra liked me so much they kept me in a freezer when they didn't need me."

Another journalist, a middle-aged man with a fighter's stance, shoved his microphone forward. "What made you betray-"

"No," Bucky interrupted him before Steve could have. "I've never betrayed anyone. I've done many things that haunt me, but you're not going to pin that one on me. Don't ever question my loyalty. Trust me, any moment of clarity I had, I broke a Hydra neck or two. So they made sure I didn't remember myself at all. Programming, brainwashing… whatever you want to call it, it took months to break through after Steve- after Captain Rogers found me."

A young woman stood up. "Are you ever afraid you'll lose yourself again?"

Bucky tensed again, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "I'm told it's not likely to happen, but yes. Yes, all the time." He wavered and shook his head. "I think I've said enough for today." Without another word, he turned around and stalked of the stage through the back door.

Steve's first urge was to follow him, but then he turned to the microphone himself. "Please, excuse Sergeant Barnes. He's been through a lot. If you have any more questions, I'll do my best to answer them."

Immediately, they've jumped at the opportunity. "Captain Rogers, would you say you trust Sergeant Barnes?" asked the hostile man, who'd accused Bucky of betrayal.

"More than anyone," Steve replied without a second of hesitation. "And it's not just me and our shared history. All of us trust him and he's proven time and time again that he deserves it. He's always where we need him during a battle, always has our backs."

"Have you considered the possibility of him being a sleeping agent?" the man continued and honestly, hadn't these people been screened? Steve remembered Tony saying no assholes would be present.

"We have considered it and then discarded the theory. But I assure you, we take safety seriously." His memory flew back to the first month, to Bucky's wrists shackled to the hospital bed and Bucky agreeing it was for the best. "Someone else?"

A brunette woman stood up and actually smiled at Steve. "What is it like, to have your best friend back, Captain?"

Steve returned her smile. "Some days, I can't even believe how lucky I am. It's an incredible coincidence, and there aren't enough words for me to express how happy I am. It hasn't been easy. The things we went through, those leave marks. But we're dealing with together and that's more than I could have hoped for. Some people don't get a second chance. We're on our… third if I'm counting right."

***

Bucky was sitting on the floor of their living room surrounded by Steve's sketchbooks. He was flipping through one of them, a new one with sketches of the Avengers and New York landscapes. The one he was looking at when Steve sat down to him was of Bucky himself in a loose sweater with a steaming mug in his left hand and a plate with a huge stack of pancakes in his right. Steve had drawn that one from memory.

"I'm sorry I ran out," Bucky muttered. "I got overwhelmed."

"You were really brave today," Steve said. "I was proud of you."

"Were you? You wouldn't have run away from a fight."

"You've always been smarter in this," Steve said and earned a chuckle. "You've done great." He rested his hand on Bucky's back.

Bucky leaned against his side. "What did you tell them after I left?"

"That I'm the luckiest man alive to have you back by my side," Steve said and rested his chin on top of Bucky's head.

"Sap," Bucky muttered.

Steve shifted around until he's maneuvered Bucky between his open lags with Bucky's back against his chest. "The next few weeks are going to be crazy, Buck."

"I know, but I had to." Bucky tilted his head in an attempt to get more comfortable, and his lips brushed Steve's jaw. Steve's heart skipped. "I needed them to know the truth. I don't care whether they like me now or not. There's only one person whose opinion I care about and going by the excessive cuddling…"

"Want me to stop?" Steve asked and made a show of pulling away, ignoring the warmth that had settled in his abdomen a few moments ago.

Bucky grabbed Steve's wrists and brought his arms around his own waist. "You make a great backrest."

Then he simply reached for another sketchbook.

Chapter Text

Steve stared at the articles displayed by JARVIS. During the past two days, the news about Bucky Barnes exploded and his face was everywhere. Some of the articles were decent with titles like Bucky Barnes the New Avenger, but some made his blood boil. War Hero Turns Unstable Assassin, for example.

"This one is my favorite."

Steve jumped. He looked at Bucky who brought forward an article titled Bucky Barnes Comes Back from Death a Changed Man.

"I didn't notice you," Steve admitted.

Bucky shrugged. "Assassin," he said in a manner of explanation. "Hey, I lied. This one is my favorite." He reached across Steve to pull forward another article. Captain America's Third Chance with His BFF. "That picture they found is nice." There was a candid of the Winter Soldier from a mission with the Avengers, but that was hardly noteworthy. The picture Bucky was referring to was definitely the one of the two of them together. It was a black-and-white photograph from the war. Both of them were in their uniforms, Steve's arm around Bucky's shoulders. He was grinning at the camera, but Bucky's face was turned slightly and it looked as if his smile was only for Steve.

"Are you sure you want to be looking at these?" Steve asked, gesturing to the articles at large. A few were nice, a few nasty. The majority questioned the Avengers' decision to let the Winter Soldier in.

"I told you, I don't care," Bucky said. Suddenly, a grin spread on his face. "Do you know what I'm thinking?"

"Probably something stupid," Steve replied on autopilot.

Bucky elbowed him. "I'm thinking that we have no pictures together," he said. "New ones, I mean."

Steve thought about it for a moment. Bucky was right, they've never taken any, not since before Bucky's fall.

"Let's fix it?" he suggested, already fishing out his phone.

"Here?" Bucky looked around and pulled a face. "Let's go out, okay?"

***

Their shoulders brushed against each other as they walked. Civil clothes, baseball caps, and glasses, they were as unrecognizable as they were ever going to get. Not for the first time in his life, Steve felt relieved they lived in New York, where most people considered themselves too cool to bother celebrities. Even so, with Bucky's story out, they were getting suspicious glances.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked quietly. With people staring, there was definitely a concern that Bucky would react in a Winter Soldier manner.

"Just stay close," Bucky answered. His hoodie had long sleeves, his hands were deep in his pockets, and his hair hidden under the cap. Without Steve's distinctive physique by his side, he would perhaps have no one noticing him. Yet Steve made him feel safe.

For a while now, Steve had been thinking about the effects they were having on each other. The effects Bucky had on him. Not just the feelings of safety. There was the way Steve's skin tingled every time Bucky touched him. The craving to put his own hands on Bucky, and how no matter how close he got, it never felt close enough. His fascination with every line of Bucky's face.

Steve had always thought that if he had any interest in men, he would simply know. He liked women, he had loved – he still loved – Peggy, he would have married her and they would have been happy. His fascination with men's faces, sometimes bodies… Those were the feelings of an artist. He liked women, he didn't need to worry about anything else. Only… Only he had always liked Bucky a little too much.

"Buy me ice cream and then we'll take pictures," Bucky said in the Central Park, interrupting Steve's thoughts.

"I happen to know you have enough money to buy your own."

"I left my wallet at the Tower," Bucky shrugged and smiled a mischievous smile. Steve really wanted to pretend he didn't know what he felt looking at it, but he couldn't stop the though from entering his mind. He wanted to taste that smile. He wanted to kiss Bucky. He wanted it really badly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping that Bucky would take his attempt to center himself simply for Steve's exasperation with Bucky's teasing.

He bought them both ice cream cones. They settled on the lawn and Bucky pulled out his phone for them to take selfies. The resulting pictures were nice. One of them grinning together. One with Steve making a silly face and Bucky sticking his tongue out. And one with Steve's face covered in ice cream after Bucky had shoved his face into it.

It was the best date Steve had ever been on, except for how it wasn't one.

***

"I like your new wallpaper," Natasha commented, her face suddenly appearing above Steve's shoulder. Damn assassins and their sneaky ways.

"Yeah." Steve's cheeks heated and he put his phone away, together with the incriminating picture of him and Bucky grinning like fools. "Did you want something?" he asked, turning his attention back to his breakfast.

Natasha jumped up onto a counter instead of sitting down onto a chair. "To talk about James."

"Is there a story to why you call each other strange names?" Of course, James was Bucky's actual name, but no one had ever called him that except for Natasha.

"Maybe. But that's not what I want to be talking about."

"What then?"

"Look, James'll have the whole US of A telling him to treat you well. I wanted to make sure someone spoke on his behalf, too."

Steve frowned. "Do you think I'm mistreating him?"

She shook her head. "Of course not. But just in case. You so much as scratch his heart, let alone break it, I'll hurt you. I'll hurt you in ways that'll make you wish you were still on ice." She said it in a perfectly neutral tone, but she meant every word.

"Break- Natasha, I know you like to meddle, but you're misinterpreting things." The last thing Steve needed was for rumors to spread. It would get to Bucky sooner or later and then it would be only more difficult for Steve to cover up his feelings. And the last thing Bucky needed at the moment was Steve's crush to deal with on top of everything. Especially when Steve himself had only just dared to put a name to what he was feeling. "Bucky and I are friends, that's it."

For a moment, Natasha gaped at him. "Are you serious? Fuck, you're serious. You two are so incredibly stupid."

Chapter Text

It would have been much easier for Steve to ignore his feelings, if Bucky wasn't so seamlessly integrated into Steve's life again. The story of Bucky Barnes, as he had been then and as he was now, was suddenly everywhere and answering questions about him was now a part of every interview. Not all the reactions were positive, of course, but the public was easily swayed to Steve's opinion and they continued to celebrate the Winter Soldier as a hero despite Bucky's thoughts on the matter. Everyone wanted their pictures together, everyone wanted to discuss their friendship. Hell, they've been getting contacted by production companies that wanted to buy the rights to the story of their reunion.

If it had only been that, though, it wouldn't complicate things so much. Their everyday life, on the other hand… They shared an apartment, and they weren't only two people living side by side. They lived together. In the living room and the kitchen, shelves and cabinets were filling up with things some of which were Steve's, some Bucky's, and some neither of them remembered purchasing but both used. And Bucky's things were making their way to Steve's bedroom.

It had started with Bucky's clothes. Once he had started going straight to Steve's bed instead of starting the night in his own bedroom, his t-shirts and pants began to litter Steve's floor and remained there until Steve threw them in the laundry basket. The nightstand usually held a book or two which Bucky was reading; he had turned into a history junkie and there was always a biography, a memoir, or a history book. Bucky's phone charger now lived in the top drawer of Steve's nightstand.

Trying to not think about how much he wanted to make out with Bucky was rather difficult when they were a couple in everything but for calling themselves that.

***

Not for the first time, Steve woke up from a very suggestive dream with an erection tenting his boxers. It was still the middle of the night and the bedroom was almost completely dark. Bucky was asleep, unusually quiet and peaceful.

Steve made an attempt to get up quietly only to fall back onto the mattress. The metal fingers tangled into Steve's white t-shirt held him down.

Steve considered his options. He could stay where he was and think about something unsexy, only he could feel Bucky's breath on his face and anything else was quite impossible to focus on. He could attempt to pull his shirt off, but he was having trouble imagining the logistics of the maneuver, and he would be risking waking Bucky up. Tearing the shirt to free himself would be a waste. And he was not going to stick his hand down his boxers with Bucky lying next to him.

One would hope that just the frustration by the situation would take care of his issue, but it didn't seem to help.

He reached for Bucky's hand and slowly started prying his fingers away from the fabric of his shirt. It wasn't an easy task.

"Steve?"

He flinched. Bucky's voice was sleepy, just a mumble. This was another thing Steve took for a good sign, the fact that Bucky was able to relax and sleep, at least around him, and woke up lazy and sleepy, not alert and ready to fight.

"Sorry for waking you up," Steve whispered back, trying his best to put enough distance between him and Bucky. "I need- Can you let me up?"

"'s everything okay?" Bucky asked but his grip on Steve's t-shirt loosened. He shifted and his thigh brushed against Steve's crotch, which caused Steve to gasp. Bucky let out a small 'oh' and then chuckled. "Yeah, take care of that, Cap."

Blushing crimson red, Steve got up to his feet and basically ran to the bathroom. When he wrapped his fingers around himself, he tried hard to not think about Bucky's body pressed against him.

***

It was impossible to ignore the grin Bucky was looking at him with in the morning. "Don't say anything," Steve groaned, a new blush creeping into his cheeks.

"Aw, Steve," Bucky said in a teasing tone and rolled onto his stomach. "Don't be so dramatic. I'm happy to know everything's working alright. You know, after all those years in the ocean…"

"Shut up," Steve said. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he dropped his head into his hands. It shouldn't be as embarrassing as it was, considering the years they'd lived together and their time in the army. Yet between Bucky's teasing and his embarrassing crush and the fact that Bucky knew he'd woken up hard while they were basically snuggled together…

"C'mon, Steve." Bucky reached out his hand and rubbed the space between Steve's shoulder-blades. "It happens to the best of us. You probably don't want to know how many times I've had to-"

"I haven't noticed," Steve interrupted him, because the more they were talking about this, the more fuel his mind was getting for fantasies he didn't want to have. It was awkward, perhaps even morally questionable, to think that way about his best friend.

"Sneaky assassin," Bucky reminded him. He was still tracing patterns on Steve's back with his fingers. "You know, if you'd like to relieve the tension in some other way… You can bring people over. Or go out for the night. I can sleep in my own bed once in a while."

Steve sighed and shook his head. "I haven't really felt like dating lately." Which, if he was completely honest, was a complete lie. In the past few weeks, he'd spent a lot of time thinking about dating. Dating Bucky. They could do that in this century, and he was ready to admit to himself that that was exactly what he wanted.

"But why?" Bucky traced Steve's spine with his index finger, causing Steve to shiver. "The most eligible bachelor. If it's because of me… I don't need you to put your life on hold because of me. Find yourself a pretty girl. Preferably one with a pretty sister. Or a handsome brother."

With a weak chuckle, Steve shook his head. For a moment, he was silent. He came to the conclusion that there was only one chance for some things and there was never the right time, but he would hardly get a better opening. He took a deep breath. "Have you ever thought about the two of us? Like that?"

Bucky's fingers on Steve's back stilled. Then the touch disappeared. When Steve turned to look at him, Bucky was frowning.

"I don't want to have this conversation," he said, scrambling to a sitting position and then getting to his feet.

"Bucky-"

"No," Bucky said. "Please, let's not do this." Before Steve could come up with words to react, Bucky had collected some of his clothes from the floor, and escaped through the door.

***

Steve spent the morning looking through files, working on strategy. It kept his mind off the morning incident and from wondering whether he and Bucky would be alright. He had known he should have kept his mouth shut.

It wasn't before noon that he finally reluctantly left the apartment. He wanted to ask JARVIS where Bucky was, but he wasn't sure what to say to him if he found him. However, the moment he stepped onto the communal floor, Clint grabbed his shoulder.

"Listen, Cap," he said. "I don't know what's going on with your boy but if he keeps ruining punching bags, Tony'll probably ask the two of you to pay for them. Plus, I'm not sure how much more of it can his flesh hand take."

Though he still wasn't sure what he would say to Bucky, Steve found him in the gym, punching a bag in a blur of violent movement.

"Buck?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Steve." Bucky didn't look at him. He didn't even pause.

Steve sighed. "I'm sorry I've said anything," he said. "It was- I simply realized some things lately-" Exasperated, he ran his fingers through his hair. How could things had gone so wrong in one moment? He and Bucky had been doing so well, but he had to have gone and messed things up by bringing into it feelings that weren't welcome. "It's probably just a crush anyway. It will go away, don't worry about it."

Bucky stopped trying to destroy the punching bag. He stopped it with his hands, but remained with his back to Steve. The knuckles of his right hand were bloody. "It's not that simple, Steve."

It was strange, how easy words could cause a greater pain than bullet wounds. "But we'll be okay, right?" he asked, a note of desperation in his voice.

Bucky sighed. "Of course, Steve," he said in the tone he used when he didn't quite agree with Steve but wanted to end an argument. "'Till the end of the line, pal," he added in a hollow tone. "I'll just- I can sleep in my own bed."

Steve opened his mouth to say Bucky didn't have to, but he understood why he would want to, so he simply nodded, even though Bucky wasn't looking at him. "Alright."

Chapter Text

Though they still worked well in the field, in the privacy they were far from okay. Bucky avoided Steve. He hadn't said anything about it, but he was rarely anywhere Steve was. His things disappeared from Steve's bedroom and any time he spent in their apartment, he spent it in his own room with the door closed. They still talked whenever they ran into each other on an accident, but it was strained and far from their usual easy banter.

It hurt.

Steve hadn't felt that lonely since the first few months after they thawed him out.

He could only hope that once things weren't so raw, the two of them would be able to work things out. They'd always had.

It didn't take long for the rest of the team to notice. Only a week or so had passed since that morning when Steve walked into his bedroom to find Natasha sitting cross-legged on his bed. The expression on her face caused Steve's heart to stop. It was almost neutral. Almost, save for an edge of something dangerous.

"Do you remember what I said about James' heart?" she asked in a conversational tone.

Steve shrugged. "I don't think I have any effect on Bucky's heart, to be honest." He wanted to, but Bucky had turned him down. That was the end of that story.

"Is that so? Because he looks pretty heartbroken to me, Cap. It's good for his fighting style, I must say, but that's not the point."

Steve sighed and leaned against his dresser. He wanted to put space between himself and Natasha, just in case. Not that he feared she would actually try to hurt him, but there was a dangerous light in her gaze and didn't want to give her an opportunity. "I think you're seeing the situation all wrong," he said. "We had a conversation about feelings, we established we're just friends, and we're now giving each other space. That's all. No hearts were broken. Not that it's any of your business." At least that's how the story went in his head. It was difficult to explain that most of the conversation had happened between the lines.

Natasha arched an eyebrow at him. "From where I'm sitting, it looks like you've been misleading him until you realized your best friend's been harboring a lifetime of feelings for you and you dropped him like a hot potato so that you wouldn't have to deal with it. Which would be unusually shitty of you, Steve, but I'm actually sure you're in love with him just as badly, which just makes you the biggest moron in the Tower. And Stark lives here."

"What?" Steve shook his head violently. "Bucky's got no feelings for me. I've told him I felt a certain way and he said he didn't want to talk about it. He's the one avoiding me!" There were also Natasha's words about love, but he really didn't want to think about that at the moment. What difference did it make, whether he had a harmless crush on Bucky or was in love with him? Bucky didn't want him either way.

She frowned. "That's not what he said."

Steve was opening his mouth to respond, to ask what she meant, what Bucky had told her, when their emergency phones started vibrating.

***

It wasn't going well. It wasn't going well at all. It never was, when there was some unstable form of the super-soldier serum involved, and that day the Avengers found themselves fighting a small army of super-strong, super-fast, armed and literally explosive test subjects. The Avengers were trying to avoid killing them, too, and that didn't make their job easier.

"Soldier?" Steve called through the comm. "Soldier, we need your help here. Fifth floor." He was holding the shield over his head with one arm, protecting both himself and Sam from an onslaught of bullets.

"Steve?" Bucky's voice came back weak.

"Bucky?" Something in Steve's chest tightened.

"Fucker got me," Bucky said. He made a choking sound. "I can't… You need… Someone else." More coughing.

"Bucky!"

A bullet hit the wall just to the right of Steve's head, drawing his attention back to his surroundings.

***

"For a moment, I thought you were going to just shoot them all," Sam said. They were walking down a hospital corridor, Steve barely holding himself back from running.

"I would have," Steve admitted. "If Tony and Clint haven't turned up…" It hadn't been his proudest moment, but at that time, he had only been able to think about how to get to Bucky in the shortest time possible. He wasn't going to let him die again.

Sam squeezed his arm. Steve offered him a strained smile.

The doctor's face was serious when they reached her. She was one of the Avengers affiliated people and Steve remembered talking to her once before, when Clint had fallen down from a roof during a fight without any way to prevent himself from hitting the ground. She had fixed him rather well.

"Sergeant Barnes will live," she said without greeting. "A regular human would be dead by now, but he will alright. It will take a while, but he will be. Only we can't find a level of sedatives that would be high enough to take away his pain without killing him."

Steve took a shaky breath. He'd caught a glimpse of Bucky when they pulled him out, broken and bloody. Tony and Natasha had manhandled Steve into getting his own bullet wounds looked at before he could reach Bucky.

"What happened to him?" Sam asked while Steve moved straight towards the door that were separating him from his wounded friend. Every minute he was kept away, his insides ached a little more, as if being crushed by invisible hands.

"Impact injuries and bullet wounds. If I were to guess, I would say he had found himself between a fast driving vehicle and a wall, shot at afterwards."

"He got him," Steve said over his shoulder. He remembered a SUV at the scene of a battle, with crushed front, broken window, and a body hanging through the driver's door.

He opened the door and stepped through. No one followed him.

Bucky lay in the hospital bed, connected to machines that hummed and beeped. They had removed his artificial arm and it rested motionless on a nightstand beside the bed. What Steve could see of his face was red and blue, his breathing was ragged. The Winter Soldier didn't complain about pain, it didn't stop him, but he still felt it.

"Steve," Bucky said, his voice weak.

"I'm here," Steve said and dropped into a chair by the bed. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Yeah. Thought I was done."

Steve reached out to touch Bucky, but he wasn't sure where to touch without causing more pain. "I thought I was going to lose you," he said. He hadn't realized how close he'd been to crying before his voice broke. He coughed to cover a sob.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," Bucky whispered.

"I thought I was going to lose you when there were things I needed to tell you, to explain-"

"Not now, Steve."

Steve nodded. He smoothed down a few wrinkles in Bucky's sheets. "Just be alright, Buck."

"Just stay close," Bucky whispered. Steve could easily give him that.

Chapter Text

It took almost twelve hours for the medical staff to figure out the correct doze of sedatives for Bucky. After that he kept drifting in and out of sleep every few hours, sometimes waking up dizzy and disoriented. Steve stayed with him the whole time. Only once did someone try to suggest he should leave, perhaps go home to sleep, but he didn't even say anything – something in his expression was enough to shut the person up.

He didn't know where he had fallen asleep himself, but when he woke up, he had his arms folded on the side of Bucky's bed and his head rested on them and there were fingers in his hair. When he opened his eyes, Bucky flinched and took his hand away. Steve missed the touch immediately.

"I've a memory," Bucky said. It was barely a whisper. "Strapped to a table and there's so much pain. And I'm going to die, but it's okay, because I know you're safe at home and you're going to be okay. I'm so grateful you're never going to see war up close, you stupid brave idealist. And then you're there, all huge and- For a moment I thought I was hallucinating you. Little Steve Rogers coming to save me. Not so little anymore."

While Bucky was talking, Steve sat up properly. Bucky's face was still bruised, but it looked better.

"I was fighting the war so it wouldn't get to you," Bucky continued. He sounded bitter. Or perhaps angry. The emotion was strong enough to color his weak voice. "For a while, I hated what they did to you."

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out.

Bucky closed his eyes. "But you've always been this. Just got the body now to match the attitude." His speech was starting to slow down, he was slurring the words. "Don't have to worry about finding you dead in an alley somewhere. And other people can see you now."

Steve adjusted Bucky's sheets. "I hate what they did to you, too."

But Bucky was asleep again.

***

The next time Bucky woke up, Steve was sketching.

"Don't tell me you're drawing me like this. I'd have to burn it," Bucky muttered.

Steve turned the picture for Bucky to see. It was a made up scene of Natasha braiding Bucky's hair with a focused expression. The Bucky in the picture was wearing a t-shirt with the Avengers logo on it. Steve thought the picture was funny and even Bucky's lips curled up a bit.

"Draw something pretty for me," he said, but his eyes were already fluttering shut again.

"I could draw myself," Steve suggested before he could stop himself.

"Mhmmm, yeah. But you never do yourself justice."

***

"Sergeant. Three-"

"Bucky. Bucky! You're safe. You're in a hospital. It's me, Steve."

***

"You used to be so small. I wanted to keep you in my pocket, but I always had holes. Didn't want to lose you."

***

"This isn't so bad. At least I know I'm still human."

***

"Steve?"

"Here. I'm here."

"That's good."

***

"You don't have to stay, you know." Bucky reached his hand out, rested it on the edge of Steve's sketchbook. He was getting better much faster than he should, his injuries considered, but he was still weak. His movements were slow and heavy in part due to the drugs dripping into his bloodstream through the IV.

Steve frowned at him. "I promised you I'd stay close."

"You've been here for days straight. You should get some sleep in a real bed. Some real food."

"Natasha brought me a hamburger earlier," Steve protested. The look she had given him while handing him the paper bag, he wasn't sure whether she was upset with him or judge him. But she had brought him food and stayed with him in almost amiable silence for some time while Bucky slept.

Then he considered Bucky's words. Perhaps Bucky didn't want to have him around. Maybe he found Steve's company exhausting when he was trying to rest. Maybe he didn't really appreciate Steve seeing his lack of control under drugs. "Do you want me to leave?"

Bucky sighed. "I don't want you to pity me."

"Then you need not worry," Steve said with a small smile. "Because me hanging around is entirely selfish."

"Bullshit. You hate hospitals." Bucky was watching Steve curiously, almost with suspicion. "I think that's why I've never told you," he mused. "Didn't want your pity. I knew you'd figure everything out if I gave you a hint, you were always too smart. And then you'd pity me. Or you'd be sorry for not being able to give me what I want. Or you'd-" He turned his head away and closed his eyes. "Or you'd try to make me happy because of some messed up reason."

"Bucky?"

Bucky let out a deep sigh.

"There's something Natasha said," Steve started. His heart was beating too fast, almost painfully so. The things Bucky was saying, he was almost willing to hope that Natasha had been right when she's said that Bucky had a lifetime of feelings for Steve.

There was no response. Whether Bucky was asleep or pretending to sleep, Steve couldn't be sure.

He sighed and smoothed down Bucky's sheets again.

"I love you, Buck."

Chapter Text

"I love you, Buck," Steve said. There, he had said it and it was hanging in the air between them. His heart continued to pump the blood through his veins at speed that was almost painful. He didn't dare to breath.

Only, the only response was silence.

Bucky was asleep once again.

And Steve thought he was going to explode.

***

It took almost two weeks before Bucky was allowed to return home. During that time, the words were always on the tip of Steve's tongue, but he never tried to say them again while they were in the hospital and there was medication involved. Especially when Bucky was once again distant, perhaps fearing he had already said too much.

So it was not until they were in their apartment again that he said: "Can we finally talk?"

They had been quiet on their way there. The drugs gone from Bucky's system, he was back to avoiding Steve and it was driving Steve crazy. Even in the apartment, Bucky had headed straight for his bedroom.

This time, however, Steve had followed him. He was going to sort this.

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't want to before it gets through your thick skull?" Bucky said. He walked to the very opposite end of his room, but he turned to Steve with a defiant expression and his arms crossed on his chest. His room was oddly lacking of individuality and weirdly tidy compared to the mess he used to leave in Steve's.

Steve stepped towards him. "You're avoiding me and I can't take it anymore!"

"I'm giving you space!"

"I don't want it!" Steve threw his hands out in an exasperated gesture. "Space isn't going to help because this isn't going away and I- I'm almost sure you feel the same and I don't understand why you can't just admit it."

That made Bucky falter. "I- What?" He blinked.

Steve frowned. "I told you I had feelings for you and you've been avoiding me ever since," he said slowly. "And I really want to talk about it, because we're friends and something like that shouldn't come between us. And everything you've said since- And what Natasha said- I think that maybe-" He trailed off at the sight of Bucky's confused frown.

"No, I remember what you said. That's not what you-" Bucky shook his head. A strand of hair escaped his ponytail and fell into his face and he brushed it away. "I remember. You asked me whether I've ever thought about it, and then you said it was just a crush and it would go away. You never said you-" His eyes flickered to the side in the way that Steve knew meant he was trying to sort the fragments of memory. "No, you never said." He turned his gaze back to Steve's face. "I thought you'd finally figured out I…"

Hesitantly moving towards Bucky, Steve shook his head. "I meant I had feelings for you. I thought you were rejecting me." He itched to touch Bucky, but the other man was still using his arms as a barrier between them.

"You like women," Bucky pointed out weakly.

"So do you," Steve said.

"Yeah. I always liked you better than anyone."

Steve reached his hand out, rested it on Bucky's right forearm lightly, his gaze locked on Bucky's face. "I told you, you're the most wonderful man I've ever met." He trailed his palm up Bucky arm, to shoulder, to his neck. "And I want to- The only way I could get closer to you would be if you let me…" He stepped even closer, his chest brushing against Bucky's folded arms.

Bucky leaned back. He was shaking his head. "You don't- You missed me. You were afraid you'd lost me. I'm your only link to your-"

"No," Steve interrupted him because if he let him, Bucky would offer more theories about Steve's misinterpretation of his own feelings. "No. I know how I feel. I missed you, yes, and I never want to let you go. I want you by my side in every battle and wake up to your mess on my floor and your teasing. But I also want to never stop touching you, not because I can't believe you're real, but because I like the way you feel under my hands. And I really, really want to kiss you."

"Steve," Bucky said, his voice a broken sound. He closed his eyes and unfolded his arms in order to rest his hands on Steve's shoulders. "Steve. There's nothing I can give you. I've less to give you than when were teenagers and I had nothing much to offer then."

"Bullshit," Steve muttered. He rested their foreheads together, drawing circles with his thumb on the Bucky's skin of the nape of Bucky's neck. "You're everything, Bucky."

"I'm scars and nightmares and too much baggage."

"I love all of you," Steve replied in a whisper. "I love you, Bucky, and it took me too long to understand it, and if you really don't want me, then we'll figure out what to do. But if you're trying to be noble- Being stupidly noble is my thing and it doesn't suit you at all."

The corners of Bucky's lips twitched a little.

"I love you," Steve repeated again.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something. Then he shook his head slightly as if he changed his mind about what it should be. "Are you going to kiss me sometime this century?"

Startled, Steve chuckled before cocking his head slightly and joining their lips together, his eyes fluttering closed. It was a brief kiss, just enough to taste Bucky's mouth, to let him know he had meant every word.

"You kiss like you're going to war," Bucky said when they broke apart. But there was a hint of a smile on his face.

"Hmm?"

"That's the sort of a kiss you give someone to remember you by," Bucky said, shifting his hands to cup Steve's face. They were warm on Steve's skin, even the metal one. "Let me…"

Bucky's lips were dry and chapped when he captured Steve's bottom one between them. His tongue darted forward, teasingly licking Steve's lip. Steve circled Bucky's waist with his arms to pull him closer, pressing their chests together. Bucky sighed into the kiss. When he pulled away, Steve let out a disappointed sound. He collected himself quickly.

"Will you be my boyfriend, then?" he asked, absurdly more nervous than when fighting Hydra agents.

"That's so juvenile. We're in our nineties." Bucky wrinkled his nose. "I can be… your partner. That's what I've always been, anyway."

Chapter Text

Everyone in the Tower took it surprisingly well. Natasha repeated her warnings about Bucky's heart and Tony sent Steve some links that made Steve turn crimson and Bucky laugh, but otherwise the change in their relationship earned little reaction from the Avengers. Probably because it wasn't that much of a change to begin with and definitely an improvement over the time they had spent not talking. They still worked well together in field, perhaps better than before, and the only person who complained about their relationship was Sam, but only because Natasha directed her meddling ways towards him now.

They ended up turning Bucky's room into a studio only a few months later, though Steve didn't have as much time to use it as he would have liked. He did start painting again, though.

"You know what I'm thinking?" he said one day from behind his easel.

"That you're holed up in there when you could be in bed with me?" Bucky asked, shoving his head in through the door. Then he stepped in properly, walked behind Steve and looked at the half-finished painting. "I'm still not the best object for pictures," he said, when he saw that the painting was a detail of his arm. But he still hugged Steve from behind.

"The best one I know." Steve rested his hands on Bucky's arms. "I'm thinking that I want to tell the world how much you mean to me. What we have. Because I want everyone to know and because- Well, no one is getting arrested or dishonorably discharged anymore, at least here, but it's still harsh for people. It'd be the right thing to do."

"Always thinking of others," Bucky said, nuzzling his face into Steve's shoulder. "I can already see it. Captain America and his brainwashed assassin lover, the new gay role models."

Steve chuckled. "I'm not even gay," he protested. "Pan, I think."

"You lost me."

"As in pansexual?"

"Oh. Right." Bucky pulled away to look up the word not-so-sneakily on his phone. "We can do that, if you want. It can't go worse than my coming back from death."