Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1962

They had both been there for several minutes already and the other man hadn’t said a word. Not even a hello when he got out of his car. Bucky kind of wanted to talk to him but if the man didn’t want to, it wasn’t his problem. He just stared at him, because the blond man wasn’t even looking up, so why bother being sly.

The man had blond hair and a blond beard, worn-out jeans, a simple yellow-ish coat and a cowboy hat that was the same color as his boots. Bucky smirked a bit, thinking about how his own boots matched his dark hat. He couldn’t tell whether the man wasn’t talking because he was reserved or because he was an asshole. First one, he hoped.

Bucky squinted to try to see the man's eye color from afar when he heard a car approaching. Anthony Stark, finally. It wasn’t the first time Stark employed him, but this year he really needed this job. Bucky was still glancing at the man, trying to figure out if he was nice. The guy took a quick peek at him. Bucky smiled to himself at the sight of the bluest eyes he had ever seen, filled with a certain softness.

Maybe he will like this summer a little better than last time.

Stark stormed out of his car and entered the small cabin without a look back. He slammed the door behind him. Silence settled once more between them and Bucky tried to catch the man’s eyes again, maybe to say something funny.

The door slammed open again before he could say anything, and Stark stared at them from behind his sunglasses, frowning.
“You guys come inside, yeah? What ‘r’you waitin’ for?"

Inside the wooden cabin, the stranger still didn’t look at Bucky, instead listening silently at what Stark was saying. The brown-haired man explained to them what they had to do this summer and Bucky rolled his eyes. He already knew all of that.

Watching after the woolies. A camp tender and a herder. One of them had to sleep in the tent, the other one with the sheep. Can eat together at the camp. Collect groceries once a week. Cowboy's life.

Stark was quiet now, his phone to his ear. Bucky didn’t move. Neither did the other. When he glanced at him, the man finally glanced back. They were both uncomfortable, but Bucky couldn’t help the grin on his face.

After a while, Stark finally looked at them again, eyebrows raised, glasses down his nose.
“Need anythin’ more?”

It wasn’t a question, it didn't need an answer. Bucky and the man left the cabin. They remained silent, both standing still in the dusty parking lot.

Okay , thought Bucky, trying hard not to sigh. We definitely need to talk if we want to work together.

He faced the man and held out his hand in a smooth motion.
“Bucky Barnes.”

“Steve,” said the man, hesitant as he shook Bucky’s hand.

Finally , he thought.

“Rogers,” the man added. He stared at him, his blond eyebrows frowned. “Bucky?”
“Real name James Buchanan Barnes. If you ain’t my Ma, you don’t call me that. So, Bucky.”

Steve Rogers fell quiet again.
Bucky was incapable of holding the gigantic sigh that got out of his mouth.
“Okay, Steve, come on.”

He grabbed the man by the shoulders, driving him towards the nearest bar. Maybe he wasn’t an asshole, but he couldn’t spend all summer with someone who had only said three words in half an hour and it was time to solve that problem.

It didn’t exactly work.
Bucky was talking alone, Steve sometimes nodding, mostly just staring at his beer.

“And that’s why he wants me to sleep with the sheep. Definitely didn’t like it when forty-two of them died last year.”
“What, did he expect you to control the weather?”

Bucky smiled. Steve still didn’t say much, but a sentence of more than three words was a start.
“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’, man. Try to tell Stark he’s wrong tho’, and tell me again when you succeed.”

Steve huffed, and looked at his glass instead of Bucky. The brown-haired man grunted.

“So, Steve Rogers,” he tried again. “What are you doin’ here?”
Steve shrugged, and shook his head.
“Same as you, man. Need money, that’s all.”
Yeah, no shit , Bucky thought.
“You do that often?”
“With the sheep? Nah, first time. Used to work with cows. Real cowboy here.” Bucky grinned at Steve’s joke. “Wanted to change a bit. Not too much tho’.”

Silence again. Steve really didn’t want to talk, it seemed. Bucky stared at him a bit while Steve’s gaze was still locked on his beer. Come on, pal, really?

All of a sudden, he pushed Steve hard on the shoulder, and the man jumped a little.
“Come on!! We’re gonna be together all summer, you’ll have to talk a bit or you’ll drive me crazy up there! Really, not a single little story about your Ma and Pa, somethin’, I don’t know?”
Steve was stunned at first as he apparently hadn’t expected the man to shout, but then cracked a smile.

“Yeah, finally, man!!” cheered Bucky, both arms in the air in celebration as he exaggerated his exhaustion.
Steve chuckled a bit.

“Nothing to talk about, really. My Pa died before I could know him. My Ma was great, but died when I was seventeen. I worked for her before, worked for myself after. End of the line.”
“And then?”

Steve frowned at him, as if he didn’t know what to say.

“Come on. How was your Ma? What was her name? Any siblings, cousins? Do you have a girl somewhere in Wyoming?”
Steve grinned.
“There’s not even a single woman in all of Wyoming.”
Bucky laughed.

“Nah, my Ma was great. Name was Sarah Rogers, kept the last name even after my father died. Tried her best to take care of me. I was a very sick kid. ‘Know you can’t see it now. Nearly died every winter. But then puberty hit crazy, and it was my Ma’s turn to get sick. Tried my best as well. She didn’t make it.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, pal,” he breathed out.
“‘t’s okay. How’s yours?”

“My Ma?” Bucky took a sip of his own drink. “She’s great. My Pa too. They’re in Texas with my three little sisters, Becca, Debby, and Diane, the younger one. Well, Becca doesn’t live with them anymore but she’s still in Texas, y’know. I’m from there too, came to Wyoming to work and rodeo.”

He paused.
“You ever rodeo?”

“Me?” Steve chuckled as if it was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “Nah man, that’s not for me.”
“Come on Steve, rodeo is for everyone! Don’t you like surpassing yourself? Havin’ a bit more money sometimes? Impressing pretty girls?”
“As I said,” the blond continued as he shook his head, “not a single woman in Wyoming. Only cows and farmers.”
“Fair.”

Silence again. He really had to try hard to force this guy to talk. He sighed and slid money on the counter.

“That’s on me. Come on, cowboy.”
He patted Steve’s back a bit hard. “We should go now, d’you have everything?”
Steve stood up quietly and nodded.

'Real cowboy’, Bucky thought with Steve’s voice. No doubt that he talks with cows more than with men.

***

Bucky looked behind him on his horse. Boy, was he right.

Steve was a different man in the middle of the wild fields, all big smiles and bright eyes on his horse with the sheep around. Way more talkative as well. He shouted variations of “Hey”, “Oh” or tongue clicking to the herd and the dogs, but he also sometimes looked directly at Bucky and asked him something along the lines of “Pal, look after your own lambs, I can’t do it for us both.”

And yeah, maybe, Bucky was a bit distracted. This guy was definitely intriguing. 

The blinding sun was high in the sky and illuminated all the vibrant greens of the mountains, all the wild flowers and the beige rocks. It reflected on the dirty white sheep as the herd finally arrived in the pastures, circling in between two copses and held back by the three sheepdogs.

Steve was sitting on the ground, even though the dirt was wet from a recent rain. He was cleaning the hoof of a sheep, which was trying to escape his hands.

Bucky looked at him from afar. He was gentle yet assured and wasn’t hurting the sheep, but he didn’t let it go either. Each one of his movements was motivated by love, not for the animal, but for the whole nature, the whole earth, for this work they were doing. He looked like he was in his element. Bucky wondered how this guy could live in a town.
He stared at the cowboy a bit longer as he petted lazily one of the dogs that had lain  down next to the log he had chosen as his seat.

In the middle of the tall grass, Steve was like a painting, his face sculpted and his movements slow.

Bucky finally looked away, closing his eyes bathed in the hot summer of July.

***

“Why the long hair?”
“Oh, look who’s asking questions now,” Bucky said in a jokingly harsh tone.

It had been more than a week since they first started to work, and Steve hadn’t said a word outside of the practical ones. ‘m gonna check on the sheep. ‘m gonna eat. ‘m gonna shower. Bucky had given up on making him talk, but he could swear to God that it would drive him crazy some time or another.

He was carrying water from the river which was only six or seven feet below their tent, lined with white pebbles that contrasted with the grass near their camp.

As for Steve, he was rebuilding their camp fire, because the stones were too dark and they stained everything, and they had both been going about their business for a while without speaking.
Bucky shrugged. If Steve wanted to talk now, he wouldn’t complain.

“I don’t know pal, cowboy life, you know. ‘cut it sometimes, and then I let it grow for one or two years. Pretty convenient.”
“You should grow a beard with it, to complete the look.”

Bucky smiled, brushing his stubble with his rough fingers.
“Nah, man. You can keep the beard.”

Bucky finished his task and he turned to Steve. They stared at each other without saying anything for a while. Standing in the breeze. Bucky turned away, uncomfortable all of a sudden, and his eyes searched around frantically for something to focus on that wasn’t Steve.
“ ‘m gonna take a look around, huh.”

The mountains around him were just hues of green. Even the rocks were reflecting the emerald shades, the yellow-ish tints.

The cowboy followed the river on his horse, listening to the rumbles of water and the clatter of nature everywhere around. Being alone far away from everything but in a place so busy with bugs, animals and insects was one of the best feelings he could think of. Nobody to worry about, but never lonely, nature being too lively to feel this way.

His thoughts became quieter as he followed a path and sank in between the pines, abandoning the passages he had already explored earlier this week. He let the forest grumbles invade his brain as the river flow became as quiet as his brain.

Letting his horse progress forward, Bucky closed his eyes. Every single forest scent flowed into his lungs and he felt breathless for a moment, emotional because of a je-ne-sais-quoi.
The man finally arrived at the edge of the forest, in a short-grassed clearing, and he came back to his senses. He decided to hitch his horse to a tree before laying down in the grass.

A single cloud covered the sun and he took the time to savor the chilly air a little longer.

When he came back, the vale had become darker after the sun had gone down, so he wasn’t surprised to see that Steve had lit up the fire at the camp, same as every night.

“Already ate?”

The blond man glanced at him from the log he was sat on before he answered.
“Yeah. Didn’t know if you would come back before the night. There’s still beans in here,” he announced, pointing at a can on the ground.
Bucky sat down on a log next to Steve’s near the fire.

“Thanks, pal.”
He ate the beans in silence, glancing at Steve when he wasn’t looking, until their gaze met.
Steve quickly looked away, playing with a stick on the ground, and Bucky cleared his throat.

“Were at the camp all day?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, ‘kay.”

Silence again.

It’s becoming a habit, Bucky thought bitterly.
“Followed the river with my horse,” he tried as he picked in the can with his knife. “Nature’s pretty here. The woods were a bit cool.”

“Yeah, ‘can believe it.”

“So erm. Did nothing at all?”

“Never said that.”
Oh come on. Bucky had seen those pretty smiles, the bright eyes, Steve’s relaxed body, his words coming more easily just a few hours ago with the sheep, exactly like every day. What was this guy's problem, huh?

He stood up, rather angry. He was doing his best to be friendly and all with this complete stranger, couldn’t he do the same in return? He didn’t even know why he was still trying. If Steve was an asshole, he could rot alone in his fucking sleeping bag. Bucky shouldn’t waste his saliva for a stupid bastard.

“ ‘Guess it’s time for me to go to sleep,” he mumbled between gritted teeth.
“Yeah, figured.”

Bucky walked toward his horse, trying to hide his rising anger. ‘Yeah, figured.’ Call me a slur next time. He kicked a rock on the way, and put everything he needed on the saddle, way too harsh on his horse.
He finally got on the animal’s back and directed it toward the sheep pastures without a glance back. Steve wanted to be lonely, well he would give him all the space he needed, he thought.

“Bucky?”

The man stopped his horse and turned around. He didn’t expect Steve to call him and his confusion chased some of his animosity away.
“Yeah?”

“Good night.” Steve peered at him with a soft gaze that reflected the flames in front of him.

“Huh,” Bucky gapped a little. “Yeah. Good night Steve.”

What was this guy's problem??

Quiet bleatings were coming from the herd as Bucky watched the stars, his head outside of the small tent he had installed for the night. The sky was dazzlingly beautiful, but his mind was not focused at all on its beauty.

His eyebrows were frowned, and his hands under his head as his fingers picked on his hair absent-mindedly.

Even though he was glad at first not to be alone this year, to chat with someone else or to share meals, he really didn’t know what to think anymore. He was so relieved on that first day to see a young guy instead of an old surly man, and now he didn’t know what to think.
Steve was so cold with him, what the fuck did Bucky do to him that the fuckin’ sheep didn’t?? Why was he so dry but twice a day he was nice to him like that??

Bucky turned heatedly and threw his blanket onto himself. Good night, he thought. Yeah, fuckin’ good night.

Chapter Text

In the morning, as he returned to camp when the sun only peered from behind the mountains, Bucky noticed Steve from afar.

The blond man sat cross-legged on a huge rock next to the water, in such a way that his face was hidden from Bucky who could only see his back and a bit of his profile. The man seemed absorbed in a task, like he was mending some clothes or washing something in the water, maybe. Intrigued, Bucky hooked up his horse next to Steve’s and headed to where the man was.

As he approached the river, its noise became more insistent, drowning every other sound around and he understood why the man hadn’t heard him yet. He finally stepped on the flat rock.
Now he could catch sight of what the other was doing, and, wow.

A little notebook sat on Steve’s legs, and a roughly-sharpened pencil was squeezed between his fingers. He was drawing a horse. Steve’s horse, Bucky realized instantly. It was so well drawn he could recognize it.

Bucky took a moment to admire the piece from afar. He could see every sketch line Steve hadn’t erased. He could see the light and the shadows, the warm Wyoming sun, faithfully transcribed even in black and white, and the slight mistakes in the equine’s anatomy. He followed the flow of Steve’s wrist as the man outlined the legs of the animal, mesmerized by how his hand tilted slightly to add shading, revealing the soft skin of his inner forearm.

The water reflected on Steve’s body as the sun finally rose and tinted his skin with cerulean touches. The scene looked like a painting. Again.

And that was not the first time, he realized as he recalled that last time in the pastures.
Another habit, huh, he thought for himself.

He grinned.
“Ah, so that’s what you were doin’ yesterday.”

Steve jumped and clapped his notebook shut.

“For fuck’s sake, you scared the shit outta me,” he blurted out as he straightened his legs and glanced at Bucky like he had just discovered his biggest secret ever.
Bucky gave Steve a shit-eating grin and walked around the man to sit next to him. Steve still frowned at him but he decided to act as if he didn’t see it.

“My lil’ sister’s an artist too. Drawing houses of the neighborhood, or my Pa’s face to make fun of him. That’s Becca, by the way. The older one.” 

Steve still looked tense, so he decided to pursue his ramble.

“Because I was the only boy of four, I had a whole different treatment than my sisters, so Becca is kind of the big sister for them. When I’m around tho’, I’m still her big brother or she’ll become bigheaded.”
He smiled at the thought of his sister.

“She was always a bit boy-ish when we grew up, and that scared my parents so much that when she declared she wanted to be an artist, they didn’t say a word. Finally, they thought, a girl's hobby! Now she’s married tho’, she has two kids. Two angels. She has to work to earn a living, but whenever I visit them she always has a new piece to show me.” 

He glanced at Steve. He seemed way more relaxed.
Almost like when he was with the sheep.

“I always forget that my little sisters are not that small now. Because I forget that I’m not young, either. Already twenty-five. Y’know, I understand why my Ma and Pa ‘re scared I’ll never find a girl. But yeah. Becca’s not the little girl I knew, she’s a twenty-two year-old woman. Diane is not the baby I could lift when I was eight, she’s engaged. Time goes fast, man, isn’t it scary,” he chuckled.
Silence came back between them. This time though, it was comfortable.

“I didn’t have any siblings growin’ up.”
Steve's voice was low when he began to talk, almost intimate. Bucky listened. “But I lived with my mom in my uncle’s house. He had two sons, both older than me. They were not my brothers. They did every dirty trick you can think of to me. Couldn’t do anything, my uncle would beat me, or even worse, beat my cousins and then they would be horrible with me the following days. Hated this man. I don’t know if he ever yelled at my Ma. She was his precious little sister so I hope not, but he also loved his wife while he beat her up every night. I don’t think I want to know. Anyway, my Ma died when I was seventeen, so I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
He breathed in.

“She’s the one that gave me this passion for art.”
He looked at the water in front of them. “Love drawing stuff. Y’know. My horse. The water. The tent. That’s what I do.”

He paused, as if he had finished his story. Bucky opened his mouth to answer but he didn’t have the time.

“My uncle tho,” Steve followed up. “What a real motherfucker.”

Bucky gaped at him before he burst into laughter. A real, genuine laugh. Steve peered at him and laughed as well, less loudly, but his smile showed all his teeth.

Bucky clapped Steve back and grabbed his shoulder to shake him slightly.
“Yeah man, finally! See when you want!”
Steve snorted, gently pushing Bucky away.
“Come on man, ‘am not that cold.”
“Fuck yeah you are, pal! Thought you were a cow in disguise. What have you said this whole week? Four words? Five? Talking about my hair??”

Steve laughed frankly again.
“Okay, I’m sorry Bucky.” 
His heart did a funny loop at how Steve said his name.

“Imma be honest, I kinda hoped I would be alone all summer. But… You’re nice, y’know,” he smiled shyly at him. “Thought you woul’ be one of those people, callin’ me a queer ‘cause I draw or somethin’.”
Bucky was too stunned to speak for a moment.

What do you even say to that?

“Yeah, no,” he articulated somehow. “All good, pal.”

Steve looked at him.

Bucky stared back.

Silence.

His eyes were really blue.

Steve held out his hand. Bucky frowned, confused.
“Sorry,” the cowboy clarified. “We should try again. Steve Rogers.”
Bucky grinned.
“Bucky Barnes, best cowboy of the country.”
“That would be me, actually,” he replied, still smiling.
“Whatever you want, pal,” Bucky joked.

The blond stood up and Bucky admired him from the ground. When he stretched his arms, his shirt revealed an inch of pale skin on his stomach. Bucky’s heart did something funny inside of him. Steve took off his hat to roughly comb his hair with his fingers, before he offered his hand, and pulled Bucky out of his daydreaming. The latter accepted the hand, feeling Steve's strength as he stood up.

“We should probably go check on the woolies, huh.”

Bucky looked at him, his eyes bright.

“We’ve got plenty of time. How ‘bout we go somewhere else before that?”

Their horses walked slowly side by side, following a path between the few trees in the vale and passing through wildflower fields. Every time Bucky took a peek at Steve, he noticed the man was smiling. A big, genuine smile.
They progressed slowly as the sun rose higher. Around them, the fields seemed endless, as if the mountains around couldn’t even contain them and their gold-colored plants. The horses’ footsteps blended with the sounds of the grass ruffling against their coats and the wind in the meadows.

Bucky smiled too.

The ravines succeeded to the fields, the copses succeeded to the ravines, and the screes succeeded to the copses. They didn’t say a word but they often looked at each other, giggling, and more than once Steve raced all of a sudden, his eyes squinted while the air lashed his face, Bucky screaming falsely upset shouts that faded quickly behind him. 

Bucky’s grin hurt his cheeks during his entire run after the other cowboy.

Steve waited for him at the top of a small cliff. He was staring at the horizon when Bucky arrived, his horse slowing down until it settled next to the blond man. Lower in the valley, they could make out the herd, miniature white clouds in the greenery.

“You cheated,” the brunet joked.
“Nah, ‘m just the best cowboy here, remember.”
Bucky laughed.
“Yeah, yeah.”

They contemplated the scenery in front of them for a while.

The horses ate grass, their muzzles next to the orange butterflies flying from flower to flower. In his peripheral vision, Bucky could see a buzzard hovering over the trees. Or maybe it was a kite, but he couldn’t, for the love of god, move his gaze to verify. Time seemed to have stopped and it was like they had been here for centuries. Wind ruffled his hair, clouds covered the sun for a moment, but he, Bucky, couldn’t move. Only his heart, beating hard in his chest, reminded him he was alive. His heart jumped and he wondered if Steve was feeling the same way.
And as he thought that, the spell was shattered. The man could move his head again, and the first thing he did was look at Steve, who was staring right back.

None of them spoke.

The silence was too sacred.

Besides, what was there to say? It was beautiful. That silence in the middle of the mountains, the nature living by itself all around them, profound reminder of their own short lives. So beautiful that Bucky’s eyes were wet, so beautiful that Steve’s heart was tight, but they were cowboys, they were men, and none of them knew how to say it.
So they stared at each other, eyes locked, and both of them knew what the other was thinking.

After what felt like an eternity, but a great eternity, full of air, grass and fresh new friendship, Bucky pulled on the reins, and both of them headed toward the pastures.

It was only when they reached the flock that they began to talk again, as if nothing had happened and they returned to their tasks like it was the beginning of the day.
They checked on the sheep, and decided it was best to move them soon to give them fresh grass, maybe the next day or the day after. They had already moved them twice, and they knew this time they would have to move their camp as well. After this talk, Steve went to check on the lambs that were grouped underneath the trees. Bucky then gestured to the dogs to gather the sheep so they could count them, and as he expected none were missing.

As the sheep scattered again with squeaky bleats, Steve declared he wanted to make sure one of the ewes he found weak was good, and Bucky headed to a flat rock to sit on while he waited for him. He took off his coat and his hat with a sigh, tied his hair in a ponytail and leaned on his hands as he enjoyed the sun. Some of his hair slipped out of the hairband but he didn’t mind, instead focusing on all his muscles relaxing pleasantly.

Best life ever , he decided.

He opened his eyes just in time to witness Steve walking toward him, and he thought:

Okay. Maybe this is the best life ever.

The blond sat down next to him and whistled one of the dogs so he could pet it, and said nothing again. But this time was different. Steve looked in the distance, a small wrinkle forming itself between his thick eyebrows. He wanted to say something, Bucky realized.

“What?”
“What what?”
“You wanna say somethin’.”
“Huh”, Steve seemed taken aback. “Yeah, huh, well…” he flashed a glance at Bucky. “Is it okay if I draw now?”

Bucky frowned.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
“Just wanted to make sure…” the man mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

Steve rummaged through one of his pockets, taking out his pencil and his small notebook. He flipped it open, and Bucky sadly noticed that he got a blank page on the first try. He kinda wanted to catch a glimpse of one or two sketches as Steve turned the pages, but no, not this time he thought.

The blond man started to draw right away, his shoulders tense, like he wanted to hide his activity from Bucky but also relax at the same time. He quickly captured the shapes of the sheep and the mountains behind the trees while Bucky quietly watched him.

He then chuckled and pointed at one of the sheep on the paper.

“Why does this one look like this?”
Steve glared at him, falsely irritated.
“I don’t have any erasers, okay.”
Bucky snorted.
“No but it looks really dumb, Steve.”
“That’s a sheep, no shit Buck!”
The brunet laughed out loud and didn’t pick up on the nickname. Steve huffed with a smile as he pushed Bucky on the shoulder.

Bucky figured it was the right time to ask.
“Can I take a look at your sketchbook?”
“You wish!” the other chuckled. “Nah man, ‘s not for the world to see.”
“Well, ‘m not the world, we’re alone here, Steve,” he said with a smirk.
“Right. ‘m not showing you, tho’.”
“Okay, okay,” the man surrendered.

Bucky breathed out and lied down on the rock, his hands under his head.

From this point of view, he could see Steve’s neck under his hair, moving smoothly every time the man looked up at the landscape. Bucky let his gaze wander, and with a grin, tried to imagine Steve’s body below the clothes. He had seen him, once or twice, when the other man had been showering, and he had been staring maybe a bit too long. Steve’s back was all muscles, his skin tanned by the sun was strewn with moles and freckles, and half daydreaming on the rock, Bucky tried to see the man’s spine under his shirt. 

He could have fallen asleep right there, but the idea of talking with the other cowboy woke him up.

“People call you a queer because you draw?”
“What is it with you and the big questions?” Steve replied.
“Well, if I ask you about your day you don’t say much. So I figured I had to try a different approach.”
Steve sighed.

“They called me a queer ‘cause I was small and sick, and ‘cause my dad wasn’t around anymore. And when I finally started looking like an adult, people still knew me as that one fag around the neighborhood. So, yeah, drawing didn’t help. ‘T’s why my cousins were so hard on me. ‘T’s also why I tried to leave home as soon as possible.”

“Mm, people judge quickly.”
“Yeah…” the man nearly whispered.
“You only draw landscapes?”
“Mostly.”
“You don’t draw people?”
“I’m not around people that much.”

“Well, you’re around me, now.” Bucky sat up back, his grin showing all his teeths. “You should draw me.”
“Nah, only draw pretty folks.”
Bucky gasped, falsely offended.
“Well pal, we’re alone here so I’m the prettiest around for miles and miles!”
“Even my dumb sheep from earlier was prettier than you!”

They bickered like children as the afternoon went by, shared stories, and Steve eventually stopped drawing to lay down with Bucky.

They both became quiet again, and while they both admired the sky, the only sounds around were the chirps of insects chorusing and Bucky chewing on a blade of grass.

“Well,” Steve began. “Time to go.”
“Mh-mh,” mumbled Bucky. He tried to glance at the man next to him without getting caught.

Steve turned his head.

Their eyes locked.

Bucky felt his heart beat hard in his chest.

The moment lasted for an eternity, and Steve didn’t look away. Bucky didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t looking away. Why wasn’t he looking away? He lost himself in the blue of his irises, trying to think. His eyes were really blue. And his lips really pink.

“Okay let’s go!” Bucky finally shouted, standing up faster than humanly possible, his face burning hot. He headed toward his horse while the dogs were gathering all the sheep once again. He didn’t look once at Steve as they walked toward the camp.

***

Today was the day they moved the herd and the camp with it. Steve was packing the tent while Bucky piled up their cans of food, then wiped out the fireplace and threw in the river the water that was still in the buckets. He grumbled to himself something about a short night and a stiff arm.

The sun was still low, the air still cool, and they walked with the animals, slowly, as if they had nothing to do apart from that.
And they did, Bucky realized. They did have all day, all summer, just him and Steve, them and the sheep with the dogs and the plants and the trees. He grinned at that. He guided his horse toward the other cowboy, who was looking at the sheep with his sharp eyes and his bright smile. Steve settled his speed to trot by his side.

“All good, man?” the blond asked.
“Yeah, in fact the dogs are doing all the job for us.”
“True,” Steve said. He really liked the dogs, Bucky had noticed. 

They finally settled in a new field and checked around to make sure the whole place was safe and had enough grass. They then headed for the river down in the valley. They followed the torrent and found a place that looked like their former camp, only with more trees around it, and here the river was wider and seemed deeper as well. The two of them set everything down, and when Bucky finally installed the last rock of the campfire, he was sweaty from the sun and all the stones he had carried from the riverbank.
When he raised his eyes toward the sky, it was almost noon, so he glanced at Steve.

The latter stretched, his own task completed. He seemed as sweaty as Bucky.
Their eyes met. Bucky lost himself in the blue of his irises and wondered if Steve thought the same thing about his.

“How ‘bout we go swimming? To get cooler?” the brown-haired man heard himself say. He didn’t know why he had said that. Well, he thought. Why not?

Steve’s eyes widened, as if Bucky had suggested to go to the moon, but he replied with a reserved smile.

“Y’know what, actually, that sounds good, man.”

Bucky grinned with all his teeth.

“Okay cowboy, let’s go then!”
He ran to the water without warning, laughing like a teenager and he heard Steve doing the same behind him. The man called him a cheater but he didn’t care.

He threw his hat and his shirt as he ran then struggled to take off his shoes and his pants. Bucky took advantage of the fact that Steve had to sit down to remove his second shoe and hurried into the ice-cold water, screaming when it reached his knees.

He plunged his head under the surface, his breath taken away by the freezing river.

He heard bubbles and the foam of the water, cut off from the rest of the world by the water flowing inside his ears. And then a huge splash. He returned to the surface, gasped for air, and saw Steve soaked wet, hissing at the freezing water. 
He dived underwater one more time to acclimate, and then both of them swam toward the middle of the torrent, full of laughs and shivers.

The current was surprisingly slow here, which meant they had to swim to maintain themselves at the surface, but didn’t need to fight against the flow. They looked at each other, smiled, and maybe Steve wasn’t the best with words but Bucky could swear his eyes were full of words and sentences he wasn’t saying.

“So…” Bucky began, mesmerized by the man’s gaze. Steve was really close. Maybe it was the flow that pushed him against Bucky.
“Yeah?” the man breathed.
They remained quiet for a second.
“I guess I won,” he finally said, all smiles.
“You fucker.”
Steve splashed him, and Bucky laughed.
“Guess you’re not the best cowboy ‘round here anymore!”

Steve yelled and pressed on Bucky's shoulder to drown him. The brown-haired man shouted a scream that rapidly turned into bubbles as he was pushed underwater. He emerged with a cough, and they splashed each other like kids for who knows how long, their hair stuck haphazardly on their faces, eyes burned by the water. Bucky eventually returned to the bank, feet slipping against the muddy pebbles, only to jump back right back in the water and create a huge wave. 

The sun was pleasantly warming their skin as they laid down next to the water, arms open and breath short, still giggling all the way down. Bucky closed his eyes. Steve’s breath was wheezy, interrupted by short giggles, and the brunet did his best to not think about how it made his heart twitch. He focused hard on the pebbles biting uncomfortably into his back, chasing the thoughts screaming in his mind that Steve’s fingers were only a few inches from his own hand. He couldn’t hear anything apart from the blood beating in his temples. If he just stretched out his fingers…

He stretched out his fingers.

Steve’s skin was still cold and wet from the water.

Bucky held back his breath. God, what was he doing? All his muscles went tense, he was as still as he could be, wishing time could stop right there. He felt Steve twitch. Don’t say anything, please don’t say anything. He thought. Please, don’t do anything.

Don’t hit me.

The blond man didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. Didn’t scream, didn’t hit Bucky. He remained silent. If it wasn’t for the tension in the air, Bucky would have thought the man hadn’t even felt him.

Minutes went by without any of them moving, time stretching impossibly. Bucky could feel his heart beat faster when he realized what was going on. Why didn’t Steve react? At least he would have known what to do. But now? What was he supposed to do?

After a while spent tormenting himself, he slowly turned his head on the ground, his wet hair all over the rocks. He looked directly at Steve who was still staring at the blue sky. He couldn’t read his facial expression. He seemed almost… Sad?
What should I do? He lost himself in his internal conflict again, biting his lower lip in anxiousness. He closed his eyes hard, trying to rearrange his thoughts. His mind was both blank and buzzing with too many thoughts at the same time.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?” he opened his eyes, his heart racing when his gaze met Steve’s who had finally turned his head towards him.

“D’you have a girl back home?”

His mind short-circuited.

“You asked me,” Steve added, his voice low. “But I never asked you.”
God, Bucky thought. Can’t he put those pretty eyes away when he’s talking. It was the only coherent sentence he succeeded to form in his mind.

“I, uh…” he had lost all his words. “No– I, no, I don’t have… Any girl.”

Steve stared at him without saying anything, biting the inside of his cheeks. Bucky felt electricity in all his body, as if he wanted to run, but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t take his eyes off Steve, off his skin washed by the river or the strands of wet hair on his eyes. And his lips. He couldn’t take his eyes off his lips.

Steve looked as lost as him, his face reflecting a ton of emotions without Bucky being able to decipher a single one of them. But his face had lightened up. He didn’t seem sad anymore.

“Well…” Bucky felt a shiver going down his spine at the sound of Steve’s voice. “Guess that’s great.”

The blond pushed on his elbows, finally detaching their fingers, clapped one hand next to Bucky’s face on the ground and the other on his cheek, and kissed Bucky. The cowboy breathed hard in shock, his hands grabbing Steve’s neck, his eyes closing as he moved his lips against Steve’s.

Something blew up in his chest and his legs got as weak as jelly when he felt Steve pushing his body on top of his own, their naked legs pressed hard together, and Bucky thanked his past self for having kept his underwear. Their lips didn’t stop moving and Bucky whined at the strength Steve put in the kiss. He pushed himself from the ground to sit up, Steve still perched in his lap, his arms naturally slipping to embrace his neck while Bucky slid his own around Steve’s waist. Their bodies were pressed so tight Bucky wouldn’t even be surprised if he went right through Steve. They kissed hard, they kissed fast, they kissed hot, lips parting open and tongues crushing, Steve groaning and Bucky feeling butterflies in his stomach. 

His hands all over Steve’s back, he could feel the burning hot skin, and finally he traced the outlines of those shoulder blades and spine with his whole hands.

Oh my god. Was all he could think of. He didn’t even understand how they got on their feet, didn’t even feel himself walk, before he was pushed inside the tent, pulling Steve behind him.

Chapter Text

Bucky stared at the fabric of the tent going up above his head, still panting. He could feel his face being warm and his heart still racing as he watched Steve standing up and fastening his belt. The man was avoiding Bucky’s eyes. But the brunet didn’t care, too focused on the cotton-like feeling around his brain and the warmth of his body.

Steve finally turned towards him and pulled Bucky out of his thoughts. The man saw Steve’s cheeks turn completely red in a second.
The brown-haired man became aware of what he looked like and he felt his own skin heat up. He lay on the mess that was Steve’s bed and blankets, arms spread wide, his underwear lowered to his knees.

Steve opened his mouth, trying to talk, but not a single sound came out.
Bucky grinned at him, his own embarrassment already vanished.

“... I put your clothes right there,” the blond finally mumbled while he pointed vaguely to the tent floor.
“Thanks,” Bucky answered without moving.
“ ‘m gonna– Just gonna check on the woolies.”

Bucky hummed in agreement but the other had already stepped outside, and a moment later he heard a horse going away.
He sighed, closed his eyes. He brushed his own skin on his stomach, shivering at the touch of his fingers. He waited a moment before he arched his back to put his underpants back on, with a whine when his weak legs began to tremble.

He could have gone for a second round.
Or, well, a third, he thought.

The man finally stepped out the tent, trying to button his shirt back on. Blinded by the sun, he squeezed his eyes when he looked up the hill. He could make out the white patches of the sheep in the distance, and four dark dots, which were the three dogs and Steve’s horse. Bucky put on his second shoe before he jumped on his horse’s back, leading it toward the path in the trees.

The forest around him was unchanged, cool and shady except for the light spots on the ground where the sun could enter the foliage. The sound of the insects and the leaves brushing his horse’s legs were identical to what it was before.
Everything remained the same. He breathed in hard, trying to figure out if it was a good thing or not.

When he reached the herd, he saw all the sheep asleep under the trees, waiting for the chill evening air to start eating. Two of the dogs were lying on the grass next to them, and the third one walked around the flock without scaring the animals. Reaching the brown horse which was grazing a little further ahead, Bucky glanced over the field rapidly, but Steve was nowhere to be found.
The cowboy whistled at a dog, patted his horse on the neck, and decided to go for a walk around the vale.

Steve was sat in the middle of long yellow grass, staring right ahead with a frown.

Bucky stopped his horse at the edge of the field, set both of his feet on the ground and headed toward Steve with the dog at his side. The place was quiet, the sun veiled by grey clouds, which turned the valley in shade and shut the insects down. Bucky's steps seemed astonishingly loud in this atmosphere.
Arrived at Steve’s level, he gazed in the distance with him, his hands deep in his pockets. The other man didn’t move his head nor his eyes, instead simply stretched out his arm to pat the dog. They both remained silent, their gaze lost in the scenery in front of them. The mountain seemed teal in the shadows, more blue than green. The rocks, high on the top, were shining in the only ray of sun.

“This is a one-shot thing we got goin’ on here.”
Bucky's heart missed a beat when Steve talked. He tried to reply, couldn’t, and sat down instead. His leg brushed Steve’s. He shivered.

“It’s nobody’s business but ours,” he finally articulated.
Steve glanced at him before turning his head to the vale again.

“You know I ain’t queer.”

Bucky’s guts writhed.

“Me neither.”

A gust of wind waved the grass and their hair sticking out of their hats, and they stopped talking. Bucky sighed and stretched out his arm to pat the dog alongside Steve. Their hands touched, and they stopped moving, simply scratching the dog’s back, their pinky fingers pushed together.

Time went by.

Sun pierced the clouds but left behind the mountain almost immediately, and the air dropped several degrees cooler.

It was time to go.

Bucky stood up, dusted his pants off and then offered his hand to the man on the ground. Steve glanced up at him before he clapped his hand in the other’s. They walked slowly in the fields and between the trees, Bucky lazily holding the reins on his horse. Surprisingly enough, the moment wasn’t awkward. But both of them definitely needed silence.

They reached the herd, checked on them for real this time, and headed back to camp on their horses.

They were both sat on the logs around the fireplace, Bucky playing with a stick in the fire waiting for the beans to heat up, Steve drawing in his sketchbook.
The man threw his stick in the fire and lay his head on his knees with a sigh. If his head was tilted perfectly toward the blond cowboy, it was certainly on purpose. Steve’s hair looked like gold in the firelight, bright against the darkness of the night. His skin looked like gold, he realized as he lowered his gaze. He wondered if he should talk. Neither of them had said a word since their discussion in the field.

He decided to take a moment to admire Steve a little longer.
The flames outlined his fingers in a red-ish halo, sometimes making them disappear in the dark.

“D’you even see anything?”

Steve smiled. Bucky’s heart looped.

“No, actually. Plus, this fire is fuckin’ moving man, can’t it stop for a minute?”
Bucky laughed quietly.
“Not how it works, pal.”
“No shit,” he answered back, smiling.
Bucky tried to sneak an eye over to the little notebook, but he was right, he couldn’t see shit.

They ate the bean cans, talking lightly about the valley or the herd.
It was now bedtime, and as every night, Bucky was supposed to go sleep with the sheep in his small tent. But not this time. He stood up and stretched, trying to act like he didn’t notice Steve’s gaze on his stomach as his shirt went up, and slowly, he walked to the tent. He opened it and sat inside, faced Steve, grinned, teasingly flexed his shoulders and finally, opened his legs.

“Aren’t you supposed to sleep with the sheep?” Steve breathed, staring at Bucky’s body.
“They’re gonna survive one night without me.”

Steve practically jumped on his feet, and Bucky only had time to blink before the man was kneeled between his legs, his face only inches from his own. His heart sped up so fast he swore he died for a moment.
“You’re right,” Steve breathed.

Time froze. And when it unfroze, Steve’s lips were on Bucky's skin, and they fell back in the intimity of the tent.

Later that night, Bucky was fully awake and fully naked in the darkness of the tent, which was only pierced by the pale gleam of the moon. Steve was pressed against his side, his hot skin against his own, asleep.
Bucky sighed as he lay his free arm on his eyes.

Fuck, he thought. I’m so queer.

*** 

The sound of hooves resonated between the trees, and Bucky turned around, putting his pants on in a hurry. He had taken advantage of Steve leaving to get their rations to wash his clothes in the stream. The man winced at the sensation of the still-wet fabric around his ankles, but buttoned it up before Steve arrived. The blond man emerged from the copse on his horse and stopped, looking right at Bucky, bemused.

“I think you should see this, pal,” he said as he jumped off his horse.

Bucky frowned before he headed towards Steve barefoot, wondering what that was about. Every time Steve had come back from getting rations, he hadn’t said a thing. Even if he was more talkative since they had swum together one week earlier, he was still a quiet guy. As he moved closer, he saw Steve taking something from the saddle, but it wasn’t until he arrived next to him that he clearly saw what it was. His eyes went wide.

“Erm,” Steve began. “Are any of the dogs female by any chance?”

In his arms rested a tiny light brown puppy, its head searching around frenetically, with big brown eyes contrasting against its light fur. Its tails wagged, and its tiny claws sunk into Steve’s shirt, desperately trying to break free from the man’s arms.

“What, no- No, they’re all male, god, Steve, where did you find that?” He asked, patting the puppy on its black muzzle.
“In the woods.”
“What, really?” Bucky said, stunned.

“Yeah, in the middle of nowhere in the valley. I wanted to go for a walk after getting the cans, close to the cliff where we raced, you remember? But as I walked, I saw her spinning around a tree, all alone. I looked around but found nothing but her, and I couldn’t leave her there so I turned back.”

Bucky gaped at him.

“She was just… There? Wait, it’s a she?”
“Not sure, but I think so,” Steve replied.
“So should we… Should we keep her?”
“Of course we’ll keep her.” Steve frowned at Bucky. “She can’t live by herself in the woods.”
“I know, but maybe she belongs to someone??”
“Bucky, we’re the only ones here, I don’t even know how the fuck she got here.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, that just… Doesn’t make any sense.”

The blond man shrugged. Bucky sighed. Steve wasn’t even looking at him this whole time, his gaze was all on the puppy, a fond smile on his lips.

“Okay,” he let out another sigh. “We keep her.”
“Thanks!”

The brunet walked toward the water. A puppy, he thought. A fucking puppy. In the woods.

He heard the sound of fabric ruffling when Steve lifted his head.

“Wait,” the latter shouted. “I already said that we’re keeping her, why am I thanking you?”
Bucky smiled wide as he picked his shirt from the ground.

They spent the day admiring the puppy. They brought her to the herd, and introduced her to the dogs. One of them was an anatolian shepherd exactly like her, and his height compared to the smallness of the puppy was ridiculous. The two others, two black and white border collies, sniffed her all over before they lost interest and walked away.

The cowboys let her run in the grass while they sat on a flat rock close to her. She fell countless times, making the two men burst in laughter. After some time, Bucky lay down to enjoy the sun, but Steve watched her the whole afternoon, sometimes shaking Bucky’s arm, shouting things like : “Did you see that?? She caught this butterfly, she’s so smart!!” or “Wait Buck, that’s too dangerous she’s gonna hurt herself, she could die,” before running toward the puppy to help her get down from a four-inch tall rock.

When the sun set, they headed to camp, and Steve showed Bucky how good she was as she stood on the horse without falling. The walk was three times longer, Steve wanted to be extra careful so the dog wouldn’t fall. Bucky said they would have been faster on foot, but Steve argued she needed to train if she wanted to ride often with him. Bucky didn’t say anything and smiled. After all, they had all summer.

Later in the night, Bucky was stretched out in the tent, listening to Steve playing with the puppy right next to him. The dog was really cute, he thought as he turned on his side, but damn, he really wanted to fuck Steve.

***

They moved the herd the following day. They led the animals in a field on the other side of a long thicket, rode the horses slowly under the warm sun. The puppy slept on Steve’s horse, and everything was like every day since they were here, in the quiet brouhaha of the mountain. They were shouting to the flock, whistling to the dogs, the sheep bleated, the insects were loud as noon was coming around, but that was soothing, that was quiet. Like a bubble around them, around Bucky’s ears, around his heart.

They stopped the horses and the sheep so all the animals could graze, and they looked at each other, smiling as soon as their eyes met. Steve threw his head back, squinted his eyes when the sun dazzled him, and Bucky admired the man’s face a moment before he followed his movement, a hand on his hat so it wouldn’t fall.

And then, Steve yelled. A loud, deep scream that came right from his chest. Bucky stared at him, taken aback. Steve straightened his head as he stopped and looked at Bucky with a huge smile on his lips, and screamed again, raising both of his arms in the air, fingers facing the sky. The brown-haired man had a nervous laugh that rapidly morphed into a frank one, and he faced the sky with Steve, yelling with all his lungs. He heard Steve trying to refrain from laughing in between his screams, and when he caught a glimpse of him, he saw the puppy fully awake, trying to climb on Steve’s shirt. They laughed loudly for a long time, the puppy’s tail hitting Steve’s face as the man tried to calm her. That was great, Bucky thought.
That felt right.

They finally caught their breath, still chuckling.

Bucky was tempted to ask, “What was that?”, but at the sight of the bright smile on Steve’s face, he didn’t say a word. Instead, they gazed at each other, and both of them pulled on the reins. They had somehow silently agreed to walk toward the copse in front of them. The herd didn’t need them here.

Their walk was slow, they weaved in between the trees and the rocks, going through fields and mountain streams. They stopped multiple times, either to point at birds of prey gliding in the air in front of them, or so Bucky could help Steve catch the puppy that randomly decided to climb on the man’s back.

They finally arrived at a field with a huge tree in its centre. The grass was all green, shining in the wind like the sea, and the grass blades brushed Bucky’s boots when he jumped off his horse in the shade of the pine. He contemplated the view, both hands on his hips.

During all his time in the mountain, his back had hurt from sleeping on the floor, but the pain seemed to have magically disappeared here. The air was flowing into his lungs freely, and his mind was clear. It was devoid of all the thoughts that were not beautiful sceneries and handsome cowboys.

He drew himself out of his thoughts.
“Steve, look at that. Isn’t it the perfect place to draw? You took your notebook, right man?”

A shiver went down his spine when he felt a huge hand on his own near his hip, followed by a head on his shoulder.

“Don’t think I want to draw right now, Bucky…”

The man closed his eyes as Steve’s hand slid on his stomach, playing with the button on his shirt. His heart was racing in his chest, ready to explode.

“Yeah?” he breathed. “What do you-”
“Shut up, Buck.”

He tilted his head. His lips met Steve’s, and he breathed hard. He sled against the blond’s body to face him and kissed harder. Both of his hands set down on Steve’s cheeks, his skin against the man’s dense beard. Steve’s hands were on his hips and he wasn’t thinking straight, feeling so dizzy with euphoria that he decided to kiss even harder so the other wouldn’t feel his arms shaking.

A water drop landed on his hand.

He stopped the kiss, just to see Steve’s face covered in tears.
“What-”

Steve hugged him hard.

Without thinking twice Bucky returned the embrace, and both of them fell to their knees, Steve’s sobs loud in his ear. Bucky’s throat was tied shut by tears. He caressed the man’s back slowly, the harsh fabric of his shirt scratching his fingers, and tried his best to find the right words. Nothing came out of his mouth.

Maybe there was nothing to be said.

Minutes went by, and then hours.
Tears ran dry at some point or another, shoulders stopped shaking, and subtle smiles came back.

Bucky lay on his back in the grass, Steve pressed himself against his side and the puppy, who had figured out how to jump off the horse, slept above their heads. Bucky petted her lazily, his eyes lost in the blue sky shattered by the outline of the branches.

“I,” Bucky’s voice was still hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Sometimes, I would want this life to continue forever.”
The other didn’t answer. He winced, an awkward feeling crawling under his skin. Fuck, why did I say that.

The wind brushed their skin.

“When we come back to the camp…” Steve’s voice was low. Bucky shivered. “Could I draw you?”
Bucky intertwined their fingers. All the embarrassing feelings disappeared.

“Of course you can, of course.”

***

“Where do you want me?”

It had already been six weeks since they had started to work together. Three weeks ago was the first time Steve had asked to draw him, under the huge tree, and it was now a recurrent activity to pass the time. And if he was being honest, Bucky loved it . 

The day was warm, too warm, and both of them were covered in sweat. They had moved the herd next to a tiny stream that winded between grey rocks, hence why both of them were shirtless, their boots scattered in the grass, their feet plunged in the freezing water.
Steve had his little notebook on his knees, a pencil in hand, while Bucky was sitting across from him on the other side of the stream. His pants were wet from playing in the water with the puppy, and his long hair was not drier. The dog, now named Captain by Steve, was sleeping in the grass, snoring loudly, exhausted from earlier.

“Why Captain?” Bucky had asked.
“Well, when she’s older she’s gonna do great things!”
Bucky had laughed.
“Y’know she’s a dog, right?”
Steve had made a face to him, and had covered the puppy’s ear.
“Don’t listen to him, Cap, he’s jealous.”
Which had only made Bucky laugh more.

“I kinda like it there,” Steve declared, reminding Bucky that he was supposed to model for the cowboy. “If you can keep this pose for a little while, and could you…”Steve got on his feet and walked in the water to reach Bucky. He kneeled down on the rock, very close to the other, and took his jaw in between his fingers.

Bucky felt his breath being cut short as Steve looked in his eyes, his gaze intense and his palm hot. Gently, the man pushed his head on the side.
“Yeah,” he murmured, “That’s the angle.”

Bucky took advantage of the fact that Steve wasn’t in his line of sight anymore to catch his breath. He felt his skin burning, and it wasn’t from the sun. Flustering like a damn teenager, c'mon man.
“ ‘s it painful for you?” Steve asked.
“No, yeah that’s fine.”
“Great.”

Bucky could hear the smile in his voice. His stomach did the thing.

Soon, the sound of the pencil mingled with the noise of the water, and silence settled between the two men.

Bucky tried his best to focus on the roughness of the rock under his fingers, the warmth of it contrasting with the temperature of the water, but he couldn’t resist. He turned his eyes, trying to peek at Steve without changing the angle of his neck.

And what a view, he thought.
He could see Steve’s torso, his tanned skin and his muscles underneath, covered by a blond fuzz. He observed his hand and his arm, moving fast to trace the lines on the paper. He could feel Steve’s gaze on his own body from time to time, gazing at him for less than a second to capture the global shapes of his face and limbs.

Bucky was turned on.

He was not supposed to be turned on.

He looked away again, trying to think of something that was not Steve’s body or strong hands. His mind traveled fast through his memories of their time together in the valley, the sheep, the dog, the camp, their talk. Every day since it had happened, he thought about what Steve had said.

"You know I ain’t queer.”

And how he had lied when he had replied. 

“Me neither.”

What was he supposed to say?
And Bucky hated himself for that because, oh, how he wanted to be queer with Steve. But he couldn’t say that. Because Steve didn’t want that, because that was a one-time thing, because at the end of summer they wouldn’t see each other again. Thinking about that made Bucky sick. 

But at least now he wasn’t half-hard in his pants because he, in fact, really wanted to cry. He wasn’t sure what was worse.
He looked at the man again, and breathed out. Steve was there for now. Bucky didn’t need to think about the future. He’ll be sick later.

“C’mon man, stop moving.”
“Sorry!”

Captain eventually woke up and immediately jumped on Steve to lick his face. Both men laughed, and Bucky took this as a hint he could move. He stood up to stretch his back.

He then walked towards Steve, and as he did so, he grinned.
“Can I see the drawing?”
“Y’know I hate showing it.”
“Aww, does that mean no?” he said in a false pleading voice, sitting next to the man.

Steve sighed, a grin peaking near the end of his lips, and handed his open notebook.
“Only this one.”

Bucky smirked, because Steve always said the same thing, and took the book in his hands.

On the paper he could see himself in the pose he just held for Steve, fully shaded and covered in details. He was now used to seeing himself like that, like a nearly-perfect picture glued to the paper. Sometimes his eyes were not straight. Sometimes his nose was longer. It was fun.

The wind rose all of a sudden, and he didn’t have time to stop the pages from getting flipped over. Scared it would get damaged, he pressed his hand in a hurry on the paper, preventing them from turning more than they already did. He lay his eyes on the new pages, and his heart skipped a beat.
There were multiple sketches on the page, very different from the ones he saw before, all blurred with dots for the eyes and a line for the mouth, but all of them were without a doubt drawings of Bucky. He was sitting on his horse, or taking care of an ewe. Next to it, on the other sheet of the double-page spread, another drawing of him, seemingly at the beginning of the summer, lying down in tall grass. 

He ran his fingers over the paper trying not to smudge the drawings, mesmerized.

He wasn’t used to that form of affection. He wasn’t used to being seen, to being looked at, wasn’t used to having his body be appreciated in all its forms. His face and his lips, his skin hidden under his clothes, his hands appreciated for their shape and not only for the work he could do with them. His defined muscles when his shirt was just a grey mess. His hair looked so soft there, just two or three strokes around his face, drawn in a rush.

He jumped when the sketchbook was ripped from his fingers, tearing him from his thoughts. The brown-haired man raised his head, only to find a frowning Steve in front of him, his sketchbook disappearing quickly in his pants’ pocket.

“I said, don’t look.”
His face sported an upset expression, and Bucky couldn’t tell whether the man was angry at Bucky for looking at his drawings, or embarrassed by himself.

“Sorry,” said Bucky, getting up. “Didn’t want to upset you, pal.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on.”
Steve took Captain in his arms and jumped on his horse. Bucky looked at him walk away, to the camp, and took his head in his hands as he sighed.

Chapter Text

The inevitable happened.

The two cowboys stood, Steve with his hands in his back pockets, Bucky with his arms crossed tight. His face was expressionless as he stared right in front of him. On the ground, around 30 feet from them, lied a sheep, its legs facing the grey sky. Its stomach, cut brutally from head to toe, showed its red guts, half-eaten, half-scattered on the floor, mixed with deep red blood that colored the green grass black.

Bucky felt sick in his stomach. Of course it was gonna happen, he was so stupid. He was even surprised it didn’t happen before. They had spent all their nights together for weeks now.
Stark didn’t ask for him to sleep with the herd for nothing. He was so, so stupid.

The wind rose, making his hair lash him hard on the face, and the clouds became darker. The rain is coming, Bucky thought. Soon, all this mess will be drained from the mountain, and the only thing left would be his remorse.
They stood there, neither of them moving. Bucky could feel Steve wasn’t as affected as he was himself, he could feel the tension in the man’s body, like he was just waiting for Bucky to speak.
It only added to his sourness.

“Shit,” Bucky finally spat, and his word stayed suspended in the silence.

Thunder resonated in the distance.

“Poor thing,” Steve added quietly.

Bucky kicked a rock, angry at himself.
“Shit!” he repeated, louder.

He walked toward the body and chased away the dog that was next to it.
“Go away, you stupid dog! Go guard the fuckin’ flock, yeah?!” He crouched down next to the sheep, his face in his hands.
He breathed hard. He had seen a lot of dead animals. Lots of dead sheep. He had killed plenty of them. But this one shouldn’t have died.

Not while he was supposed to take care of them. Instead of sleeping with a stranger.

He heard footsteps behind him. Steve.
“We have to bury it, Buck.”
He stood up, his body still turned away from the blond man.

They buried it away from the herd, in the forest, to make sure no raptors would come. They found the fox that attacked it, prowling around. Killed it. It didn’t help. Bucky was still angry.

They ate in silence that night. Steve didn’t even draw. When they finished their meals, Bucky took the small tent and headed towards the herd on his horse, without a single “good night.” Like good ol’ times, he thought bitterly. 

Alone in the middle of the field overhanging the sheep, far from warm arms around his body, sleep fled him for hours. The rain struck him in the middle of the night, raindrops blending with his tears.

***

When he woke up the next day, the sky was a faded blue, verging on purple. He hated when the sky was like that. Seemed unreal. Out of time.

Steve was there. Next to the sheep, a hundred feet from him, and of course he was drawing with the puppy on his lap.

Bucky stood up.

When he reached him, the man looked up, and they gazed at each other. They didn’t say a thing. Steve seemed to wait, wait to see how Bucky was this morning, not sure whether the brown-haired man would yell or laugh with him. Bucky’s guts knotted.
He had been the first to reproach his indifference to the blond cowboy. All of this was now quite ironic.

That is why Bucky offered his hand to Steve. The other cowboy flashed a grin and took it to get up, and a moment later they went for a walk on their horses. Captain was walking ahead of them, she had to sprint to be as fast as them.
The fields were soaking wet from the rain, shining under the early sun, becoming even greener than before. They didn’t talk.

It’s weird.

Bucky breathed in, closed his eyes.

It’s comfortable, too.

He liked it, but at the same time, it felt too much like their early friendship. All quiet and mysterious, strangers to one another. He glanced at Steve.
Were they more than strangers now? Deep down, what did he know about this man? His throat tightened. He didn’t want to think about it.

They walked for hours, Captain now soundly asleep on Steve’s saddle, and returned to camp under driving rain. They ate beans and meat in the tent, shirtless, watching absent-mindedly their clothes while they dried. Thunder rumbled really close, which scared the puppy, and the heavy raindrops morphed into hail.
Both of them looked outside, hands on their hats so it wouldn’t fall.

“Oh for fuck’s sake”, Steve shouted to cover the noise from the ice falling. “Did we need that, really?”
“Them sheep will drift if I don’t get back up there tonight!!”

They had to hold the entrance of the tent, the wind was too strong.

“You’ll get pitched off your mount in a storm like this!” Steve yelled as he holded out his hat, huge hailstones falling into it. “Look at that, man!”
Bucky felt a lump in his throat. That storm was shit, but he already missed Steve’s voice after a day and he wasn’t sure he could survive another night.

“It’s too cold!” Bucky finally said. “Close it up!!”

In the closed tent, the noise from the hail storm was deafening. Even if they had wanted to talk, it would have been impossible.

They spent the rest of the day petting Captain and trying to teach her some tricks, unsuccessfully. When she decided to sleep, they lied down on their stomachs with her, petting her until she snorted.

Then, they made out.

***

People yelled, bells ringed everywhere, dogs barked.
Bucky and Steve sighed in unison. They gazed at each other and laughed. With the storm of the night, another herd had mingled with theirs. 

Fuckin’ Chileans.

He didn’t even understand where the fuck those guys came from, they hadn’t met anyone in weeks. One time, they had seen another cowboy, alone with his sheep far away from them. They had waved without even distinguishing his face, and the man had continued on his way.

But now, Bucky winced. Too many people.
The two Chilean men were shouting to their sheep, waving their hats, while Steve and Bucky watched them from afar, slumped on their saddles.

There was no rush, and the simple idea of cooperating with these guys made Bucky’s head hurt.

“What are they even trying to do?” Steve asked mockingly.
“Don’t know, man. But that sure doesn’t work.”
The blond man sighed.
“What are we supposed to do now, huh?”
“Get on in there eventually,” Bucky replied, weary. “And untangle ‘em Chilean sheep out of ours, I guess.”

They looked ahead of them in the field, where hundreds of animals were bleating.
They sighed.

It took them the whole day to find all their sheep, interrupted by showers of cold rain. The two other cowboys were not helping at all, they screamed at the animals for whatever reason, and Bucky cursed at them every time he had to pull one of the sheep by its legs while it struggled to get out.

“Raaaah!!” Bucky screamed while pulling another of the sheep. “Half the goddamn paint brands have worn off!”
Steve was laughing at him from the side.

“We gotta try. The least we can do is get the count right for Stark.”

“Fuck Stark!!” Bucky yelled.

“Oh yeah, fuck Stark”, the other laughed again, “And what if we need to work for him again, huh? You think of that? We gotta stick this out, Buck!”

“And fuck you too!” Bucky added. “Get off this fuckin’ horse and help me!!”

“Nah, man,” Steve grinned. “Gotta keep Cap safe,” he added and pointed at the puppy sitting with him, her tail wagging.

“Fuck you, Steve Rogers!!”

The cowboy burst into laughter. 

The sun was setting when they finally went away with the herd. The others were really not the smartest, so they decided to move their animals and let the Chilean ones where they were.
The vale was painted with orange lights as they walked, highlighting each blade of grass on the ground and each hair on Steve’s head. 
No sheep were killed by the hail that night. Or maybe they took one or two sheep from the other folks. They didn’t even know. Stark didn’t need to know either.

Captain ran around the herd with the other dogs, barking like her life depended on it. Bucky smiled softly. He liked her.

As they walked, another shower fell down on them.
“Man, really,” Bucky grumbled, hunching his shoulders. Everything became soaking wet in a second.

***

Bucky woke up freezing cold. He jolted awake when he realized that it was not the air that was cold, but the snow, spread everywhere on his face. The rain had stopped when he had gone to sleep, but he definitely should have put his head in the small tent. He wiped his face with his hands as he tried to somehow get up.

“Fuck, man,” he articulated, still dozy.

His blanket thrown over his shoulder, he walked toward his horse, each step making him sink a bit more into the snow.
His hat pulled down, his hair over his ears to try to protect them and shoulders hunched, the cowboy went to the hoolies, checking on them. As he expected, all of them had headed to the thicket next to the field to protect themselves. He sighed and decided that the dogs did their job. After the previous day, he really didn’t want to sort out the sheep in the middle of the pines.

Instead, he headed to camp.
Still moody, he tried to cheer himself up with the beauty of the scenery in front of him. 

The mountains were covered in white snow, and the green pines looked black underneath it. Like a black and white picture, where the only color was the warm orange of the rock on top of the mountain illuminated by the rays of sun in the blue sky. Everything seemed still, as if life had decided to take a break for a night.

Dazzled by this sight, Bucky stopped his horse and breathed in hard.

And coughed when the freezing air entered his throat.

When he reached the river, Steve was squinting against the cold, already awake. His cheeks and nose were red while the rest of his skin was as pale as a ghost. Bucky’s heart missed a beat. He really wanted to kiss him, right now.

“What the fuck is going on,” Steve joked.

The blond man decided to go check on the herd for real, but Bucky knew it was an excuse to let Captain play in the snow. He stayed at camp, getting their stuff out of the snow, and as the sun warmed up the vale and the snow started to disappear, he sat on a rock to clean his muddy boots.

The sound of hooves came from upstream so Bucky raised his head, all smiles, expecting to see Steve.
But it wasn’t Steve’s horse, nor Steve riding it. Anthony Stark, in a warm wool jacket, headed towards him. Bucky got up on his feet and frowned. Why was the man here?

“Barnes,” the man said when his horse stopped next to him.
“Stark,” he answered. “Everything good?”

Steve came back hours later, smiling brightly with Captain in between his legs. He frowned when Bucky entered his field of vision.

“What are you doin’?”

Bucky glanced at him before he returned to his work, disassembling the tent.

“D’you want to move the herd? Didn’t we do that yesterday already?” Steve continued, doubtful.
The heavy hessian of the tent fell on the little bit of snow that remained, and Bucky gritted his teeth.

“Stark came by.”
Steve glanced at him while helping Captain jump off the saddle.
“Everything good?”
Bucky tackled the task of folding the tent, doing everything he could not to look at the other.
“Said bring ‘em down.”

He heard the footsteps stop abruptly behind him.

“Bring ‘em down? Why? It isn’t even the end of August. Aren’t we here for all of September?”
“Says there is a storm coming, movin’ in from the Pacific. Worse than this one.”
“That snow barely stuck an hour.” Steve's tone was dry.

Bucky didn’t answer, focused on his task.

“Besides,” Steve added after a moment, “That son of a bitch, he’s cuttin’ us out a whole month’s pay. It ain’t right.”
The brown-haired man sighed before turning around.

When his eyes met Steve’s, his throat tightened. In the middle of the blue irises, he could only see pain.

“Well,” he enunciated slowly, as if his tongue was frozen. “I can spare you a loan, you know. If you’re short on cash.”
“I don’t need your money, huh?” Steve said harshly. “You know I ain’t in the poorhouse. Shit!” He finally shouted, turned around and walked fast outside of the camp. “Come on, Cap’.”

As he went away behind some distant trees, Bucky saw the man wipe his eyes.
He let himself fall on the ground and cried ugly tears, head in his hands.

He remained there a long time, the knees of his pants stained by the mud that the melted snow had created. He couldn’t move, couldn’t, for the life of him, do anything. 

After what seemed like hours, he forced himself on his feet, and mechanically tidied all of their stuff, hung everything on the saddles, his mind blank.

When he finally finished, he stared at the bags, his eyes still full of tears. The man put a hand on his horse’s neck. He clinged to the feeling of the short coat against his fingers, soft and spiky at the same time, depending on which way he was moving his hand. He pressed his forehead next to his hand on the animal’s nape as it snorted.
“Sorry, bud,” Bucky whispered.

He let go of the horse and looked behind him, where Steve was sat on a hill, staring at his feet. 
Bucky let out a sigh as he let his head fall back, holding back his tears. He took his lasso under his arm, and put both hands in his pockets before he headed toward Steve.

As he arrived at the edge of the hill, he walked slowly toward the blond cowboy, waving his lasso as he grinned. Steve looked unimpressed. Bucky felt tears blocked in his throat.
He threw the lasso, and it landed perfectly around Steve. He smiled pitifully. In the field, the insects were buzzing all around them, going along with the breeze. The air was filled with the scents of pines and flowers, stronger than before because of the melted snow. He didn’t want to go.

“Time to get goin’, cowboy,” he murmured, pulling gently on the lasso.

Steve stared at him, and said nothing while he got up, untangling his limbs from the rope.
They looked into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity before Steve talked.

“Are you sure Stark said we had to go today?”
Bucky nodded.
Silence settled again.

What was he supposed to do? In front of him, Steve seemed on the verge of tears, fists and jaw clenched. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Bucky pulled the other into a hug. He heard Steve hold his breath, and after a heartbeat, the man returned the embrace. Steve squeezed him hard. Hard. Harder. It hurt his ribs. Bucky’s heart shattered in his chest and he dug his fingers deeper in the man’s shirt.

I don’t want to go either.

They didn’t let go. Neither of them. Steve’s tears formed a huge dark smudge on the man’s shoulder. Bucky didn’t cry.

Captain barked.

The first sob finally came out.

Chapter Text

Steve took a deep breath. The houses around him seemed absurd after sleeping in the middle of the mountains for two months. Everything felt absurd, really. Out of place.

They had returned the sheep to Stark, who had rambled about how they were such shitty cowboys, returning sheep that weren’t even his own. Both of them had listened to him in silence. Steve had thought about how he wanted to punch the man in the face, him and that ridiculous beard of his.

People around him didn’t feel right either. Talking and shouting and looking at him in a way that reflected a man he wasn’t. But really it was just the same as before. Only now, he had lived with Bucky, therefore everything was different.
He gazed at the brown-haired man in front of him, leaned over the hood of his car to try to start it, unsuccessfully. 

“Cap, stop it,” Bucky laughed while the young dog zigzagged between his legs.

He was absurdly handsome here, his jeans covered in oil at the top, and in mud at the bottom. His dirty hands brushing his hair, his cheeks not properly shaved, his nose burnt by the sun. He was exactly the same as he was in the mountains.
And a totally different man all at the same time. Changed by people’s stares. As Steve was.

The man played with Captain, his light laugh a soft echo in between the houses.

Steve’s heart ached. He decided it was definitely because the puppy had grown so much since they had found her, and it had nothing to do with the fact it was probably the last time he heard Bucky’s laugh.

“Okay, wait!” Bucky exclaimed as he opened the car door to sit inside. He tried to start it, and the machine trembled as it finally started off. “Ah, look at that!” 

Steve finally got closer to lower the hood. On the car seat, both hands on the steering wheel, Bucky gazed at him with a pitiful smile. A strand of hair stuck out of his hat from the front and covered his eye.
Oh, how Steve wanted to kiss him.

A man walked past behind them.

All things considered, he didn’t want to kiss him.

“So…” Bucky started, slowly. “You gonna do this again, next summer?”
“Don’t know.” Steve folded his arms. Couldn’t say anything more without crying right there in the parking lot.
“I, erm, I might be back.”
Bucky’s voice was full of hope.

Steve couldn’t face up his gaze.
It had been too simple to hide it from him all this time. He gritted his teeth.

“I have a girl.”

The silence that settled between them was heavy.
Even Captain wasn’t all playful anymore.

“What?”

“I have a girl, back home. ‘Don’t even consider her my girl, I- Fuck.” Steve squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, holding back his tears. “Didn’t tell you because that’s really not- I- We’re getting married in October.”
That was not what he had planned to say.
Fuck.

“That’s…” Bucky began.
Even without looking at him, Steve could hear the pain in his voice.
“That’s great, Steve.”

He didn’t answer. That wasn’t great at all.

The blond man peered around, frowning, still avoiding Bucky’s eyes.

“So,” his voice was weak . “Guess I’ll see you around, huh.”
Bucky nodded.
“Right. See you around.”

They stared at each other. Well, Bucky stared at Steve, and Steve stared at Bucky’s boots. He tried to catch every detail of it. Their faded color, the used spots, how the sole curved the side of the shoes. How Bucky’s pants were all used and dirty near them. Those same boots that had flown high in the sky each time they went in the tent. The ones that Steve had sketched once or twice. The ones Cap had rubbed herself against so many times.
That was it. That was all that was left. Dirty shoes and memories.
One of them had to move, to get going.

Steve shifted his feet, and glanced at the other. He shouldn't have.

Bucky’s face was all cold, his twisted mouth and blue irises unveiling regrets and behind it, something else, bitter-sweet.

“Go, Cap,” the brown-haired man murmured, pushing the dog toward Steve.

Steve turned around, the instant feeling like an eternity, and walked away from the car. Each step was an ordeal. Behind him, he heard the engine starting, and one second later, the dull-blue car passed next to him. He didn’t stop, he couldn’t stop or Bucky would see him, would come out the car to check on him and it would be worse, so much worse, so he kept going, one step at a time on the dusty tarmac of the road.

One step at a time. His legs felt so heavy.

One step at a time. Captain’s claws were ticking fast as she walked next to him.

One step at a time. Steve lifted his head up.

In the distance, the blue car turned right. He couldn’t see it anymore. His knees gave way as he hurried in a back alley.

The man fell on the dirty floor, his knees hit a ledge that hurt like hell. He held the wall with both hands, the top of his head crushing against it as his arched back shook with spasms. Shit shit shit shit. His right hand moved frantically against the roughcast of the wall, searching for something that wasn’t there, something to hold, to pull him out of this, but there was nothing, only blood at the end of his fingers.

He needed to throw up, needed to expel everything out of him, to have nothing left inside of him, but his throat refused and all Steve could do was to cry and yell and hope it would be enough. What was he fucking doing?! He just got paid and he was finally going home and he was going to marry his girl in a month and all he could think about was fucking greyish blue irises, skin burnt by the sun around the cheekbones, skin wrinkling with a lopsided smile, and those same eyes pleading to him while he was running behind a blue car and those eyes on his and closing because he was kissing him and he needed to throw up, needed to throw up so bad.

That was not what was supposed to happen after a one-time thing in a not-queer relationship.

Another sob set his throat on fire as he pushed on his trembling arms to sit up against the wall. There was certainly spit on the floor. He didn’t care. Couldn’t even fully open his eyes in between his tears. Captain squeezed between his legs to lick his face, before she put her head on his arm. One hand petting her, the other pulling on his hair, Steve let the cries shake his body until there were no tears left. 

People passed by. Maybe. He wasn’t sure.

He hugged the puppy for a long time, there. Hand petting the spiky fur, thumb brushing her ribs, cheek buried in her soft neck.

After that, everything went blurry.

***

He knew he had gone home at some point, because Peggy was there, hugging him on the porch of their house they had been sharing for some months now. Sun was high in the sky.

Steve wasn’t sure where he had slept the night before.

They had shared their meal, Peggy updated him on all he had missed in the neighborhood and in her family while he was gone. He didn’t talk much, listened to her instead. Only answered the questions she asked him. He didn’t even remember what he had said.

Oh, and they officially had a dog now. Peggy wasn’t happy when she had seen Captain and when Steve had said he was keeping her, talking about money and responsibility and- she could go to hell , Steve thought.
He was keeping the dog.

September was as blurry as that first day. He went on as if he never left in the first place. Taking small jobs, fixing cars and farm equipment for all the old guys in town, waking up to breakfast with Peggy, saying goodbye when she left to go to the office. 

She didn’t make plenty of money with her secretary job, but he didn’t make much either. 

The month passed by like that, him wandering in the streets with Cap by his side, stopping by every farm to offer his help.
Walking in the middle of the fog.

***

October came around. 

The wedding was in one week, and Peggy occasionally talked about it. She was happy about it. She seemed happy, at least.
It would be easier for them, and for her at her job, so Steve was happy too. Maybe.

They were having lunch in the small kitchen, the setting sun reflecting on the blue tiles, giving the room a strange atmosphere. Steve wasn’t sure if he liked it. It inspired him to draw, but at the same time he knew the surrounding lighting would be hell to faithfully transcribe. He could paint it. Been so long since he picked up a paintbrush. The cutleries were clinking against one another in the silence of the room. Peggy had finished narrating her day. She looked at him weirdly. Steve didn’t say anything, eating his cabbage. She let her eyes fall on her own plate with a disguised sigh.

When he sat on their couch after cleaning the table, Steve took his sketchbook.

“What are you drawing?”

Peggy, her brown curls swinging freely around her face, sat down next to him. She put her elbow on his shoulder, and her head in her arm.
Her skin was so soft against his own.

“The valley. Where we- I was this summer.”
She hummed softly.

Her finger landed on the paper, next to a tiny dark figure in the landscape he was drawing.
“That’s Cap?”
Steve chuckled.
“That’s my horse.”
She laughed with him, a hand on her mouth.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry.”
He smiled. It felt like a while since he did so.

Silence settled again, with the exception of Captain chewing on a bone they had offered her some days ago. Steve turned the page to draw horses.

“Can I talk to you about something?”
Peggy was spying him exactly like she did during dinner, an unreadable look on her face.
“Go on,” Steve shrugged.
“Are you… How do you feel?”
“Why d’you ask?”

She bit her lip, picking on the skin.

“I know you’re a quiet guy, Stevie, but since you returned from that mountain, you seem… Silent?”

His heart broke a little in his chest. He liked Peggy so deeply. It wasn’t fair.
“Yeah, sorry, I’m…” he wasn’t sure what he was. “Sorry.”
“No, that’s okay, that’s okay,” she rubbed her thumb against his forearm. “Is it because of the wedding?” she finally asked.

Steve’s throat became sore. He sighed.

“Not really.”

She gazed at him with her big, warm, brown eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”
He hummed, not sure if it was in agreement or disagreement. He said nothing.

She sighed and Steve felt her leave as her arms disappeared from his shoulder.

“I’m going to bed.”

Steve heard the bathroom door squeak, then a flush, and finally their bedroom door as it shut behind Peggy.
He leaned back on the couch, trying to hear any sound, glimpse any light. Nothing.

He turned the pages in his sketchbook until he found the last page of Bucky’s sketches. Two shaded drawings of the cowboy, gaze lost in the distance. The first one was already finished. The second one wasn’t right. He turned the room upside down to find an eraser, and finally laid hands on a small and dirty one.

He returned to his seat, and started over the face. The moment was soothing. He could only hear his pencil on the paper and Captain snoring in a corner. The lighting in the room was really bad, the light bulb flickered more than usual, but he didn’t care. He was focused on every detail, trying to remember how Bucky’s lips curved when he wasn’t really smiling but it could be seen in his eyes.

Steve remembered a precise moment, when they were talking by the water, Bucky skimming stones.

“Look at that, man!”

“Heh, a kid could’ve done better,” Steve joked.
“Maybe, but could you ?” Bucky teased him.

They bickered like children until they both sat on the pebbles, sun setting behind them. The place was quiet, and Bucky’s gaze was lost on the forest turning into fire as the sky was painted in red and orange. Had somebody walked by, they would have thought the two cowboys weren’t smiling. But Steve, arms on his knees, stared right into Bucky’s eyes from the side and he could see the smile, here, right there, ready to burst out of his face, contained behind those greyish eyes.

He kissed Bucky hard on the mouth after that.

Steve broke away from his thoughts, and stared blankly at his page.

What was he doing? It had become a recurrent question in his life now. What was he doing?? Daydreaming about this man he didn’t even know, thinking about kissing him, fucking him, while his wife-to-be was waiting for him in their bed. He tore the sheet from the notebook and ripped it in small pieces. 
The man took his coat and his hat.

“Going for a walk,” he shouted in the house before storming out.

***

The air in the church was cold.

“And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”
The words felt heavy on Steve’s tongue as he said it along the priest. He could hear Peggy murmuring those same words next to him, and all the people in the church doing so.

Liar.

“For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever. Amen.”

Liar.

“Under the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

The priest beamed at Steve. He seemed so happy to marry them. Steve looked away, turning on his feet to face Peggy. She was truly gorgeous. Her hair was perfectly combed, falling on her shoulders, held by two white floral brooches. Her dress was her mother’s. Steve could hear the woman sobbing quietly in the assembly. Peggy stared right at him, a shy but bright smile on her pink lips. She deserved so much.
Why couldn’t he offer it to her.

That’s a lie, he said to himself.

Maybe he didn’t love her. The idea made his heart race, because what if somebody could hear him. Maybe he didn’t love her, but he could like her. He really liked her. She was a great friend, she was funny, and she deserved the world.

Their lips met, and Steve felt nothing near love or affection, but he felt an intense sentiment of shame crawl under his skin.

Steve thought about this past month, and suddenly, he wanted to slap himself. What an asshole he had been. Of course Peggy deserved better, if he acted like that. He was going to do better, he thought, determined. Stop living on dreams and fantasies about a man he would never see again.

His wife was right there in front of him, his inner monologue continued as their lips parted, and he was determined to like her with all his heart.

They came down the small stage, and everyone got up to hug them. Peggy’s mother was crying when she took her daughter in her arms. People came to congratulate Steve. There were not a lot of people in the small church ; Peggy’s family, her close friends, some of Steve's cousins. 
Instinctively, he searched for long brown hair in the group.

His resolutions hadn’t lasted long, huh.

Chapter Text

Steve shouted.

“Watch out!!”

A gigantic snowball exploded in Peggy’s neck, right where it could fall in the collar of her winter jacket.
“Steven Grant Rogers!” she yelled after a high-pitched scream.
He grinned with all his teeth when she turned around, her mouth open in shock because of the cold.

Thirty feet ahead of him, she squatted down to take snow in her gloved hands, and he rushed behind a lonely pine, giggling.

“How did you even manage to make a ball with this! It’s so cold it crumbles between my fingers ”
He stuck his head out of his hiding spot.
“Can I come out or ‘r’you a little liar, huh?”
Knees in the snow, she held her hands towards him.

“I can’t do anything with that, even if I really want to throw some snow into this insolent smirk of yours!”
Steve laughed out loud, and walked up to his wife.
“Yeah, y’know this is part of a cowboy’s life, y’learn to be better at everything, and-” as he talked, he passed his hand on the lower branches of the tree.
A whole avalanche fell on his head.

Peggy burst into laughter, falling on the ground, tears sparkling in the corner of her eyes.

“That’s not funny!” his voice was screeching with cold.
“It is!”
“Stop laughing!”
“I- I can’t breathe!” Peggy managed to articulate in between her laughs. 

He was trying really hard to play along and to seem irritated but he couldn’t suppress the huge smile on his lips. Still, he winced when a small pile of snow fell down the back of his shirt.

“Come on girl, they’re waiting for us.”
She took the hand he offered her, and picked up the packages that had fallen with her earlier.
“You are lucky those are not fragile, darling,” she said in a light-hearted tone.
Her arm wrapped itself around Steve’s, and both of them headed to the house at the end of the snowy path. 

Peggy rang at the front door which opened on a couple, smiling and greeting them. Nicky and Larry – real names Nicole and Lawrence – were close friends since Peggy and Nicky had met a few years ago, and even if it wasn’t really Christmas yet, today was the day they were celebrating it together. The other couple wasn’t friends with a lot of people, really. Nicky being a black woman and Larry a white man, both their families had rejected them, and the neighborhood wasn’t really friendly. They were nonetheless waiting for another woman, Peggy and Nicky’s friend. But that was all.

The younger woman kissed him on both cheeks before she turned towards Peggy, and Larry shook his hand tight. 

“Good to see you, man,” he said joyfully.
“Good to see you too, Larry.”

They headed to the living room, chatting about the weather and work. Nicky teased them about all the snow that had fallen from their shoulders when they had taken their jackets off. Steve and the black-haired man sat on the couch and an armchair, across from each other, while the two women went to the kitchen, Peggy explaining to her friend another of her ideas about her work and science or something.

A knock echoed in the house and soon Steve saw Nicky walking joyfully to the front door, and one second later, Janet waved quietly at the two men while she followed her friend in the kitchen, her baby asleep in her arms.
Steve didn’t know a lot about this girl, she was one of Peggy’s coworkers and was a young widow, only twenty and already a single mom.

“So, how are things going on for you?” the man asked, lighting his pipe.
“Not that great, after winter came around. But I found a job at a guy’s business. Worked for him for years when I was younger, couldn’t refuse me.”

Larry nodded, puffing on his pipe.

“You know that I can hire you at the shop, if you need it. I would be happy to do so.”
“I know. Thank you.”
Steve winced deep down. He liked the man, but he would rather hang himself than having to talk with someone every day. At least cowboys and farmers were quiet guys.

And just like that, he was thinking about a brown-haired cowboy again.
How he thought he was annoying at first. And then how he liked talking with him.

Maybe it was the same with Larry?
Maybe he just had to open up a bit more with people around him.

Yeah, nah.

Nicky erupted in the room, Peggy’s packages in hand.
“Love, look at what those two sweeties have bought for us!”

The three women sat down, Peggy against Steve on the couch, her legs crossed under her, an elbow on his shoulder.

The five of them talked together for a while about presents and Christmas, before Janet, her baby in her arms, brought the topic back to numbers or finances, Steve wasn’t sure. Peggy detached herself from his husband, suddenly all ears.
Larry rolled his eyes with a smirk.

“Ah, Steve, my man, those women. Lucky for them, we are in love!”

Yeah, lucky for them.

Nicky went to set the table, and as soon as the supper was ready, they were all sat around the wooden table, eyes down on their knees.

“Our dear Heavenly Father, we thank thee for this food. Feed our souls on the bread of life and help us to do our part in kind words and loving deeds. We ask in Jesus' name.”
“Amen,” they all said in unison.

“And enjoy your meal!” Peggy added, sparkles in her eyes.

The turkey was so good Steve could have eaten thirteen more plates. The meat was served with mashed potatoes and green beans, and all of them were humming with pleasure the whole meal.

It was then the moment for the unmarried couple to open the presents the other had brought, apologizing for not having any in return. Peggy reassured them by saying they had already bought all the food, and besides, it was only a hand-knitted sweater and scarf. 
Nicky hugged her friend hard, sobbing in her neck.

They all cleaned the table and joked together until late that night, and after yet another hysterical laughter, it was time to go.

“Thank you for this night, my friends,” Nicky declared, her eyes wet while she stood on the porch.
They all knew what it meant to her.

Janet went to her car, so Steve and Peggy ended up alone in the night, their breath forming little clouds in the freezing air. 
They walked up to their house a few streets away, their steps silenced by the snow on the ground, and when they arrived, Peggy faced Steve to kiss him passionately on the mouth. He returned the kindness.

It felt like kissing a wall.

***

1963

Anna was born on September sixteenth, 1963. She was a very sick baby, and cried most of the time. Peggy had to quit her job, and was now struggling to find a new one. Steve had to work for them both and he was hardly at home anymore.
December was tough, and Steve went to Larry to work in his shop, it was the best job he could find. Besides that, he kept the habit of wandering in town with Captain, seeking any paid task he could find. 

January was maybe even tougher. Peggy found another job as a secretary. She was always fuming about how men were treating her there, and all he could do was listen to her crying in their living room while Anna was screaming and he was trying not to fall asleep right there after his day.

February was the worst.

Steve was sitting on their bed, doing his best not to make any sound. Anna was finally asleep, and his ears were still ringing from her cries. She had caught a cold some days earlier and nothing could be done. She was still sick.

Peggy joined him and quietly pressed her body against her husband’s. He took her shoulders in his arm and squeezed her.
“Everything good?” he asked, kissing her temple.

The brown-haired woman didn’t answer. Instead, she let out a jittery sigh and put her head on Steve’s shoulder.

“I think I’m pregnant again.”

The announcement was like a cold shower.

Steve’s body went tense. Peggy’s tears ran along her face without any sound. He didn’t move. It wasn’t like he could do anything. No matter what he could say, the baby would not stop from existing. Peggy was shaking against him.
She was exhausted.

Anna yelled in the next room.

The man sighed, and Peggy sobbed, wiping her eyes.
“I’m goin’,” Steve declared in a monotonous voice.

***

“Come on girl, enjoy this evening. The one time we can be without the kid, you are all frowning and grumbling.”
Peggy exhaled.
“I know. Sorry.”

They were inside Steve’s car in the middle of the night, an impressing big fabric taut in the middle of a field where numerous cars were parked alongside theirs. The movie was about a girl falling in love with a guy that didn’t know her, and she was trying to impress him with her girl friends. He didn’t really care.

He was trying to distract Peggy, who came home sobbing again, annoyed at the men at her work. She had explained to Steve how they were such idiots, something about science and how they valued money more than scientific advances and how they had laughed at her when she had tried to help.

Peggy’s sister was with Anna at home and the two lovers had gone to a restaurant for dinner in another town nearby, and they were now watching this dumb movie.

Steve knew his wife wasn’t paying more attention to it than he was, he could almost hear her thunderous thoughts.

“Hey,” he said again, rocking her gently. “ ‘t’s okay. Their loss.”
She shook her head.
“I’m thinking about the baby.”

Steve’s throat turned dry. It was already June, and Peggy’s belly was now quite visible under her spring clothes. They were both worried about this new child. If life was easier now that summer was close, Anna wasn’t healthier, and the new baby was expected for October. And everything would be the same as last year.

Steve should be upset, or angry, or happy to have another child. But he couldn’t feel anything. Everything seemed to be a dream. Nothing was really tangible. He drew small circles with his thumb on Peggy’s arm, hoping it would be enough. 

It wasn’t.

***

1964

Holly was as sick as her sister. Coughing and crying in the house, the two girls were so loud that Steve couldn’t hear himself think.
Peggy wasn’t home yet, wouldn’t be for another hour at least. Steve was on the couch, eyebrows frowned, blood beating in his temple as the pain in his head spread through his face. Anna was crying and Holly was shouting and Captain was barking and the Beatles were singing on the radio and Holly was coughing and Anna was sobbing and a car in the street passed by and the water on the stove was boiling and Anna was yelling and screaming and singing and barking and crying and yelling and shouting and howling and moaning and screeching and barking, barking, barking.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, CAP!!”

The air in the street was cold as he ran outside. The snowflakes lashed the skin on his face and his eyes and his hands and he fell to the floor, the snow freezing his legs, the wet wall of the house soaking his shirt but all he could do was sob, get out all the tears that were submerging him, that were flooding every cell of his body. 

He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t thinking about a tent in the mountain, the quiet flow of a torrent and blue eyes observing him, pink lips smiling without a word. He would have given everything he owned to wake up to the sound of insects buzzing just one more morning. Steve didn’t know why he was here, why he had married Peggy, why he was like this, thinking like this, being so fucking ungrateful for the life he had dreamed of all his life.

Had he?

The thought was like a slap in the face.

Had he?

Had he ever wanted to marry a woman and have two kids? He pressed the palm of his hands hard on his eyelid. Was everything just a big lie since the beginning? He couldn’t think that. That was the open door of thoughts he couldn’t have, about brown-haired cowboys and kisses in the middle of green fields.

Bucky didn’t even remember him now, what was the point?

He kicked himself mentally. That wasn’t about Bucky, that was never about Bucky, he souldn’t think about Bucky, he shouldn’t because that was about the girls and he wasn’t queer he wasn’t fucking queer.

The scene was exactly the same as two years ago. Steve crying in an alley, wanting to throw up. But today he was alone, no soft fur to help him stay in reality, no hot tongue chasing his tears. 

He pushed on his arms to get up. He walked to his front door, alone. He got in as if nothing had happened, and didn’t talk about it with Peggy when she finally returned home. A normal evening.

Chapter Text

1965 

The August night was hot, heavy as the wind skimmed the men and women gathered around the track. The yellow lights were almost blinding against the navy blue of the sky, but Bucky  was used to it. The cowboy heard some whistles coming from the crowd, and he glanced at it. There were a lot of people around the rodeo ring that evening, bodies pressed against the wooden fences, boots kicked around in the sand, and a lot of dust hung around in the air. He wasn’t sure why that night was so special, but it meant more money so he didn’t think about it for long.

“Let ‘er rip and snort, boys!”

The wooden fence opened in front of his eyes and he jumped, torn from his thoughts by the distorted voice that came from the loudspeaker.

“Bucky Barnes, hangin’ on for dear life!” the voice added.

More whistles and shouts came from the crowd, and Bucky gritted his teeth, determined to give them what they came for. The bull jumped as if its life depended on it, shaking its head and kicking its hooves in the air. Bucky tightened his grip on the rope around the animal and squeezed his thighs. He would not fall now!

The crowd cheered, and the loudspeaker said something but he didn’t hear it, too focused. He was doing good. Great, even. The man smirked.

His hat fell to the ground and he followed a moment later. 
He could feel a stabbing pain in his shoulder where he had hit the floor but he jumped to his feet and ran away from the bull as fast as he could, afraid of being knocked out.

The loudspeaker mocked him, but Bucky knew by all the cheering that the audience had loved it. He picked his hat back up in a smooth move and waved with a toothy grin.

This night sounded promising.

The counter was crowded, and Bucky was in the middle of the agitation, laughing with all the other men and drinking his beer, not sure if it was the third or the fourth one. The bar was packed, as it was every night, and as most nights Bucky was spending the money he had just earned instead of saving it.
With another laugh at a filthy comment from one of the guys, Bucky raised his arms to tie up his hair in a quick ponytail. That’s when he noticed the gaze of the man. 

He was maybe ten or fifteen years older than him, brown hair stuck on his forehead and a beer in hand. And he looked directly at Bucky from the end of the table. The young man scowled. He lowered his hands, and tried to focus on a story the man next to him related. But the eyes of the man were still hot on his skin. That was not the first time men had stared at him like that, and he knew exactly what that meant. Being followed outside. Hearing insults. As if being queer was written on his face.

Bucky turned his head and defied his gaze.
What ‘r’you looking at, huh?
But the man didn’t look away. Instead, he took a sip of his drink and raised his eyebrows.

Fucker.

The night went on, he ordered another beer as less and less men were amassed around the counter. But the older man was still there, glancing at Bucky from time to time. Bucky was more than irritated, now.

Some people were still sat at the counter but they were all drinking their beers in silence. The rest of the place was lively despite the hour, which created background noise, and in the middle of all that Bucky heard the recognizable sound of a stool being pushed backwards. Then steps, closer and closer. He was about to turn around to insult the man when a callused hand hit the counter, holding out a dollar.

“A beer for my friend here,” the man said, staring into Bucky's eyes. “He offered us a hell of a show at the ring tonight.”

Ohhhh, Bucky realised. 

His back slammed against the dirty wall, but his shout of surprise was muffled by the man’s lips on his own. They were in a back alley, the only light coming from the moon where it passed through the clouds. Bucky moaned when the man lifted his shirt to caress his skin, and the younger man tried to unbutton the other’s pants. Even if they were alone there, both of them tried to be quiet, not wanting anyone to stumble upon them.

They moved frenetically, as fast as they could get. It was hot, it felt good. Bucky could almost feel soft grass against his back.

He looked up to find blue eyes behind blond hair, to catch a laugh in the man’s eyes in front of him, his lips in between his blond beard twisting in a knowing smile.

Instead, he found dark eyes and an uneven black beard.
He jumped away with a yell and pushed the brown-haired man as hard as he could.

The other exhaled when his back collided with the wall at the opposite end of the alley. Bucky gawked at him, gaping in the empty air.
“I- I’m so sorry.” 
He ran away, hearing a distant “Asshole” in the dark.

The street was crowded here. Bucky tried to walk slowly, as if he wasn’t out of breath, as if he wasn’t totally lost.

The brown-haired man finally found his car and as soon as he was inside, he started the engine and drove towards who-knows-where. The town’s lights shrank more and more and he sighed, both hands gripped hard on the steering wheel.
What the fuck, man.

If he was being honest, it wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. Waking up and turning to face a Steve that wasn’t here, kissing somebody and waiting to hear Steve’s voice when the other person talked.

It had been three years.

Three years of thinking every day about that blond cowboy he didn’t even know, of wondering what his problem was. He had found plenty of dudes on those rodeo nights. Plenty of girls when he couldn’t find anything else. Why was Steve Rogers on his mind?

The following summer, he had gone to Anthony Stark again. Asking for a job. Asking for Steve, maybe. The blond cowboy hadn’t come back. At least that’s what Stark had said. With the way he had stared at Bucky, the man hadn’t insisted. 

Bucky opened the window and let the summer air lash his skin. Realizing his hair was still tied up, he pulled on the hairband angrily as he grunted. He stared at the road ahead of him, plunged in shadows pierced by the car’s headlights.
Steve had forgotten him, he knew that. 
He was a fucking idiot to think about him everyday. For years. Steve had married his girl – Bucky didn’t even know her name, he realized. He maybe even has kids, who knows?

A sour laugh escaped Bucky’s lips. He never thought about that.
He definitely needed to forget that man.

Bucky drove the whole night. All the roads were the same, surrounded by farms and cereal fields, paved with dusty tarmac. It was only when the glimmers of dawn could be seen that Bucky decided to drive back to town. He had planned to sleep in his car that night, but he was exhausted and besides, he had to spend all that remaining money from the day before.

He stumbled in his hotel room, barely slamming the door behind him before he collapsed on the mattress.

The only thing in his mind before darkness took over his vision were blue eyes wrinkled with laughter.

***

Too much alcohol, and not enough sleep.

Bucky squinted, trying to chase away the headache that already pulsed in his temples as the white sand on the ground blinded him. He wasn’t planning on running today, instead he had decided to watch the horse races. Only women this morning.

The man was leaning on his elbow against a car near the ring’s entrance, glancing at each girl that went inside one by one. They were fast but if the crowd could shut the fuck up, please, he thought, his face wrinkling at the pain that jolted near his ears.

“Natasha Romanoff, coming right from Ohio for us all, ladies and gentlemen!” the loudspeaker announced.

Bucky raised his eyebrows. Not an ordinary name.

Not an ordinary woman either, he noticed as his gaze landed on her.

“Time is 13 and 3!” 

And fast, on top of that.

The cream-colored horse made his hat fly when it ran past him and stopped some fifty feet away.

“Sorry ‘bout that!” shouted the red-haired woman as she jumped off her saddle and talked with the man that was taking care of the animal. She didn’t even turn to face Bucky.

The latter grinned as he picked his hat up, and walked towards her.

Despite her sporting discipline, her bright hair was let loose, cascading like red flames in her back against the black leather jacket she was wearing, which matched her outfit from head to toe. Only her chaps were more conventional with their brown, slightly yellow-ish color.

“No harm done”, he said when he joined the woman. She finally faced him, her green eyes staring into his soul. Bucky felt disconcerted, and tried to blurt out some words before the situation became awkward. “That was impressive, what y’did there. Most people don’t go under 14 seconds. That your horse?”
Natasha Romanoff raised her eyebrows, as if it was the most absurd question she ever heard.

“This one? No, not at all. I picked the first one they gave me. It’s… What’s his name again?” She shouted to the guy behind them.
“Tornado.”
“His name’s Tornado.”

Bucky stared blankly at her in silence.

“Oh, yeah, okay…” it was definitely awkward now. “So erm… You’re not from here?”
“From Ohio. Thought they announced it?”
“Yeah, no no,” he winced deep down inside. “I meant your name. Romanoff. That’s Russian, right?”

She studied him, her arms crossed.

“What’s your name?”
“Y’can call me Bucky. Bucky Barnes,” the man said.
“Not that typical either,” she smirked. “Bucky? What on earth was your mother thinking?”
“ ‘t’s a nickname.”

She chuckled, side-eyeing him.

“Yeah, I hope so.”

Romanoff was about to turn away, but he really liked her, she was funny. Even if a bit mean, he wasn’t going to lie.

“So you race often?”

The red-haired woman rolled her eyes as she stopped on her tracks.

“Listen, Bucky, I have other things to do than talk with a stranger. If you want to carry on this conversation, you’ll have to find me any other time.”

And just like that, she was gone behind the rusty barn.

The truth is that Bucky didn’t like girls. But it was easier not to think about Steve when the skin under his hands was soft, when he couldn’t really discern the muscles that rolled under, when the lips tasted like lipstick and not sweat.

The real, real truth is that Bucky was thinking about Steve even when making out with a girl. But at least he always had a reminder that the cowboy wasn’t really there, and that meant no running away like what happened with that guy the other day. 

And if the girl in question was funny, that could even be great.

It’s for all those reasons that Bucky smiled and waved when he saw Natasha at a table in the bar that night. She looked up from her glass and waved back, but didn’t return the smile. At least that was something, he thought.

As he came closer to her table, the cowboy lost all his confidence. 

“Evening, Bucky.”
“Evening, Natasha, and, who- Who’s with you tonight?”

The man gaped at the seat next to the woman, occupied by a young blonde girl. She didn’t look older than seven, in a cute green dress and her head pressed against Romanoff’s arm.

“My daughter, Katherina.” The redhead shook her arm, and the young girl raised her head. “Say hello, Kate.”
“Hello,” the aforementioned Katherina grumbled.
“Take a seat,” Romanoff added, pointing at a chair with her glass.

He complied, still too stunned to speak.

“So, Bucky Barnes,” the woman carried on as if nothing happened. “What are your plans for tonight?”

The man laughed in a breath as he took out his hat.

“What’s goin’ on with my name?”

She smiled.
“I don’t understand the nickname.”

He shrugged and asked a waiter for a beer before he answered.

“I don’t know what to tell you. My sisters called me Bucky my entire life, and now ‘t’s weird when people call me anything other than that.”

He sipped on his glass, as silence settled between them. If you could call silence the brouhaha of men laughing and shouting in the bar.

He wasn’t used to sitting at the tables, as he preferred the simplicity of people coming and going at the counter. From here, the bar looked different, bigger, with a different perspective. He could even see the dance floor, crowded with couples.
He got up suddenly, grinning from ear to ear, and offered his hand to the woman in front of him who gazed at him, almost judgmental.

“You’re dancing?” he said.

She laughed, shook her head, but took his hand a second later.

“Don’t go anywhere, Kate, right?” she stated more than asked her daughter. The young girl nodded, and they looked at each other as if they could communicate without a single word.
After a second, Romanoff smiled at the blonde girl and turned over to Bucky.
“Well? That dance?”

It was only their second dance when slow music got out of the player. They both took their hands and waists naturally, and the slow flow of the crowd carried them along. 
Natasha’s hand was soft but strong against his. The bar wasn’t as noisy from where they were, the lights were a pretty blue and purple and, mingled with the yellow light of the drinking area, they sculpted the woman’s face. He could perfectly see her high cheekbones and her nose bumped at its end. Throat tight, he wondered if that was the type of face Steve would enjoy drawing.

The passive melody went on, and Bucky knew that was always the perfect time to kiss a girl. Half the couples around them were already doing so.

He closed his eyes, tilted his head to reach the mouth in front of him.

“I really hope you’re not expecting to kiss me, Barnes.”

His eyelids jolted open as he stared at the woman, both of them still dancing. Her face harbored a mocking expression, along with an eyebrow raised high on her forehead.

“Shouldn’t I?” he asked, thrown off.
“Obviously not. Now, stop talking and dance.”

And he did so, speechless, staring at Romanoff as she closed her eyes to listen to the music, her red hair blue under the light.

Chapter Text

Natasha and Bucky met every day the following week, when Natasha wasn’t working at a farm outside of town. They waited for each other at the end of every race or rodeo to go drink together, Kate often with them, but sometimes the girl would also read in their van.

Natasha had showed him the van. The two girls lived in a mint-colored truck, sleeping in the double bed at the rear and driving from town to town. The place was flooded with books, albums as well as novels, and some of them were even in French or Russian.

“She’s the one reading allat?” Bucky had asked, thunderstruck.

The woman had smiled, her arms crossed.

“She’s a clever girl.”

Clever was an understatement. Bucky could hardly write without mistakes, and here was a seven-year-old reading French like it was nothing. 

And when that week of drinking together ended, they walked. Hands in their pockets, cigarette in Bucky’s mouth and stars over their heads, they went every night. That’s when tongues were loosened. The man talked about his family, about his life. Didn’t talk about that particular summer. The woman revealed more about why she was there, trying to find money to offer her daughter a settled life in a house. Didn’t talk about her childhood.

That was one of those nights.
The three of them were hiking in between fields along the forest, and Kate ran far ahead, jumping from lightning bug to lightning bug, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Mama, look how many there are!!”
“I can see that, Katie,” the woman smiled.

Silence was comfortable around them. Their steps covered most of the sounds as they walked in crispy grass, and Bucky glanced at Natasha’s face. She seemed relaxed. She hadn’t lost her eloquence, always making fun of the brown-haired man, but she had opened up. Let Bucky see who she was under the mask, stopped hiding herself behind her words. That almost made him want to ask… 

“No, I didn’t plan on having a child when I was a teenager, dumbass.”
“What?” Bucky’s eyes opened wide.
“You think I can’t see how you stare at me?” the redhead let her head fall on her shoulder, side-eyeing Bucky, a falsely judgmental expression on her face.

He gaped at her. Was this woman a mind-reader?? On second thought, it wouldn’t be that shocking. He cleared his throat, looking for something to say, but nothing came out.
Natasha sighed. Bucky knew that sigh. It was the ‘don’t interrupt me because I’m gonna confide something important to you’ sigh, so he didn’t interrupt her.

“Not sure you want the whole story, pal,” she finally started. “I was- I was seventeen when I had her. It was hard. Like, real hard.” She stared right in front of her, and Bucky wasn’t sure if she was zoning out or looking at the young girl on the path. “My parents kicked me out immediately. Lost contact with my sister.” Bucky remained silent and slowed down as the woman did so. “I hated her.”

He knew she wasn’t referring to her sister.

“She shattered my life in a million pieces in a second, little baby with her pink skin and white hairs. She didn’t know. But I knew, and I hated her. I would let her in my car for hours to go scream by the side of the road. And one day everything was over, because I realised I couldn’t hate a baby for her simple existence. And now…” she blinked. “At the time I couldn’t even consider that, but she’s kinda my whole world, you know?”

They were standing in the breeze, face to face.
Bucky nodded, because he could feel it wasn’t the kind of conversation that needed an answer.

“Now, hand me that cig, boy.”

He chuckled, and put the cigarette in the middle of the two fingers the woman was holding out. 

“ ‘m older than you, Nat.”
“Do I look like I care?” she replied, smiling.

Kate came over to them, running, her hands closed around something.

“I caught one!!”

The girl carefully opened her fingers, let the green light come out of her hands. The insect was uglier than what Bucky had imagined. Its black body was made of ten or so plates, shifting along its movements. Bucky winced when he saw the hairy legs on her soft skin.

“This one is a girl because she has those stripes on her!!” Kate added.
As she kneeled down to her daughter, Natasha smiled softly.
“Thank you for showing us, Kate. But you could hurt her, so why don’t you release her so she can live her life?”
“Yeah, wait, I’m showing Bucky too.”

The blonde girl lifted her arms toward the man. He smiled at her, hiding the disgust he had for the small insect.

“Yeah, it’s great Kate.”

Natasha laughed at him from the ground.

“What??”
“Try to be a little more convincing next time. You’re literally walking away from that bug.”
“I’m not!”
“You are,” the young girl claimed, shrugging. “But that’s okay, most people are scared of insects.”

Her mother laughed even more.

“Come on, Kate, help me at least!” Bucky pleaded, trying to hide his smile.

But she was too focused on releasing the insect safely in the tall grass.

Back on her feet, Natasha threw her arm around Bucky’s shoulders.
“Come on, we still have to go to that tree we said looked cool.” 
And just like that they walked again as if nothing had been said, arm in arm, Katherina holding on tight to her mother’s hand. Bucky smiled.

They returned to town an hour or so later, sky pitch-black. Kate claimed she was tired, and was now babbling about insects while Nat carried her on her back. When they reached the van, the girls said good night to Bucky as he entered his own car for the night. Wasn’t as comfy as the hotel room, but he couldn’t afford it every time.

As he tried to sleep, eyes wide open, the man couldn’t help but think about Steve. Did he really have kids?
Could they do like Natasha, having a child and then finding each other in the middle of Texas to build a life together? He frowned. Was he building a life with Nat? That seemed absurd, because he wasn’t in love with that woman, and neither was she, but something in his heart shouted at him to go with them, to help them find a house. That would be great, he thought. That could actually work.

And that would be the perfect way to forget about Steve, the man concluded for himself as he turned on his side to finally close his eyes.

***

The money was rather easy to find once they were together and quickly, they moved in. The house was not that big, neither that charming. But it was a house and there was even a little front yard. Natasha and Kate slept in the same bedroom, and Bucky had the smaller one.

It felt strange, sharing his life with a woman. He knew it would happen at some point or another, but a part of his mind couldn’t help but imagine this exact same life with someone else. Bucky continued to sleep around, trying his best to forget about this. If Natasha ever noticed that the ones following Bucky around street corners were muscly farmers and not sweet women racers, she never said a thing.
He began to work at the same farm as Nat. It wasn’t really what he loved to do, but who cared ; it was the best money he had ever made.

September ended, October followed, and winter was already there. It was a cold day and Kate was at school for the day. Nat worked. Bucky was alone in the house, standing in their bathroom, both hands gripped hard on the sink. It had been a while since he had seen himself with hair that short. Squinting toward his reflection, he tried to make sure the back of his head wasn’t a total mess. It looked… Okay. He wasn’t sure if he appeared younger or older. Bucky ran his hand on his chin. Freshly shaved, he looked even weirder. 
His eyes turned wet.

He realized he was so different from the Bucky Steve knew. Would he recognize him if they walked past each other on the street?

Bucky grunted, he couldn’t cry for stupid things like this.

He was once again thinking about him. The blond man was stuck in his head, and it was no use. Nothing made him disappear. There was always a tiny voice murmuring in Bucky’s ear : What would have Steve said? How bright would Steve’s smile be in that situation? What if it was Steve instead of that guy in front of you? 
What would he do right now, if he was in that bathroom?

Bucky shook his head, chasing the thought away.

He took a deep breath, eyes closed, trying to think about anything but Steve and– It had been three years, the voice whispered.
Bucky winced again, because who the hell thinks about a guy they haven’t seen for three whole years?

The man exhaled as he pushed himself away from the mirror and put his shirt back on. The evening wasn’t that far away, and he had to get dinner ready. Back in the living room, he gazed out the window, wondering if he wanted to cook meat for today or if the vegetables would be enough. Outside, he could see their neighbor’s house, and right behind it, he could make out the yellow grass of the fields.
How they had loved sitting in the grass, back then. How they would listen to the sheep bleat while they would talk, or would play with Cap, or how Steve would draw in silence. You’re thinking about that damn man again, James Buchanan Barnes, he thought, incapable of tearing his eyes away from that window.

He took his coat and opened the front door. 

His steps were muffled by the grass in their yard, then loud on the road, and muffled again when he reached the field. He climbed the small embankment and breathed in hard. This looked nothing like the mountain fields. But somehow it felt the same. He moved forward for only ten-ish feet and fell to his knees. His eyes were more than wet, now.

By the time Natasha returned, Bucky was sat with his arms around his knees, staring far into the distance. The sky was grey, and the sunset wasn’t really visible. His butt was certainly wet and muddy after all this time on the ground.

The woman sat quietly beside him. They didn’t glance at each other.

“D’you want to talk about it?”

Bucky's throat tightened. Did he?

“ ‘Don’t know if you can understand.”

She laughed at him.

“Oh, shut it. Why wouldn’t I understand, huh?”

A sad smile drew itself on his face as he lowered his head.

“ ‘Don’t think a lot of people would understand.”

He could believe Natasha. She was a good person, and they liked each other, really. She would understand, and she wouldn’t do anything. But… Would she?

“I think I opened up enough for you to open up as well. We’re not strangers anymore, Bucky.”

He nodded, but the words were stuck in his throat.
She said nothing. They breathed together for a while, there in the field.

“Three years ago, I took a job for the summer.”
She hummed, because he had stopped talking after that simple sentence.

“I had to look after a sheep herd. We were two for the job. The other… The other one was a complete stranger. But then he… Wasn’t. Kinda like you, y’know, but… But different.”

He swallowed, trying to stop the tears that were ready to burst out of his eyes.

“I’m in love with him, Nat.”

He wasn’t even sure she heard clearly what he had just said, because the words had practically jumped out of him. Because he couldn’t repress them any longer.

“I’m in love with a married man I didn’t even know before that.”

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, waiting for what would come next. 

The warmth of an arm wrapped around his elbows, and the man sighed, his back loosening. Natasha rubbed her thumb against his arm. Bucky placed his head on her shoulder, and she put her head on his. The clouds were pretty from the ground. All round and soft, even if he knew those shades of grey announced rain.

“Did you talk? Those three years?”

He shook his head. It wasn’t a great success given that he was stuck between her head and her shoulder, but she got the message.

“Why not?”
“I don’t know where he lives, Nat. The last time I saw him he announced to me he was gonna marry his girl.”

He practically heard her eyes rolling in her skull.

“General delivery exists, you idiot. What’s his name?”

“Steve Rogers,” he whispered after a while.

“Well, let’s write to this Steve Rogers. Come on.” She stood up and stared at him, both hands on her hip.
“He’s married, Nat!” he protested.
“And you live with a woman and her kid. D’you know how many of my girl friends are married to a man they don’t even love? Come on, I said, get up!”
He smiled despite himself, and followed her to their house.

Kate was already there, drawing in the living room. She looked up, and her mouth fell open.

“What happened to your hair?!” she shrieked.
“It’s that bad??” he replied, discomfited.

Natasha burst out laughing at the sight of Bucky’s face.

Later that night, Bucky was sat at the table. A postcard in front of him, a pen in his hand. His head in the other. 

‘Mr. Steve Rogers, General Delivery, Riverton WY.’

He couldn’t write anything else. That was so stupid, the man was living his life with his family. But maybe… Maybe Bucky was willing to live like Steve’s friend if it meant seeing him again.

‘Friend’, he wrote, trying his best to not make any mistakes.

‘This letter is long over due. Coming thru on the 28th. Drop me a line if your there.’

‘Bucky.’

***

Five days later, a letter came in the mailbox.

‘Steve Rogers, Riverton, WY. James Barnes, RFD 2, Childress, Texas.’

Feverish, Bucky turned the paper over. Steve’s handwriting was way cleaner than his, exactly as he remembered it in his sketchbook, and the two words were written in large letters in the middle of the sheet.

'You bet.’

Chapter Text

Bucky had driven all day. The fields were infinite all around his car, like a yellow sea trying to engulf him. He hardly ever stopped, only did so when he really needed to piss. 

By the time he entered the town, his heart was close to exploding. He wiped his hands on his pants way more than a normal amount. The sun was already low on the horizon, and the man parked along the road. Both hands still on the steering wheel, he groaned as he pressed his head against the headrest. You’re not even seeing him yet, man. Just askin’ the way. Stop being such a coward. Bucky got out of his car, trying to seem as self-assured as he could.

“Hey, man,” he directed to some old guy who was fixing his door in his front yard. The man turned toward him. “D’you know where a certain Steve Rogers lives ‘round here?”

The stranger smiled brightly at the name.

“You’re not that far away, son! The Rogers live just around the corner.” He gestured toward the left with a tool in his hand. “Continue this way slowly, you should see a house with green shutters and stairs that go up the front door. That’s them.”

Bucky thanked him profusely, wished him a great evening, and nearly jumped back in his car. He didn’t start the engine right away, trying to focus. He couldn’t hear himself think behind the noise of blood beating in his temples. Steve was right there. ‘Just around the corner.’

The way to the house felt like hours, though it only took a few seconds. And here they were, the green shutters. Bucky’s heart stopped when he saw them. 

He parked, and this time it was for real. He was really there. Bucky was incapable of moving. He knew Steve was there and the thought made him sick. He was standing, or sitting, or lying behind the off-white facade, where stairs led to a balcony, its wall cut out by a door and a window covered by curtains.

He tried to imagine Steve living his life here. Going up and down those stairs. Opening the window. Chasing dust after the spring cleans, joking with someone else. Fixing some curtains. Going to work.
Opening the door… Bucky shook himself at this last thought, because his chest was on fire and he wasn’t prepared to die right there, and finally went out of the car with his hands shivering alongside his body.

He took some steps on the gravel, looked around. Was he supposed to go up to knock? Wouldn’t that be awkward?
But he didn’t have proper time to think more about that.

The door opened.

Somebody ran across the balcony and stopped right up the stairs, both hands on the barrier. And that somebody- That somebody was Steve. Blond hair, blond beard, and those same damn blue eyes, as bright as if the man had swallowed the sun, surrounded by wrinkles caused by the gigantic smile on his lips. He was right there, exactly like he remembered him. Minus the hat. 
Bucky couldn’t detach his gaze from Steve’s, he held his breath as if he was scared to see Steve’s body disintegrate in the air. 

“Bucky…”

It was nothing more than a whisper, carried away by the wind, just for the two of them. 

The brown-haired man couldn’t suppress the huge grin on his face as he walked toward the house, faster and faster and faster, broken free from his paralysis spell. Steve followed his momentum as he rushed down the stairs, and their embrace nearly made them fall. Bucky hugged him hard, hard, hard, he crushed Steve’s body against his, and maybe the other did as well but he wasn’t sure, his body vibrating with emotion and relief.

He finally took a step back when he heard a sob. Steve stared at him, his face wet but his smile still so bright on his face.

“New hair,” the blond declared.

Bucky smirked in return.

“Don’t like it?”

Steve, hands still gripped on his collar, checked around. The street was empty. The man stared at him again, his gaze tinged with playfulness, and Bucky gasped when he was pushed backward. His back hit the wall of a hidden corner. Steve’s eyes were stuck on his lips, hands around him on the wall, and Bucky’s heart fluttered. Kiss me, he wanted to scream. Kiss me, please.

And maybe the words slipped out of his mouth, because Steve didn’t need to be asked twice. Hot lips crashed on his, wet with saliva — or tears, he wasn’t sure. The kiss was hot but soft, gentle, Steve’s hands on his cheeks, a thumb caressing his skin. A little too gentle, even. Bucky ran his hands across Steve’s back, pushing their faces even closer. The blond man sighed against his lips as the kiss got deeper. Bucky felt the man’s fingers when they slid at the back of his head, gripping on the short strands of hair on his neck.

With a gasp, Steve parted their lips, panting, and their eyes met, their faces just a few inches away.

“Well,” Steve began with a smirk. “I like it, but now ‘t’s harder for me to kiss you properly.”

Distracted by the jump his heart made in his chest, Bucky took a moment to understand that the other was talking about his haircut. 

“Yeah,” was the only thing he managed to say, absorbed by Steve’s eyes.

He had lived so many years, so many months, so many days with the idea that he would never see him again. And the man was there. In front of him. And they were kissing. Tears of relief formed in the corner of his eyes.
It was maybe the best day of his life.

***

It was maybe the worst day of her life.

Peggy hadn’t planned on watching his husband kiss his long lost friend outside their house when she had woken up this morning.

Her hands shaking, she slowly drew the curtains and sank to the kitchen floor.

***

Steve guided Bucky to the front door, and then showed him inside. The house was pretty common, the lobby leading to the kitchen, the kitchen leading to the living room which he could make out in the door frame.

“Cap! Come here, girl!” shouted Steve.

A big dog came into view, its tail wiggling as it licked Steve’s hands. Its fur was all creme, except for its muzzle and ears.

“That’s Cap??” asked Bucky, as the dog sniffed his clothes.
Steve’s smile seemed sad when he answered.
“Yeah. She’s a big girl, now, huh. Three years already. Look, Cap!” he added, more joyfully. “That’s Bucky, remember him?”

Bucky felt his lungs tighten. Yeah, three years. 

“You have kids?” the brown-haired man asked as he heard childish voices in the house.
“Two girls, Anna and Holly.”

Bucky nodded, throat sore. Obviously.

“Do you have any?”

Bucky jumped at the feminine voice that came from his side. His head turned to face a brown-haired woman in the kitchen, in a white sweater tightened by her arms, which were clenched around her body. She studied him with her brown eyes, her eyelashes grouped together as if she had cried not long ago. He frowned, but rapidly smiled.

“Not me, but my partner has a daughter. You must be Steve’s wife?” he added politely as he lifted his hat to salute her. “Bucky Barnes.”
“Peggy Rogers,” she said harshly. 
“An honor to meet you, ma’am.”

She didn’t answer, and faced Steve instead, unbothered by the dog going back and forth between her legs.

“Are we inviting him for dinner? It’s late already.”
“Nah, don’t bother Peg, we’re gonna head out and get ourselves a drink. Might get back home late tonight, y’know, talkin’ and all,” the blond man replied in a bright tone that contrasted Peggy’s.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna go to Nicky with the girls, I think.”
“Great!” Steve kissed her forehead before he waved his hand towards Bucky. “Come on man, we don’t have all night!” he added, a hand on his shoulder.

Bucky could still feel the awkwardness between him and Peggy, but Steve seemed oblivious so he swallowed it, deciding it was his mind messing with him, and went for the door behind the man.

Peggy’s voice stopped him right on his tracks.

“Barnes?”

He faced her again, and their gaze met. He gulped.

“Yeah?” 

Even if it was the first time he met her, he knew those eyes weren’t supposed to be that cold, that broken ; he could see a storm behind the amber irises. The man was struck by her sadness. That could mean only one thing, and at that thought panic made his hairs stand up on his neck.

She knew.

He knew it, it had been too good to be true. He was angry at himself. He clenched his teeth, ready to hear it all, to be yelled at and flooded with insults. It was not the first time. It would not be the last. The only thing he regretted was that this time, he had ruined another man’s life.

“Please.” Her voice was slow. Bucky was taken aback by the softness of her words. “Take care of my husband, okay?” she said nothing for a while. “Don’t let him drink too much,” she finally added, staring at him to be sure he had understood. 
Bucky tried to process what the woman had just said, thunderstruck, as an unexpected, and maybe uneasy bond started to form between them.

He nodded.

“You have my word.”

He headed for the door, joining Steve on the balcony.

It felt strange, having Steve in his car. But it felt good. They talked about anything and everything, trying to make up for lost time. When Bucky glanced at him, Steve seemed relaxed. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, he thought. Maybe the man was happy in this life with Peggy. Who was he to turn their life upside down only for his own interests?

They reached the motel the blond had talked about, and Bucky’s doubts quickly disappeared when Steve’s naked body pressed up against his. 

Everything outside was pitch black, and the room was plunged into darkness except for the double bed illuminated by the bedside lamp, which painted their skin in a honey-like light. They were laying on the bed and facing each other, the blanket tangled in between their legs.
They had been talking all night, but they were now laying in silence, Steve’s fingers slowly brushing Bucky’s skin. 

The brown-haired man had closed his eyes, and the other seemed focused on the patterns his hand drew on Bucky’s torso. 
It was the quietest Bucky’s mind had been for years.

“Y’know…” he finally murmured, eyes still closed. “Right next summer, I went back to Stark. Asked if you had come back even before talking about a job. He said you didn’t come, so I left.”
“Sorry…” Steve whispered back.

Bucky opened his eyelids, and the two of them shifted to gaze into each other's eyes.

“I thought I would never see you again,” Steve went on. “Can’t believe you’re here.”
“I know, pal,” he replied in his breath. 

Silence settled again. Outside, they heard a truck going by the motel, the only sign of life in the immensity of their quietude. They both knew that once the sun would rise, it would be the end. Bucky would drive Steve back to his house, and he would head back to Texas. 

“What are we gonna do?” the man asked in a shiver as Steve traced the outline of the muscles under his skin.
“Don’t know, Buck…” he sighed, and the nickname hit Bucky in the heart. It couldn’t be the end. Not when even Peggy had given him her blessing. Kind of.

He smiled.
“We could go back.”
“What?”
“To the mountain. You and I, just for a day or a night and we could camp.”

A flicker lit up in Steve’s eyes, but he sighed again and turned to fall on his back.
“I don’t know.”

Bucky said nothing.

“ ‘t’s so easier for you, Bucky. You don’t even have a wife, and… I can’t believe she said that.”

He had told Steve the story with Natasha earlier that night, and when Bucky had told him about their talk in the field, Steve hadn’t believed him.

“But I have a wife,” he carried on. “I can’t just… I really like her, Bucky. She’s the best woman I’ve ever met, she’s clever, and funny, and she really cares ‘bout me and I really care ‘bout her. I… I can’t do that to her.”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheeks.
“D’you love her?”

Steve laughed, taken aback by the question. But he didn’t answer right away.
“Always askin’ the deep questions, huh.” He stared at the ceiling. When he talked again, his voice was low, as if he was talking to himself. “I like her… I like her like my friend, like my wife, like the mother of my children. But I never… I can’t love her. I knew it since we got married. ‘t’s wild, huh. I can’t. I really tried, but I can’t and that’s so hard, Bucky, being incapable of offerin’ her what she deserves.”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Bucky took his hand, his thumb brushing it in small circles. How he wanted to tell Steve what Peggy had said to him. But it wasn’t his place to do so. He just hoped the woman would do it herself.

“She likes you just as much, Steve,” he murmured.

The other turned to face him again.

“And maybe…” he wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say. “Maybe you can like her just the same while comin’ with me to that damn mountain.”
Steve stared at him, eyes watery.
“Maybe I could,” he answered.

Tightening his grip on his hand, Bucky smiled. 

“Tell her we’re hiking, or you’re drawing or I dunno, hell, tell her we’re fishing buddies or somethin’.”

Steve snorted.

“What?” the brown-haired man asked.
“That’s what I told her ‘bout you.”
“No way, you didn’t!”

They giggled in the night, and at some point or another they must have fallen asleep, because Bucky woke up with the first rays of sun.

The man mumbled, his eyes stinging with sleepiness. They jolted right open at the sight of the man next to him. Damn.

That was a view he had forgotten about. Steve was laying on his stomach, his face pressed in the pillow. Bucky’s gaze followed the flow of his body, from his neck, down to his spine, and right to his calves. Each one of his hairs seemed brighter than the other, all of them lying on his neck, face, or on the pillow, like a halo. His pale skin reflected the grey light of dawn, and he seemed so smooth to the touch. Bucky let his hand wander between his shoulder blades, and Steve huffed in his sleep.

A tender smile appeared on Bucky’s lips. The man pushed on his elbows, and moved closer to the other. 

“Wake up,” he sang next to his ear.

The blond man grumbled again. Bucky grinned and leaned further down, falling next to the man on the mattress, squeezed against him. He kissed the hot skin, leaving a trail on his neck.

“C’mon, cowboy. Wake up.”

Without even opening his eyes, Steve pushed Bucky and the brown-haired man found himself under him, hot skin against hot skin.

On second thought, they could stay in bed a little longer.

Chapter Text

They agreed ; Steve couldn’t leave his family without planning it beforehand. He had asked Bucky:

“D’you think you can come back next week?”

And the brown-haired man remembered how he had gazed at him, the incandescent hope in his eyes, and lower, hidden in his gaze, the fear Bucky shared : What if he leaves me forever? And Bucky had squeezed his hand while he had stared at him, and he had said:

 
“See you next week, cowboy.”

It was the longest week Bucky had ever experienced. When he came back, he told Natasha everything. Well, not everything everything. But everything important. She hugged him when he wiped his eyes, and he remained silent most of the following days. He tried his best to live as nothing had happened, but all he could think about was Steve. Seven days. Six days. Five days. Four days. Three days.

When it went down to two days, he became insufferable. Bouncing his legs, asking his coworkers if it was the end of the day yet even though the sun was still high in the sky, peering at the clock every two minutes while they ate dinner with Natasha and Kate.

“It’s not even tomorrow, Buck!” Nat exclaimed. “Calm down or I'll knock you out.”
And Bucky knew she would do it, so he tried his best not to glance at the clock too often.

When it was finally Thursday, Bucky wasn’t even there anymore. Didn’t say a word at work, didn’t say a word to Nat. He only talked with Kate, because it was unfair that the little girl should suffer his silence when she didn’t even know what was going on.

In his bed, he couldn’t find sleep. If it was slipping between his fingers for months now, that night he couldn’t even feel sleepiness of any sort. Laying on his back, his hands on his stomach, his eyes were resolutely fixed on the ceiling where the light of the moon coming from the small window painted some incongruous shapes. His limbs were buzzing with impatience and his train of thoughts was lost in foreign lands.

When the door opened, he lifted his head from the mattress.

“Stop thinking, Barnes, ‘can hear ya from over there.”

The man snorted, and Natasha, her hair in a braid for the night and in a nightshirt, closed the door behind her as she entered the room. Bucky wiggled on the bed, making room for the woman to lay down next to him. They both observed the ceiling in silence. It was something they often did, laying in Bucky’s bedroom to talk while Kate was asleep.
But they didn’t talk today.

Nat took his hand and squeezed his fingers hard.
He returned the gesture, sighing as he closed his eyes, his body finally resting. 

In the distance, a single owl hooted.

***

Bucky had driven all day to reach him and they had to drive three more hours to arrive at their destination, so obviously when Steve finally parked the small truck, night was well settled in.

The blond man turned off the engine and the mountain’s silence fell upon them like a mass. That silence where trees squealing was deafening, and cars passing by were replaced by some fox whining in the distance. 
Steve breathed in as he closed his eyes. He had forgotten how much he loved that.

The passenger door slammed shut, and when Steve opened his eyes, the other man was already standing outside, both hands on his hips, smiling widely as he looked up. Moonlight reflected in his eyes and bathed his body in a blue-ish glow. Steve couldn’t detach his eyes from the man, stuck in his seat. After a while, Bucky turned over to beam at him, and Steve had no choice but to return that smile. He wanted to kiss those pink lips so bad.

As he got out of the car, Bucky came over to him, and wrapped his right arm around him.
“I forgot ‘bout that,” the brown-haired man whispered, turning his gaze up again.
Steve looked up at the sky and swallowed. Yeah, he had forgotten too.

He loved stargazing, really, walking in the street with Captain only to contemplate those neon-like dots, but here it was nothing like all those nights in town.

The sky was pure, clean, as if a layer of dust had been swiped off. The sky was pitch black in between the mountain peaks but covered in a billion stars, some of them so tiny Steve wondered how they could be seen, so many that they traced a path in the sky that was as bright as day.
Last time he had witnessed that view it had been three years ago, in this same vale, some miles higher. And with the same man next to him. He turned to Bucky, only to discover the man had been staring at him this whole time. His heart jumped in his chest.

Without even thinking, Steve raised his hand to slightly brush at Bucky’s stubble, lips parted as he breathed shakily.

“We should install the tent a bit farther down…” Bucky murmured, his free hand sliding to Steve’s belt.
“Okay,” Steve replied. He had no idea what the other man had just said.

The kiss was deep, as intense as the first one they had ever shared and all the others that had followed. Steve’s back hit the hood of the truck as Bucky pinned him against it and the blond man ended the kiss. They gazed at each other, panting.

“Let’s pitch this tent, yeah?” Steve chuckled.

Later in the night, they were both lying on their blankets, eyes lost in the stars. Half of their bodies lay under the tent, protected from the cold, but their heads were outside so they could admire the night sky. Its darkness was already fading in a paler grey around the mountains, as the sun was not that far behind the heights. They hadn’t slept yet but it wasn’t important. They had all week to rest, and not enough time together up here.

They woke up late. The December sun lapped their skin, and they started a fire to drink some coffee, lazily sat on some rocks nearby a small stream. Sipping on his cup, Steve stared at Bucky, his shirt off, as the man threw some water on his face. That was the perfect way to wake up, and he couldn’t believe he had waited three years to have it back.

He wanted to see this every morning.

His throat went sore.

He couldn’t see this every morning.

Bucky sat down next to him with his shirt back on, squeezed at his side as he took the cup from Steve’s hand, grinning. The blond peered at him, full of doubts. 
“I like you, Bucky Barnes,” he blurted out.
The other froze, the cup halfway to his mouth.
“Yeah, I hope so,” he joked and took a sip.

“I really, really like you. But I’m not… I can’t be… Queer.”
Bucky wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Yeah. Y’lready told me so, pal.”

Steve looked at him, trying to catch his gaze, but the other man stared at the ground, visibly hurt. Steve sighed. He loved him so much.

He loved him so much that he needed to confess all his secrets to him, to show him all his life and thoughts, to open his guts out in front of the brunet’s eyes. He needed Bucky to understand.
A part of him screamed not to tell him. To let those memories deep down inside of him, hidden from the world. So nobody could use it against him. But he trusted Bucky.

“I fell in love with a boy when I was six.”

Steve heard the shocked silence coming from Bucky. The man clearly hadn’t expected him to talk about that.

“He lived in the house next to ours,” he carried on. “Two years older, blond like me, was a funny kid. Wasn’t sure why at the time, but I knew deep down I couldn’t be in love with him. And then I grew up and I kept drawing and it wasn’t acceptable anymore, ‘t’s when my cousins started calling me a queer. I understood why I couldn’t love that kid.”

He paused, trying to find his words.

“My uncle started to call me a fairy as well. One time, he took me in his car. Just him and I. He never did that. Drove me outside the city, where two guys lived together. Didn’t know them. Never saw them in the streets or in the bars in the city. But my uncle knew them. Everybody in town knew them, and he told me, those are Earl and Rich, y’should always remember their names. He took me by the neck, and pushed me alongside the road ‘til their home. And he showed me. He showed me Earl, on the ground. Dead. Half naked, his dick pulled out of his body by a tire iron. He said nothing more. Clenched his hand hard on my neck.”

Steve fixed his gaze on the yellow grass. He couldn’t cry.

“Rich killed himself two days after. I know ‘cause my uncle joked about it with his friends. I didn’t draw for a year after that. And certainly did not fall in love with any male neighbor again.”

He could hear Bucky exhaling next to him, as if he was trying to catch his breath.

“He was right, I never forgot their names. Earl and Rich. Earl and Rich. Deep down I was so fuckin’ scared to be an Earl and Rich, Buck, that I would hate myself each time I layed my eyes on another man, hated each time a pretty girl would flirt with me and I would look at her brother instead, incapable of listening to what she had to say. And I promised myself to hide those feelings away forever, my uncle’s words echoing in my head. Those two were queers. And those two were dead.”

He turned his face toward Bucky, who already looked at him, elbows on his knees, eyes wet.

“Then I decided to work for a man called Stark, because I loved the tranquility of the mountains,” Steve carried on, a poor smile on his face.

“I’m so sorry, Steve…” the man whispered.

They locked their gazes, both of them incapable of opening their mouths.

“Now all I want is to live in a little ranch somewhere, in those damn mountains, with that stupid man I just met, but I can’t because I don’t wanna be an Earl and Rich.”

Silence was heavy when he finished talking. The wind seemed quieter, water stopped bubbling. The vale slowed down all around him to let him speak. Steve’s heart was pounding in his chest. Bucky wasn’t talking, in shock. Did he go too far? Should’ve shut your mouth.
But Bucky didn’t go away, didn’t say any of the things Steve was scared of hearing. Instead, he stood up and offered his hand to Steve. 

They walked for a long time in the middle of the trees, without a word said.
It was Bucky who broke the silence.

“I kissed a guy when I was fourteen. Way older than me, but I wanted to prove somethin’ I guess. I don’t even remember his name. It felt right, somehow, so I kissed other guys, again, and again, and again. One day, I was walkin’ down the street, had to pick up my sisters from school. Some guys… Some guys were waiting for me. They beat me up, in the middle of the day. Nobody came for me.”

Steve felt his heart shatter at the thought of Bucky, only a teenager, on the ground in the middle of the sidewalk. He wanted to pick this kid up, to hug him and tell him everything was okay. And then he thought about himself, eleven years old, crying in his room, and how much he had needed that hug.

“It happened twice,” Bucky said, and pulled the man from his thoughts. “Never told anybody ‘bout it, but Becca, my sister, always looked at me like she knew something. I got scared, and I slept with less men after allat. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t just be a good man, with a wife, kids, and a happy family. Couldn’t fall in love with any gal the way I fell in love with men. I tried so hard, I cried myself to sleep, I prayed to God I would wake up sane and normal again. It never worked. The feelings never went away.”

Steve wanted to laugh, wanted to say that they felt the exact same way, that he understood so deeply. He said nothing. Instead, he took Bucky’s hand and kept walking as if nothing had happened, hoping everything he wanted to say would be in this gesture. I see you. I know how it feels. I know you love me. I love you just as much but I can’t, I can’t say it, because I can’t be queer, because I will throw up at the idea of being dead in a cabin at the edge of a town. Bucky squeezed his hand, and slowly, they returned to their makeshift camp.

That night, they slept in a tight embrace, hidden in the promiscuity of the tent. Steve, half-awake, stared at Bucky next to him, his face pressed against Bucky’s. He kissed him, his lips only brushing the other’s.
“I love you,” he whispered, but the other couldn’t hear it.

“Look at that, Stevie!” Bucky called as he threw a rock at the water. The pebble skipped eight times. “Yeah! That's what ‘am talkin’ about!!”

Steve grinned as the brown-haired man picked up another rock, inspecting it to make sure it was a good one. They had found a small lake as they hiked and decided to spend the day here. That afternoon was cooler than the day before, reminding them that it was, in fact, already December. Winter was just around the corner. The grass was all yellow and crunchy, the sun low even at noon, the mud was cold under Steve’s butt. Only the pines were unchanged, displaying their needles as green as always. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the other man coming towards him, kneeling in the grass at his side.

“Didn’t bring paper?” Bucky asked.

Steve smiled. 

“Thought I wouldn’t use it. I was wrong.”
“Y’thought you wouldn’t use it? Even when meeting with a handsome guy like me?” Bucky joked, a false shocked expression on his face.

Giggling, Steve pushed him on the shoulder, making the man fall, and they bickered like children for the rest of the day. 

And here it was, the end of the day. End of the trip. They were laying on the grass, Bucky’s hand brushing Steve’s neck. Neither of them wanted to leave.

“Are we doin’ that next week?” Steve asked, his voice not very confident.
“D’you want to?” Bucky smiled.
“ ‘re you seriously asking me?”
“You’re the one asking.”

They both smirked. They were doing that next week.

“I thought ‘bout something…” Steve began. Bucky hummed, waiting. “I could… I could bring Cap with us. Maybe?”
“Please do!” shouted Bucky, and he laughed. “I miss that girl, y’know. I thought about having a dog maybe, I don’t know, every week since we left?”

Steve beamed at Bucky, at that man that had shown up in his life without even a warning beforehand, that man that somehow loved his dog just as much as he loved her himself. He kissed the man hard, pinning him to the mudded ground.

They held hands for most of the ride back. Five days before the next time seemed like an eternity. Bucky briefly saluted Peggy and the girls at Steve’s house before he entered his own car, as he didn’t want to drive all night. Steve stared at the blue car going away, disappearing around a house. He sighed, hung his hat to the coat rail. Five days. Only five days to go. He could definitely do it.

***

It was Friday all over again after what felt like an eternity, and Steve wasn’t sure how he had survived all those years. That time they had taken Bucky’s car, so Captain had more space at the back, but the dog didn’t really care as her head was outside the window, her ears flapping in the wind alongside her tongue. The blond man grinned at her in the rearview mirror. Her good mood was contagious, because Bucky looked just as joyful.

That week had been an ordeal. The worst part was Peggy. Steve’s smile disappeared as he thought about her. She had seemed so distant, so cold. He had told her he was going again on the weekend, and her mood had dropped. She had nodded, had said nothing except for “I’m going to Nicky’s.” Anna had refused when Peggy had offered to come with her and all the woman had done was shrug, looking even sadder, and she had stormed out. Steve didn’t know what to do. He was terrified at the idea that Peggy knew, somehow, but it was impossible. It wasn’t the first friend whom he had gone fishing with. Maybe not for that long, but still. 

It was impossible. 

Yet, Steve felt so fucking guilty. Peggy didn’t deserve to be lied to. He didn’t want to lie either. He was the worst husband she could have had, she deserved so much, Peggy was so funny and clever and kind to him, and she was the best friend he ever had, and all he was doing was hurting her, lying, and– Something wet on his hand pulled him out of his thoughts. The man jumped, only to find Cap, her head squeezed under his arm and stretched to reach his hand out as she looked at him with her big brown eyes.
He sighed and patted her on the head.
“Yeah, thank you, big girl.”

Bucky glanced at him from his seat.
“All good, man?”
“Yeah,” he lied. Again.

Steve watched Captain run alongside Bucky, who laughed as the dog tried to jump on him. The wind ruffled the foliage, the stream flowed slowly at his feet, and he could nearly forget about his problems.

The two men were carrying the camp to the lake they had discovered the previous week, and Steve wasn’t sure how Bucky could run in the middle of the night without stumbling. Just as he thought that, the brown-haired man tripped over a root and fell on the ground with a high-pitched scream. The other burst in laughter and both of them had to sit down with tears on their cheeks, ribs burning as they couldn’t, for the love of god, stop laughing.

Those two days were the same as last time. They talked. They walked. They kissed. They fucked, maybe, who knows. They went for a swim in the lake in the middle of the night, Steve cursing at how freezing cold the water was, Bucky teasing him even though Steve could hear the man’s teeth clattering. Cap was the happiest girl, she ran all day and was all muddy at the end of the trip. Bucky didn’t care as he kept cuddling her, even though the blond man grimaced every time. It felt good.

Steve wasn’t sure he had ever been more himself than those two past days. 

But it got to an end, again, they had to come back, Steve had to kiss Peggy as he entered his house, and his lips burned from the memory of Bucky’s kisses.

As he was laid out on his bed, Peggy curled in his arms, Steve wiped his tears on his skin.

Chapter Text

1966

Peggy looked out the window as a now-familiar blue car went away. Her breath was shaky when she inhaled. She had thought that it would gradually become easier, but it wasn’t true. At all. 

It was already early February, and Steve had gone with this Bucky every week since October – except the two times the weather had been too bad to do so. And to Peggy, it had been the same thing every Friday. Crying. Talking with Nicky. Walking in the cold streets as her friend made dinner for her daughters. Crying again. And every week, the same questions in her mind. What did I do wrong? 
Is it my fault?
What should I do? Should I tell him? Does he know I know?

Every new question was another stab in the wound. Has he ever loved me? 

Walking in the streets only lightened up by the flickering street lamps, she ran out of tears and the real, frightening questions began to pop up in her mind.

What is going to happen when people find out? She shuddered. Behind her eyes, she saw her husband, on their porch, face to face with neighbors shouting at him, trying to come in as their daughters cried on the floor of their bedroom. Peggy took a turn around a corner in the street, skirting a pile of snow, and another mental picture appeared. Her, coming back from work, and as she was finally close to her house, some old and scary man coming towards her. Your husband is dead, ma’am, he declared each time in her head, his face distorted, teeth shining in the night, his head morphing into Bucky’s and Steve’s. But this one wasn’t even the worst one.

No, the worst one was when she pictured herself, screaming at some guys to let go of her daughters, both girls in her arms, their small hands trying not to let go of their mother's neck as tiny nails digged in her skin.

Could they do that?

Would they come for Anna and Holly?

The woman shivered again and her breath formed little clouds out of her mouth. She turned back and headed to Nicky and Larry’s house.
As soon as her feet struck the stone’s pathway of their garden, she took off her coat and when she opened the front door, she hung it on the coat rail frenetically.

“Anna? Are you here?” she called a bit too loud.
“Mommy!” a small voice answered.
“Is your sister with you, darling?” Peggy asked, leaving the lobby to enter the hallway.
As she came closer to the living room, a familiar head came into view.

“They are both in here, sweetie,” Nicky declared, a bright smile on her lips as she carried the younger girl.
Peggy sighed.
“Thank you, Nick.”

She took her daughter off her friend’s arms and hugged her tight as the little girl screamed “Mommy!” happily.
The woman heard light steps, and a young girl rapidly came into view, running as fast as she could for a two-year-old.

“Annie!”
“Mom!”
Peggy laughed, relieved to see both of them safe. She took her oldest in her free arm and squeezed them both.
“What were you up to, my loves?” she asked them, beaming.
Anna went on about how Larry had shown her his newspapers, with pictures of men in court, and a car that had been found in a river near their town. Half her words were unintelligible, but her mother nodded to everything she said as she entered the living room with Nicky.

“Hello Larry,” she greeted the man sat in his armchair.

He saluted her, pipe in hand.

“Do you mind if I leave you with Anna and Holly again?” she asked, embarrassed.
“Not at all. I was actually telling Anna about that car in the Wind river,” the man replied with a nod of his head to Anna, and the little girl wriggled in her mother’s arms. Peggy let her go. She then put Holly down on the couch, and the black-haired man sat next to the toddler to make sure she wouldn’t fall.

Peggy thanked him silently and followed Nicky to the kitchen. The black woman closed the door behind them before leaning on the counter. Peggy did as well on the opposite shelf. She sighed, a sigh so gigantic she didn’t even know she could have that much air in her lungs.

Nicky stared at her with worried eyes.

“He went again?”
Peggy shrugged.
“Obviously.”

Her friend said nothing for a while.

“What do you wanna do?”
“Can I even do something? No, I can’t Nick,” Peggy exclaimed. “Whatever I do, it will be bad for both us and our children.”

Nicky didn’t reply. Out of the corner of her eyes, Peggy saw her friend biting her lips. The latter pushed her body from the counter and stood next to Peggy instead, in a smooth move that was a sad testimony of how many times they had had this same discussion in the little pink kitchen. Nicky took her shoulders in her arm and let her head fall on Peggy’s shoulder.

“I know, Peg,” she let out calmly. “It’s just… It’s so difficult for me, seeing my best friend so somber all the time. You’re a ray of sunshine, Peggy, and I can’t lose that only because a man decided to do whatever he likes.”

The brown-haired woman set her cheek down against her friend’s curly hair.

“But I like him so much… He really was my best friend before we decided to get married. I love him, but I– More than that, I cannot lose that friendship. It’s so precious to me.”

“That’s exactly how I feel about Larry,” the woman answered, a smile on her lips. “He’s the one that never let me down. Deep down, I know that if one day we don’t love each other anymore, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Because we would still love each other, you know. Exactly how I love you, how I love my sisters. That’s what’s important.”

Peggy felt a smirk drawing itself on her face.

“You always have the right words, Nicky.”
“I know,” she joked around.
“I really can’t do this anymore,” Peggy blurted out.

Her friend waited.

“Do you think I should tell him?” the woman whispered, scared of the words that were about to come out of her mouth.
“Tell him what, love?”
“That I know he’s– Queer.”

Saying it out loud was like a bullet through the heart. Up to now, she had always said things like “Steve is in love with a man” or “My husband likes men more than he loves me, Nicky.”
Saying that he was… Queer… Meant it was real. It wouldn’t change. He would never love her again. Her eyes went wet.

“You could.” Nicky stroked her shoulder as she felt how Peggy’s body went tense. “I’m sure it would help. Talking can only do good, you know. That’s how it works.”

She nodded, half-convinced. It was so hard. If she was being honest, she was so angry at Steve. She was even angrier at Bucky. She despised how her husband was lying to her, as naturally as he was breathing. And she despised how the brown-haired man was all smiles around her. Because he knew. That she knew.

She was about to say something else but they heard the front door slamming shut. Nicky frowned and left the kitchen to see what was going on. Peggy heard friendly voices so she decided not to worry and waited for her friend. Seeing people right now wasn’t a pleasing idea.

The brown-haired woman took this time to think about what they had said. She should maybe talk to Steve. From there, they could work all this mess out together. Find solutions. And maybe, she thought, maybe it was only a misunderstanding from the very beginning… 
The kitchen door opened and Nicky came back.

“It’s Jake. Or James, maybe, I don’t know,” she rolled her eyes. “Larry’s coworker at the store. Doesn’t really like me.”

The woman acted nonchalant, but Peggy saw the hurtful look in her eyes and how the woman’s face was now shut.
The white woman stood up to hug her friend. That was her call.

“Thank you for tonight, Nicky. I’m going to put those little imps to bed,” she declared.
“Anything for my best friend, darling. Think about what we said, okay? Talking can only do good.”

Peggy nodded, her heart lighter than it was at the beginning of the evening. She opened the kitchen door and headed to the living room. As she walked, she could hear Larry and his friend talking, their voices becoming clearer as she came closer.

“No way that one was a fairy. You sure it’s what happened?”

She stopped right on her feet.

“No doubt, man, everyone is talking about that. He was with his friend in the car after his father slapped him earlier in the day.”
Larry laughed, and Peggy’s blood froze in her veins. 
“Poor George. Imagine learning your son is some faggot. And then he dies that same night!”

The two men were sitting on the sofa, pipe in hand, looking at each other with detached faces.
Holly was on the man’s lap. Anna next to them. Larry’s friend shrugged.

“Well, two less of them.”

Peggy’s heart sank in her stomach.

Her whole vision darkened while she heard Nicky walking past her, yelling at the two men. Her friend’s voice seemed so far away, like in a dream. Or a nightmare. She saw Larry’s face distorting itself as he became angrier, Nicky’s arms making big movements in the air. Everything was in slow motion. She stared at her friend picking her two daughters up in her arms, pointing at her partner accusingly and looking daggers at his coworker who started to yell back.

“... Don’t want him in my house again, you hear me!”

Sound was slowly coming back to Peggy’s ears. The woman was obviously talking about Larry’s friend.

“Oh my god, calm down, Nicky, we were only talking!”
“Laughing at some kid’s death next to Peggy’s babies, that’s what you were doing!!”
“I don’t understand why you care so much about some queers dying in the Wind river, that’s all!”
“One more word and you’re not sleeping in this house tonight, Lawrence!” the black woman shouted, walking toward Peggy, her steps loud against the floor.

As soon as her gaze met Peggy’s, her angry look disappeared and worry covered her face.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. Do you still want to go home by yourself?”
“Can we go?”
Peggy felt tears in her eyes as Anna’s fear could be heard in her little voice, so scared that even that shy and well-raised girl didn’t care that she had just interrupted an adult.

Suddenly, all the woman could think about was having her daughters safe with her. She took them off Nicky’s arms as fast as she could while her friend stroked her shoulder gently, her eyebrows raised in concern.

“I can walk with you if you want.”

The brown-haired woman shook her head, her throat tight.

“No need. Thank you Nicky. I gotta go.”
She could still hear the two men’s annoyed mumbles in the room next door. Everything was too loud all of a sudden, and she squeezed her girls against her.
“I gotta go,” she repeated.

She didn’t even bother to put her daughters’ shoes on or put her coat on properly, only carrying the clothes in her hands. She stormed out, and as soon as the front door was shut behind her, she heard more yelling in the house. 

“She doesn’t even have a son, why is she so affected by all this?!” was all she caught up behind the wind.

She cried in her daughters’ hair the whole walk back.

Chapter Text

It went on for so long that the flaring fire in Bucky’s chest had burned a hole in his skin. Every week was longer than the previous one. Waiting, again and again, working and talking and eating as if his whole body wasn’t buzzing impatiently. Hadn’t it been for Nat and Kate, he would have exploded already.
But sometimes the man lay in his bed, tears in his eyes and clouds in his guts, wondering if it wouldn’t have been easier without them. Living in his car in Wyoming, working left and right, meeting with Steve every day.

Somehow, because those two were apparently witches, every time he thought about it, a gentle hand would knock on the door and Kate would come in to show a new drawing she had just done.
And every time, she would climb on the bed, squeeze his hand, and explain in detail why she chose to draw the grass spiky.

That evening was one of those. Bucky smiled, and the grin the little girl returned from the doorstep cleared some of the fog stuck inside of him. He sat up to press her back against him as she finished climbing on his bed, and let his chin rest on top of her blond hair. Kate went on with her explanation, some russian words slipping between her English.

Bucky closed his eyes. It wouldn’t have been easier.

It still felt so strange, living with a child. He had mourned the idea of having a normal life long ago, with a house, a wife and a child. But here he was.
Of course, she wasn’t his kid. Their bond wasn’t one of a father and his daughter. And still, that little girl was so important.
She was a real friend.

The idea of being friend with an eight-year-old made Bucky laugh and Katherina stopped talking, a grown-up frown drawing itself on her tiny face.

“That isn’t funny. It’s not my fault if we don’t have any blue pencils anymore.”
Bucky focused back on the sheet of paper the girl was holding, and indeed, the sky was very much pink.
“No, it’s pretty. ‘t looks like a sunset, don’t you think?” he replied.

She rolled her eyes.

“That’s not a sunset, the sky is just pink.”
Bucky simply nodded because yeah, makes sense.

***

That Friday was like every other Friday. The sky was clear above Bucky’s blue car, and even if he drove all day, the trip was almost pleasant. The air was less cold than last time, and the road was now so familiar that the man could fully focus on the music coming from his car radio. He could focus on Steve. The thought made him smile. He couldn’t wait to see him again, to run his fingers through his hair. It was a great day.

It was still a great day when he entered Riverton.
It wasn’t that much of a great day when his eyes met Peggy Rogers’. The woman was outside, in the small garden of the Rogers house, one of her daughters on a swing, the younger on her hip. Her smile dropped when she saw Bucky’s car, and now she was staring at him with cold eyes.

The man winced. He always hated crossing paths with Peggy. They were the most awkward moments of his life, and he always felt so bad after. The weeks when he didn’t see her were the best ones, and it had been months since he hadn’t seen the woman on a Friday. He suspected her to avoid him, though he couldn’t shame her for that, so it felt strange to see her here. Bucky closed his eyes for a second, told himself everything was okay, before he opened the door and finally faced the woman.

He opened his mouth, about to say hello, but he didn’t have the time.

“Go away.”
Peggy’s voice was shaky. Even she seemed surprised by the words jumping out of her mouth. But rapidly, her face morphed. She was now self-assured.

“What?” was all he could say.

“I don’t want to see you again near my family.” From where he was, he could see the tears in her eyes. She squeezed her daughter. “Go away.”

A freezing wind blew inside of his chest.

“Is, uh, ‘s Steve here?”

That was dumb, Buck, he thought and winced again. And it was, indeed, dumb. He saw the pain on Peggy’s face, and tears ran down her cheeks.

“Go to hell, Bucky Barnes.”

His heart beat hard in his chest. Where was Steve? For the love of god, what’s going on? Yes, he had witnessed Peggy becoming less and less friendly as time went by, and yes, he had thought about all the scenarios where he and Steve were separated forever, but this, this, he never imagined this. The wind inside of him roared louder. Peggy’s eyes pierced him from one end to the other.

Was it the end already? Was last week the last time they had seen each other? Bucky felt panic growing in his mind. It couldn’t be. He hadn’t gazed in Steve’s blue eyes enough. He hadn’t kissed him stupid enough, he didn’t even remember how his blond hair looked or if his smile had changed recently. He could see his face in his head but his skin was a blur, he couldn’t tell where his freckles or moles were. Was the one on his cheek on the right or the left side of his face? Fear made his whole body freeze. It couldn’t be it.

Peggy’s gaze was still on him, but he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. He glanced at the windows, searching desperately for a shadow, a glimpse of Steve’s body, but there was nothing. His vision became a blur. Peggy was only a dark figure, growing more and more, swallowing everything around, and all of a sudden Bucky was in his car, driving away. His body did all the work while his mind focused on not freaking out. 

Not very efficiently, because when he pulled over in the middle of nowhere, he was, in fact, freaking out.

Hot, huge tears flowed out of his eyes. His sleeves were soaked wet before he could understand anything, and the man sobbed in his car like a lost kid in a crowd. Bucky didn’t know where he was. Bucky didn’t know anything, all he knew was that the pain in his veins was unbearable. He wanted to tear his clothes apart, he needed to scratch his skin, to stop the burning feeling in his chest. It was stupid, it was so fucking stupid, he shouldn’t feel all this. His sobs didn’t stop. Bucky didn’t understand why he was like that, why he was a fucking mess right now. The man was tired, so fucking tired, all those days in his car driving and driving again and all those nights in the wild jolting away, scared somebody could see them. Was all that for nothing?

Reflect of the tears in his eyes, the sky rumbled and raindrops fell on the road. Everything became hidden behind a thick grey curtain. Bucky couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see shit behind the tears, and the only coherent thought in his head was that he shouldn’t react like this.

He knew it had been too easy for too long. It was finally time to come back to reality: he will never have a life with Steve Rogers. He gazed at the raindrops falling on the car window. He wondered if Peggy told Steve that Bucky came by. If Steve thought he just didn’t come, if he was angry, if he was sad. If Steve was in danger. If he was in danger. His blood went up his head, beating painfully in his temples. Peggy wouldn’t say anything.
Would she?

He had been blinded, had forgotten that all of that was a fucking illness. It wasn’t supposed to exist. He wasn’t supposed to exist.
More importantly, he had forgotten that there were men around determined to make sure he, and all the ones of his sort, didn’t exist.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he repeated, trembling hands rubbing his eyes.

The man exhaled to try to calm down but he was still shaking. It couldn’t be it, it couldn’t be it.

It didn’t have to be it.

Bucky closed his eyes. He could go back right now. Knock on the door. Talk with Steve. He could do it, nothing was stopping him. He clenched his jaw. He had to talk to Steve, at least one last time. Find solutions, maybe. Bid farewells, certainly.
He started the car and turned around, trying to see the road with the night falling behind the clouds.

All the windows were pitch black as he approached the Rogers’ house. Bucky parked the car and frowned at the facade. Were they already asleep? It wasn’t even eight in the evening. The man got out of his car and ran up the stairs, avoiding the rain as much as possible.
Determined, he knocked on the door. Nobody answered. Not a sound in the house. He knocked again.
This time, he heard something. A muffled sound. And then, a low bark and claws against the wooden door. He smiled and kneeled down.

“Hey Cap,” he murmured through the wall. “D’you know where yo’ owners are?”

She barked again. He smiled sadly.

“You’re not helpin’, girl, I’m not gonna lie.”
“The Rogers are not here?”

Bucky jumped and turned around, only to spot an old woman in the street, looking at him from under her umbrella.

“Uh, yeah, no, I’m lookin’ for them,” he replied, fighting against his mind telling him to run away.
“Y’should go ask the Martins, they’re good friends with the Rogers.” There was some disdain in the woman’s voice, but Bucky said nothing, only thanking her when she indicated the street to him.

He went back to his car and drove until he saw the house. Small, but lovely, the woman had said. With flowers at the windows even in the middle of winter.

Bucky walked all the way to the front door, his boots splashing in the puddles that formed on the stone slabs and, with stress starting to build up in his chest, knocked. He could hear lively chatter in the house, and a knot began to form in his stomach. And then, footsteps. The door opened, revealing a younger, well-dressed man, with black hair and a mustache.
He glared at Bucky from head to toe, visibly upset.

“Hello?” he simply asked.
“Hi, I’m, uh- looking for Steve Rogers. You’re Mr. Martin, right?”

The black-haired man frowned, and Bucky saw anger appear in his eyes.

“Why are you looking for him?”
“I’m-” Bucky began.
“You’re the one, aren’t you?” the man interrupted him.

The cowboy’s body froze.

“Yeah, you’re the one Peggy talked about,” he continued. Bucky could see his gritted teeth between his lips. “I should have known, it’s written on your fucking face.”

Bucky couldn’t move. He caught sight of a silhouette behind the man in the hallway.

“Larry, please, now’s not the time for your friends, Peggy is-”

The black woman stopped talking when she saw Bucky.

“Who’s that?” she asked from behind her companion, uncertain.
“I’m looking for Steve Rogers,” was all Bucky said, the words jumping out of his mouth in a hurry, before the named Larry grabbed his collar. The woman screamed, another one came running in the hallway. Peggy, thought Bucky as he caught a glimpse of her brown curls.

He saw the terror in her eyes before being brought back to reality as Larry yelled at him, his hands hard against his shirt.

“All you queers know how to do is destroy families, huh!! You egotistical piece of shit!!”

Bucky gritted his teeth back at him, grabbed Larry’s wrist and pulled.

“Y’don’t know what you’re talkin’ about!!” he yelled.
“Larry, let him go!!” yelled the other woman, trying to pull his arm.

Peggy was sobbing, head in her hands. Bucky could hear little girls screaming in the house.

Everyone was yelling. A dog barked in the distance.

The man finally let go and Bucky took three steps back, ears buzzing. The couple started fighting, the woman squeezing Larry’s arms in hers so he couldn’t harm Bucky. Peggy was staring at Bucky. Silent tears ran down her face.

Bucky stared back at her. They were both terrified. A scream louder than the others coming from Larry’s mouth startled the brown-haired man, and with a last glance he ran to his car. With all of that he was soaked wet. A powerful sound made him look back. The black woman was holding her cheek while she gawked in horror at her lover. Peggy was clutching her friend, and now she was the one yelling at the black-haired man.

Bucky clenched his jaw, jumped in his car and drove away.

Exactly like earlier that day, he didn’t go far and instead he pulled his car along the road, two or so blocks away. The man glanced at his trembling hands on the steering wheel.
It was the end.
He didn’t know where Steve was. Everyone knew he was queer. He had to leave and never come back and never see Steve again and he couldn’t say he loved him before going away forever.
Bucky let his head fall on the wheel. He was trying hard not to cry.

He breathed in. Breathed out.

Breathed in again.

He focused on his breathing for a long time.

Minutes. Hours. Days maybe. He knew if he stopped he would cry again. It felt like weeks. Months.

The passenger door opened and he jumped, his eyes jolting right open. Peggy sat in the passenger seat. She was looking resolutely in front of her, face red from crying. Didn’t even glance at Bucky. Didn’t flinch when raindrops fell from her hair right on her nose.
The man stared at her, speechless.

Only the rainfall broke the silence around them.
Bucky could feel his brain rumbling inside of him, struggling to make sense of this situation. At a loss for words, he tried to articulate a coherent sentence.

“I-”
“I don’t want to talk to you.” 

Bucky winced. At least that was pretty clear. He waited. And waited again. The situation would almost be comical, really, if only tears weren’t ready to jump out of his eyes.

“He’s… Steve’s at the bar,” Peggy eventually added in a softer voice.

The man felt his shoulders unwind. He closed his eyes as they finally turned wet.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

They drove together through town, only talking when Peggy pointed the correct direction to Bucky. 

He was a mess. He had to force himself to keep his eyes on the road instead of on Peggy. He could see Steve with her. Driving the car and telling a joke, their daughters in the back seat, Captain in the trunk. Coming back home, playing with the girls, drawing on the couch, kissing Peggy on the mouth, smiling at her.
He could see the loving gaze in Steve’s eyes.

Bucky knew it was all a lie. Steve couldn’t love Peggy. But it was a beautiful lie, a simple lie, a safe lie and maybe he was all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t worth it. He remembered the cries of the little girls in the house earlier. He remembered their faces when he had seen them in the front yard, and suddenly he saw Kate. Her blond hair and full cheeks, and he heard her scream, in a stranger's house while adults fought at the front door. He saw her tears, how afraid she would be.

He wanted to scream, to squeeze her in his arms alongside Steve’s daughters, and murmur to them it would be okay, everything would be okay, nobody was coming for them.

Was it true?

His throat tightened.

Could he protect Kate?

He could.

Stop seeing Steve. Live with Nat forever, marry her, even. And Steve would live with Peggy and everything would be fine.
That’s what he had to do. Anything to protect those he loved. He just had to turn to face Peggy, admit he was sorry, that he was leaving. For good, this time. It was so simple.
He opened his mouth.

“That’s the bar, right there,” Peggy announced.

The man slammed his foot on the breaks. Shut his mouth.

By the side of the road, the old bar had warm light coming from the windows, illuminating the wet concrete in the night.
Steve was somewhere in there. At the thought, Bucky’s heart sped up. He laughed at himself, bitter. He knew himself too well, and he just couldn’t let Steve go away like that.

Peggy sighed and she looked at the brown-haired man for the first time since she entered the car.

“I’m going to see Nicky and my daughters while you’re in there. Try not to stand out. Okay?”
“Yeah, I- wait!”

The woman had already opened the door, and the sound of the rain was more insistent in the car. She looked back.

“You’re gonna catch a cold in that storm.”
“I’m okay, Barnes. It’s not that far away.”
“I can drive you back.”
“No,” her voice was firm. “You, you go in that bar and talk to Steve.”

They stared at each other.
Bucky was the one who broke eye contact.

“Okay,” he sighed. “Take my coat at least. Steve’s gonna kill me if he learns I let you go like that.”

The woman’s gaze was sad when she smiled.

“Thank you.” 

They both got out of the car, squinting against the wind, Peggy with the coat on her head.
She ran across the road and Bucky walked to the door of the building.

“Barnes!”

He turned around at the sound of Peggy’s voice.
The woman was standing under a street lamp on the other side of the road. 
She seemed worried, biting her lip in the dark.

“Steve…” she began. “Steve has never been as happy as he has been since you two met.”
Bucky felt his heart in his throat.
“When he came back after that summer where you worked together, he was miserable. I never saw him so depressed, so distant and withdrawn. He would go out and not come back for hours and hours. And then he received a letter…”

She smiled wistfully.

“After every weekend you spend together, he has those sparks in his eyes, and they’re so bright, so bright that it blinds me, Barnes. His sketchbooks are filled with drawings, our walls are full of his paintings. He may seem distant but he’s so happy. He plays with Anna and Holly, he tells them stories of your adventures. I never know which ones are true or a fantasy, but the girls love them. When he goes out to walk Captain, he comes back within an hour, smiling.”

He couldn’t cry in the middle of the street, so Bucky clenched his fists.

“He can live without me. I can live without him, I have my friends, I have my daughters, I have my mom and dad. Steve…” her voice broke. “Steve can’t live without you.”

A car drove by between them.

“Barnes?” Peggy asked, her voice almost inaudible in the rain.
“Yeah?” Bucky replied as time seemed to stretch. Peggy stared at him, her gaze firm, her smile soft on her lips. If Bucky didn’t know Nat, Peggy would have been the strongest woman he ever knew.

Exactly like all those months ago, she told him: 
“Please. Take care of my husband, okay?”
She added with a sad wink:
“Don’t let him drink too much.”
And exactly like all those months ago, he replied: 

“You have my word.”