Work Text:
Twelve year old Steve with his knobby knees, threadbare clothes and bruised shins throws a final punch before one kick knocks the wind out of him and he slams against the pavement. Brooklyn's icy wind bites through his well worn trousers and each second feels like his skin is thinner, as it were he were nothing more than a twig in the wind. Just as he's bracing himself for a thick fist to collide with his nose, Bucky bolts in out of nowhere and makes the bully spit blood. Steve is almost positive that the kid will be sporting one less tooth tomorrow. Serves him right. You can't hurt someone and get away with it. You cannot take things that are not yours to take.
Bucky tugged him up effortlessly and threw an arm around his shoulders. "What'd Tommy do this time?"
Steve slumps as they make their way out of an alcove on the playground. "He threatened Cecilia. She wouldn't give him her lunch money so he said he'd tell her ma she'd been sneaking and wearing lipstick at school."
Bucky chuckled and released him, shaking his head. "I dunno, Steve. I'm pretty sure you scout out the place and pick the biggest guy to run after. You like getting punched? Is that it?"
Busted lips and black eyes are the very opposite of Steve's idea of a good time. He'd rather eat beets than get socked in the face but someone has to do what's right and if they won't then he will.
"He had it coming," Steve grumbled.
Bucky latched onto the monkey bars and swung himself from one to the other as he spoke. "You're right, he did. I don't much care for bullies." With that, he released and scraped his knee on the pavement as he fell. No big deal, he'd get his ma to put a piece of medical tape over it when he got home.
Steve swiped at the cut along his lower lip and grimaced. That was going to hurt tomorrow, for sure.
"Tell you what. We'll be like Bonnie and Clyde, you and me." Bucky paused. "Without the killing and robbing, I mean. We'll stick together and take down anyone who touches us. Even when we're grown. Sound good to you?"
They'd always had that dynamic. Why should that change with time or age?
"Sure, Buck. Whatever you say although we could be superheros instead. Maybe."
They'd save the world at one anothers side; an unstoppable force.
Bucky grinned and pulled Steve down beside of him to sit on the pavement away from the other children who were loudly screeching or arguing over a game of marbles.
"Superheroes. I like the sound of that, yeah. You're on, pal."
+
[2016]
Siberia is a hellscape as far as Steve is concerned. Not only is it heavily littered with snow but the wind picks up every so often and makes his fingers feel as if they're frozen solid and stiff. He can handle the bitter cold better than he could prior to the serum which is a godsend in itself (he takes a moment to silently thank Erskine for that) but that doesn't mean he's not positively miserable.
Anger and a lump of dread in his stomach encourage him to trudge on. The thought of Bucky being housed in such a miserable place with no sign of life or any shred of help makes him livid.
The only sound that catches in the wind is the echo of boots crunching against piles of snow as Bucky trails behind, sniper rifle at the ready. His face reveals nothing aside from deadly calm and a glint of anger in his eye. Here is a prisoner returning to his cell; a victim facing his own bloody past. Steve wants to take him by the hand and drag him away from the heavy double doors. He'd love nothing more than to torch the place until nothing remained but a pile of ash but this is not his journey. These floors did not hold his blood, sweat and tears. These walls did not harness Steve's screams as he begged for mercy.
No. That trauma is Bucky's alone and Steve cannot save him from what he cannot see.
They scale the perimeter inside to ensure that any potential threats could be dealt with before moving forward. The building is eerily empty and the closer they get to the holding room the more Steve's skin crawls.
The elevator doors creak as they step inside. Every inch of the place feels tainted as if the building itself were painted in blood and terror.
Bucky purposely avoids Steve's gaze and focuses instead on the ceiling of the elevator before his eyes dart toward the door. He's nervous and Steve doesn't need to look in his eyes to know it, to feel it. It's one thing to return to a place that once broke you. It's a whole 'nother thing to actually go to the exact room where the majority of the abuse happened. It's likely that even the elevator held bad memories for him which made him cagey as if he were plotting alternative escape routes should everything go wrong.
Steve stares and refuses to break his gaze. He has spent too many months and sleepless nights chasing bad leads just to come up empty handed. If this is all they've got then he wants to commit every detail of Bucky's face to memory. He'll sketch it later when there's time to breathe.
Bucky continues to avoid eye contact and Steve wills him to stop, turn to me.
Look at me, Buck. Look. You're safe. I'm here. Superheroes, remember? We're superheroes. Whoever is down there can't hurt you, I won't let them. I'll shield you with my own body if I need to. They'll have to go through me to get to you.
Instead he remains silent until Bucky surrenders and stares back; mouth tight and blue eyes filled with worry.
It's instinct that pushes him forward into Bucky's space. It's desperation that makes him cover a metal hand with his own. Bucky's eyes cloud over with confusion at the touch but he doesn't budge.
In the end it's one name that changes everything.
"Buck," Steve whispers.
In the stillness of the elevator there lies hate and pain from years of Hydra's abuse. And then there is the other side of the coin: hope. Decades of wanting and not taking. It hangs in the air like the lingering final note of Bucky's favorite song and nothing this perfect could be wrong.
Bucky shutters as Steve presses a kiss to his skinned knuckles. It's both reassurance and a question interwoven. Steve nods once without breaking eye contact with Bucky - Is this okay? he asks. When you've known and loved somebody for this long you find that sometimes words get in the way.
Bucky blinks and stares for a moment before lifting Steve's hand to his lips. It's a gentle whisper of chapped lips against pale knuckles. It's in this moment that Steve Rogers realizes there is no getting over Bucky Barnes. For as long as he lives he'll dream of blue eyes and warm lips against his skin just as he'd dreamed of those same eyes staring back at him through a whiskey haze in 1943. For that matter, he hadn't even tried to move on. Natasha had offered up numerous dates with strong beautiful women and he'd turned down every last one of them with the excuse of being too busy which was an outright lie. When he wasn't trapezing around the world with the others he was either running after dead trails or camped out on his couch with the excuse that he still hadn't finished the list of things he'd missed while under the ice. Yeah Sam had called him out on that lie but had the decency to only do it once.
It begins with a single nod.
Bucky nods and Steve closes the distance. He cups Bucky's face with trembling fingers. His thumb finds the ridge of Bucky's cheekbone as he gently brushes against it. Time is running out but Bucky deserves better than a rushed and sloppy kiss. As it is, he does not take well to being touched. He has spent too many years with ham fisted Hydra agents digging bruises into his skin or slapping him across the face until it stung. Yeah Steve had read about that. The arrogant bastards had jotted it down in their notes.
Bucky deserves nothing less than actual I'd-die-for-you love and if there's one thing that the serum did not supply him with it's how to love Bucky Barnes in a way that doesn't hurt.
Still, he's willing to learn.
He places his thumb in the crook of Bucky's chin and coaxes his lips to part then brushes his own against them once, twice. If heaven exists it'd feel like Bucky's warm skin under his hands for all of eternity, he's sure of it.
Bucky's fingers find their way into a small patch of exposed hair at the nape of Steve's neck as his fingertips brush against it. Steve's skin breaks out in goosebumps as Bucky pulls him in to deepen the kiss.
Stay stay stay, he never says.
He gets lost in the feeling of Bucky's tongue slowly caressing his own in a way that makes every bit of cold disappear. It's warmth and every I love you they never had the chance to voice composed in a series of kisses, one after the other. His hands skim over Bucky's biceps, over the thick leather that covers his chest, over hipbones that angle toward him and come to rest on the curve of Bucky's lower back. He doesn't miss the shutter that racks Bucky's body with each touch nor does he miss the actual genuine smile that breaks through the kiss.
(He will remember every detail of this memory long after Bucky is gone and it will hurt even more than he thought it would)
Just as he's leaning in for another, the elevator dings. It's a bleak reminder of the world that exists outside the safety of Bucky's arms.
"Like Bonnie and Clyde," Steve whispers as he reluctantly releases the one person in the whole world over who means the difference between Steve existing as a hollow shell and actually living. Bucky's eyes light up as he remembers.
"Like superheroes," he replies with a wide smile that causes the skin around his eyes to crease and a row of perfect white teeth to show.
They step out of the elevator.
+
He doesn't know it yet but Steve will have to learn a painful lesson on this day: sometimes a bully can look just like a friend and sometimes being a superhero isn't all that it's cracked up to be.
He will make a choice. It will always be Bucky.