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When Steve saw Bucky again, he wasn't sure what to think. They’d washed him up – the grease and dirt that had been all over him during their fight was gone, and he was wearing clean clothes. He could see Tony’s reinforced handcuffs glinting beneath Bucky’s sleeves, and the chains keeping him in the middle of the room, but if he didn’t focus on them, he could almost picture his old Bucky, leading the way through a crowd to go dancing with some girls.
Almost.
The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Steve. He had spent his entire pre-serum existence trying to get into Bucky’s world – a world where he could be healthy, help the war effort, and dance with women like it was his favorite thing to do. Now, he was standing behind one-way glass with his teammates, the picture of health and strength, looking at what was left of his best friend.
“You said he remembered you?”
Tony’s voice shook him out of his memories. “Right at the end,” Steve said gravely, “he looked at me. Something changed.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, shifting the bandages that were still wrapped around his wrist. “It’s not perfect, but I think he’s still in there.”
Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at Bruce. “You and I have some work to do. How do you feel about digging out that memory tech research I told you about?” Bruce looked relieved, like he’d rather be anywhere than 10 feet away from someone who recently tried to kill most of his friends. Steve didn’t blame him. The Hulk was a heavy hitter, but he could understand why Bruce avoided that option unless it was necessary.
As they disappeared down the hallway, Natasha took his arm. “Let’s clean you up.” His fists clenched, and he was pretty sure she could feel the resistance radiating off of him, but she unwrapped his fingers slowly until they were relaxed again. “Barton will watch him.” Steve tore his eyes away from Bucky and looked at her. Her shoulder was still bandaged, and she looked like she could use a few good days of rest, but he was willing to believe he looked worse. “Clint will watch him,” she repeated.
Clint took that moment to drag a metal chair across the floor, creating a horrible screeching noise that reminded Steve of the headache he had been nursing since he woke up. “Sorry,” he said. “But I’ll stay here. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
When they got to the Medbay, Steve wondered how he had been standing up the whole time. He nearly collapsed onto the chair that Natasha pulled toward him, and he closed his eyes while she went to get supplies. A few seconds later, she pushed something into his hands. “You need to eat.” He didn’t feel hungry, but he knew that his body was finally catching up to all the crazy things he did earlier. Even super soldiers needed their calories.
A water bottle crinkled as she set it down on a nearby table, and he opened his eyes again, surprised to see the bandages set out before them. “Nat, I know I got banged up pretty badly, but I’m already healing.” She smiled, an expression that came out a little genuine with a hint of pain.
“You battled a Winter Soldier and then fell 300 feet into the water. That’s hard to come back from.” She unwrapped the gauze bandages on his wrist, examining the lightly scraped skin below. “Your healing is slower than normal.” She threw the bandages away, settling for antibiotic cream and a band-aid. “And most of these are for me. Help me with this.” She led his hands to the wrappings on her shoulder, and he gently unwound them, revealing the bullet wound from earlier. As he cleaned the wound, they fell into a comfortable silence, with him replacing gauze and tape and her letting him care for her. One week ago, he never would have thought it to be possible. “How long have you known him?” She pointed her chin towards the ceiling, where Bucky was being held 20 floors up.
“Almost our entire lives.” He tried not to think about the years in between. “He was there for me when no one else was, always stuck up for me.” Steve laughed softly. “Even when he shouldn’t have.” Nat nodded, letting him speak. “Even during the war, when everything seemed bleak, he would crack a joke and made it lighter, somehow. When he fell, I –“. He cut off, holding back his breath and the memory. “I can’t get drunk,” he said, and Natasha nodded, and he knew she understood his meaning.
“It hurts, losing someone you love. It hurts more, not being able to forget.” His hand slipped, putting pressure on her shoulder and she grimaced in pain.
Steve dropped the gauze he was holding and moved his hand away. “I wasn’t in love with him.” He knew things were different now, but her words brought back memories of threats, of men with sticks and unkind words that sat outside certain bars at night, waiting for the occupants to emerge. “We were brothers.”
She looked at him, and there must have been something about the way he said it that made her believe him. “There are many kinds of love, Steve. We’re not going to reject you no matter how you feel. Tony and Bruce will figure it out. He’ll get better.” She picked up the gauze and finished wrapping her shoulder.
“Nat, I appreciate it, but I would know if I loved him like that. I would know if I loved men.” If there was anything he was sure of, it was that Bucky was a brother to him, nothing else. She smiled at him, then stood. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. The last time they were face to face, it had been for the escalator distraction kiss, and there hadn’t been enough time to think about it then, but Steve didn’t like Natasha. Not like that. He had a feeling she knew that much, at least.
Did she know it was the same with Peggy?
Before the war, when they were children, Steve and Bucky spent every moment together. As they grew up, they branched out – Steve to his art classes, Bucky to the girls. He always envied the way Bucky could charm any woman, but as a short, skinny teenager, he didn’t have many options. No girl would fall for him. He’d grown up expecting that he would be single for his entire life. But after the serum, girls started noticing him. They were forward and attractive and even kissed him a couple of times, but he started realizing that maybe it wasn’t his sickly frame that had been limiting his romantic endeavors. Maybe, he remembered thinking, he didn’t like women. Maybe the serum didn’t fix everything.
Then he crashed a plane into the Atlantic, and his priorities shifted a little bit.
Natasha had asked if he’d kissed anyone since waking up, and he’d told her the truth (not the whole truth, of course, but a simple question requires a simple answer). A few months after New York, he stumbled across a gay bar, left with a kiss, a phone number, and the realization that men didn’t really do it for him either. The entire encounter felt shameful to him, but he didn’t really fault himself for trying. Maybe if he liked men, he could have learned to accept that. Now, he was just drifting.
Natasha had left at some point while he was thinking, and a second granola bar was sitting in her place. He smiled and scooped it up on his way out, making a mental note to thank her later.
Maybe Nat got the idea to stop suggesting potential dates, but Tony didn’t. Even with Bucky in the building (and still in soldier mode, which didn’t really help their day to day feelings of safety), he flitted across the kitchen, naming friends, celebrities, and employees that Steve should check out. “Really, Rodgers, if Rhodey had to pick a dude, I’m sure you’d be somewhere on the list.”
“Tony, I’m not into guys. We’ve been over this.” Steve was just trying to have one normal breakfast, and Bruce silently laughed at him across the counter. “And I’m not going to date any of your employees.”
Stark shrugged, swinging his suit jacket on in a fluid motion. “I just don’t want you to be a 100-year-old virgin, Cap. I know you’ve got your whole ‘I’m from the 40’s, sex is scandalous” thing going on and it works for the public, but come on! Help me help you.” He scooped up his coffee mug and walked toward the elevator. “I’m late for a meeting, but I’ll have JARVIS email you a list. You still need a date for the gala next week!” The elevator doors closed, taking the high-energy man with them.
Steve turned around and looked at Natasha. “So, next week?”
She leaned back on the couch, rolling her eyes. “Anything to not go with Clint again.” She kicked him off the armrest.
“Captain, I have an email with a list of gala dates from Mr. Stark for you, would you like me to delete it?”
“Please, JARVIS. Thank you.”
As it turned out, the gala was a fundraiser for LGBTQ homeless youth. Steve probably should have known that earlier, but he had been called away on a mission for three days and only got back in time to pick out a suit. (“Red,” Tony had said. “We can match!” Steve had politely refused.) So now he was arm in arm with Natasha, wearing a very normal black suit against the backdrop of a dozen different flags. He recognized some of them, of course – it was difficult to walk through New York City without seeing a rainbow flag somewhere – but others were less familiar. He started to ask Nat to describe them, hoping she was more knowledgeable than he was, but they stepped forward into the crowd of reporters and flashing cameras.
“Captain America, how has the future been treating you?” A microphone was thrust toward him. Natasha’s arm slipped out of his, walking toward her own crowd of cameras.
“I’m still adjusting, it takes a little time to get used to the internet and modern technology.” He wasn’t really lying; he knew how to work a phone and the television and most of the household appliances, but every once in a while, something still surprised him.
“How do you feel about LGBT rights?”
“My personal opinions completely align with the press conference Tony Stark gave a few days ago. The Avengers are in full support of the LGBTQ rights movement. That’s one of the reason’s we’re holding this fundraiser.” Tony’s PR people had briefed him on how to answer questions, and this one was right out of the book. Easy question, easy answer.
“Captain, are any of the Avengers gay?”
Okay, he floundered. “I’m sorry?” The question was so boldly stated, something he never would have heard back in his own time.
“Are any of you gay? Or is everyone straight?”
His eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Um, I don’t know if I have that answer.” Tony’s staff hadn’t gone over this one, and he was lost. Steve didn’t have the easy charm and speaking skills like Stark, he tried to rely on his overall reputation as a hero with upstanding moral values.
“You don’t know?”
Natasha’s arm slid smoothly around his, and her smile cut off the reporter. “Tony Stark came out as bisexual over ten years ago. No other Avenger has made any public statement about their sexuality, but if they ever do, you all will be the first to know.” She turned to Steve, leading him towards the gala entrance. “Time to charm some donors.”
Tony was really doing all the charming, moving between groups of extravagantly dressed women and men who looked like they could buy a small country with their wealth. Bruce was sitting at the bar looking mildly uncomfortable, with a glass of sparkling water in his hand. They crossed the room to meet him, passing the same lineup of flags as before. As they sat, Nat spoke to the bartender, and Steve turned to Bruce. “I had no idea there were so many different sexualities. I mean, the flags are beautiful, but wow. Without Tony organizing this, I would have never known.”
Bruce laughed and lifted his cup in Tony’s direction, where the man was still surrounded with potential donors. “I didn’t know until last week, really. We’ve still been working with the tech for, um, Bucky,” he looked at Steve, who nodded, “but he’s been practicing his donor pitches and basically gave me a full rundown of everything you could want to know.”
A cup slid over the bar towards him, and Steve took it, nodding at Natasha in thanks. “So you know what all of these flags mean,” she said. “Could you tell us? I’m not as up to date on this as I should be.” They all turned toward the flag wall, relaxing back onto the top of the bar.
“The rainbow, you’ve both seen that, it’s kind of a catch all but also represents gay men.” Bruce pointed to the next one, a pretty gradient from pink to orange stripes. “That’s for lesbians, the pink, blue, and purple on is the bisexual flag, and the one next to it is the pansexual flag.” Steve nodded, happy he understood so far. “The pink, white, and blue one is the trans flag, and next to it is the non-binary one. For the last two, the one with the purple represents asexuality and the green represents aromanticism.” Bruce took a sip of his drink, the bubbles fizzing against the side of the glass. “There’s a bunch more, but only so much wall for the gala decorator to fill.”
“Hey, guys! Talking about the excellent interior design we have going on in here?” Tony swept in from the crowd, motioning for the bartender. “Of course, we couldn’t fit them all, so we put smaller ones on all of the tables.” He stretched an arm around Steve and grabbed a small object off the bar. “See? Little ones!”
Steve picked up the purple one. “Sorry, what’s this one again?”
“It’s for asexual people,” Tony grinned. Steve must have looked confused, so he continued. “It means people who don’t feel sexual attraction. It’s a spectrum, so there’s other identities there too but that’s the main meaning. And this bad boy,” he pulled a tiny flag with a green stripe out, “is for people who don’t feel romantic attraction.”
He kept talking, explaining each flag a little more in-depth than Bruce, but Steve stopped listening. No romantic attraction – that certainly sounded like him. It’s not like he had ever had a crush before. Falling in love didn’t seem to appeal to him the way it had to Bucky all those dancing nights so long ago. And sexual attraction? He hadn’t realized that was different than romantic attraction, they were supposed to go together. Steve lifted his glass to his lips and drained it, wincing at the taste of alcohol that wouldn’t do anything anymore. He thought of Bucky, and the last time he tried to get drunk, but this time, he felt a little hopeful.
Tony and Bruce were making progress. Bucky would get better. Steve had friends who trusted and supported him, and two new words that might help him figure out a little more about himself. That was more than he ever had in the past.
“Woah, Steve, eager to go somewhere?” Tony stopped rambling about the flags and watched as Steve put his now-empty glass down.
“Anyone want to raise some money? I have a feeling we can get a few more people to help out the cause.” He offered Natasha his hand, and she slipped off her bar stool.
“Let’s go,” she said, glass still in hand. “Maybe we can find Clint on the way. He does have such a way with directions.” They walked toward the crowd, and Steve smiled, his steps feeling lighter in a way they hadn’t before.