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buckyismybicycle · 2 years

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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Rating: Mature Tags: Angst, Not A Fix-It, Canonical Character Death, Temporary Character Revival, Weddings, Crying, Goodbyes, Grief/Mourning, brief vague mentions of sexy times Summary: Maybe it’s not a smart choice, but Steve has to take it. He has to. He always said he would do anything to see Bucky again, would give anything just to talk to him one last time.The room’s atmosphere changes entirely, as if a hurricane of warm winds rushed through it even though nothing moves, and suddenly, in a shimmer of orange, a silhouette starts to form.

For @whumptober Day 8: Back from the Dead For @cabottombingo Bingo E1: "Missed Opportunities"

It’s not often that Steve would call himself a desperate man but he understands, truly now, the meaning of “desperate times call for desperate measures”. The world isn’t the same. This is something that he’s had to make peace with. It all starts when he wakes up in the middle of what they claim is New York, but doesn’t sound or look or smell like New York. It starts with a man in an eyepatch and a black trenchcoat by the name of Nicholas Fury. It starts when he realizes that Bucky is truly, woefully, forever gone.

It’s a no-brainer that Steve wants to catch up on everything that’s happened, and wants to know how his friends made out after the initial shock wears off. He works himself up to it, his team has already warned him a hundred times what happened.

It doesn’t hurt any less when he sees the taunting, large block letters reading across the dossiers.

DECEASED.

MISSING IN ACTION.

DECEASED.

Steve always knew that Peggy was a resilient, brilliant woman. Her folder is the only one that doesn’t have those horrendous, bright red letters screaming up at him.

RETIRED.

It doesn’t tell him where she is – he had asked the information be omitted since he wasn’t really sure what he’d do with that information anyway. If the past is truly dead and gone, why reopen such a fragile, fragmented piece of it? Peggy Carter was a woman he had kissed once, and promised a dance to, but she was a woman that had lived a long, successful life marrying someone who had stayed with her for decades.

The last folder in his pile, the one that he’s dreading the most, holds three words that never fail to make the frayed edges of his heart unravel so alarmingly fast. It’s the closest he’s ever felt to dying, the Valkyrie be damned.

KILLED IN ACTION.

The thing is: Steve had never wanted to believe it. Part of him thought of all the times Bucky had saved him, all the times he had stepped up for him, fought for him, bled for him. When they were children, Bucky had been his superhero, so really, it only made sense that he would come through again, right? He knows it’s against all odds, against all probabilities, for Bucky to come back to him, like he used to; it’s a naïve hope, but some days it's the only thing that keeps him going.

SHIELD gives him a purpose — it tells him that he’s still needed and that he still has value. All the things that he had originally wanted to enlist for, SHIELD has given him. Even as he looks up to the red, blue and white shield, revamped from Howard Stark design, that sense of justice and pride swells within him. It just seems more hollow now that he doesn’t share it with Bucky.

When he’s out in the field, and sees a man drop, he has to resist the urge to look behind him, to salute Bucky. Because it’s Clint's voice in his ear, not Bucky’s. When a pistol goes off, and Steve knows that there’s a difference in the sound, his mind still tricks him into believing it’s Bucky’s sniper. But it’s not, it never is, it never will be again. The thought cuts through him, deeper than any bullet.

He’s been told that time will help him heal, but he’s really not sure that’s true. In fact, he thinks the words of Rose Kennedy sum it up for him perfectly.

It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessons. But it is never gone.

Except for some days, the pain doesn’t pass at all. He’s still left with the feeling that his heart is trying to claw its way out of his chest at any given moment. It’s not like he doesn’t try. He does what the doctors tell him to do — he takes his walks, he eats three square meals, he sleeps — well, he doesn’t exactly get the recommended amount of sleep, but he tries.

The thing about New York is, it feels like he’s supposed to be coming home, because it had been his home for so many years, that seeing it like this is jarring. It’s not the Brooklyn he knows, and he understands that times have changed and so has he, but it doesn’t stop him from yearning. Because if his home had been with Bucky and his home has changed, then that’s just one more piece he’s lost. One more connection to Bucky, one more memory of them, one more thing he can’t gain back.

He goes on every mission that’s available. He’s certain that Fury is aware, and he’s being taken advantage of. He’s also aware that Natasha is keeping a close eye on him, worried he’ll compromise them. He knows that Clint is also looking at him, worried for a different reason, perhaps. But all eyes are on him once again. It’s why he can’t stop and stare when he sees a navy blue pea coat in a store window, or why he chooses to visit the Smithsonian during hours that nobody else is there hidden behind his baseball cap and hunched shoulders. He doesn’t cry, when he sees Bucky’s face, when he hears the speakers say that he was the only Howling Commando to give his life in the war. No, he waits until he’s back in his room, door locked, and under his covers. That’s when he cries for Bucky, emptying everything inside of him until he’s hollow.

His therapist knows that he grieves. Maybe not how much, but she knows. She asks him things like “how are you feeling” and Steve is of the opinion that if she really knew, she wouldn’t be asking.

Still, he’s pretty honest with her, all things considered. At least, he tries to be. He tells her that he feels like a man out of time. He says he feels like he had only just found his purpose before it was taken and this is now some sort of strange compensation. He feels naked.

She tells him that all of these things are normal, but how can she really know? He is, and doubtedly, the only person in the world in this position because there isn’t anyone else like him in the entire universe, and the one person who would’ve tried to understand him, or love him regardless, is gone.

Steve is, by no common means, a modern man. He tries to follow along with what Stark says. Maybe it’s just that Tony talks too fast or that his tech is even more advanced, but it all seems like too much all at once. He likes Netflix. He likes Spotify. He even manages alright with online shopping.

But what really sets him off and throws him for a loop is the fact that he can pull up Bucky's face anywhere at any time. Pages of history books, recreation in the form of art, imagination, and dreams. He discovers fanart, and can’t help but read some of the comments. Sometimes he agrees with them, like yeah, you’re right, Bucky was too handsome for his own good.

The more he looks at the art, the more his fingers itch. Technically, it’s been decades since he’s picked up a pencil. But when he browses through pages and pages, he can’t help but think to himself actually, his eyes were way more blue than that or his hair’s much wavier on top than that. The black-and-white photographs in the textbooks don’t do any justice to the Bucky Barnes Steve knew and lo —

He always ends up putting his phone down.

Worse than technology was: magic. It was, at first, a dream. He thinks about magic tricks, about Bucky waving a deck of cards in his face asking him to pick one out. He thinks about Bucky using his party tricks to make the girls giggle and ask him to reveal his secrets. This magic though, the magic that he sees from Dr. Stephen Strange, it’s beyond a deck of cards or a nickel behind the ear.

It’s Peter that originally gives him the idea. He happens to overhear the conversation between the teenager and the sorcerer.

He knows that it’s been hard for Peter, having his identity revealed like that. He can’t imagine what that’s like. The war, when it happened, demanded all of Steve, both as Steven Grant Rogers and Captain America. His face is in museums and books, there wasn’t any hiding. So, he can imagine what Peter feels, just a little bit — what Peter is going through.

“Please, Dr. Strange. They don’t deserve this, just because of me.”

Steve can hear the desperation in Peter’s voice as he pleads with Dr. Strange for his friends and his family more than for himself. That part, Steve can relate to. He likes Peter, he thinks that Peter is noble, and he understands why Peter is making a request. That’s why it feels even more awful that Steve knows there’s nothing they can do about it. That is, until Dr. Strange surprises him.

Now, Steve isn’t one to question Dr. Strange usually, but there is something very concerning about using what seems like a very powerful spell for such a simple problem.

“Well have you called them and asked them to reconsider?” Steve asks, a memory from his own past creeping in.

“Um… I can… do that?” Peter asks with a doe-eyed expression.

“CAN YOU — YOU DIDN'T EVEN ASK?” Dr. Strange hollers.

Peter, at least, has the audacity to look sheepish at the question, while Stephen looks about two seconds away from throwing Peter into an unknown dimension.

“We had this art program,” Steve starts, with his eyes glued to the floor as the memory replays in his head. “There’s no way that I could have afforded it of course, and I absolutely refused to let Bucky pay for it, but he was determined to get me in there. I didn’t think there was a way either. So you can imagine my surprise when the letter of acceptance comes to me. I got mad, went to yell, but he said that all he did was plead my case. Walked right into the building with my sketchbook and without my permission, but he told them that I absolutely needed it. And what do you know? It worked.”

He’s proud of himself for not choking up — it’s one of his favourite memories of Bucky, the way those blue eyes lit up when he regaled Steve of his exploits. He couldn't believe it. Actually, he hadn't, and he’d spent a whole week being suspicious of Bucky, even after the man had tossed his cash on the table as if to say “well if I paid for your program, how could I still have this?!”

The first day of the program, he’d asked who paid for his admission. That’s when he learned what a grace entry was, that every so often, exceptions are made for those with enough talent.

Steve had made it up to Bucky that night, and every night after. Up until the war took him.

☆☆☆

So Peter does call MIT, and both MJ and Ned get accepted and all is well. Except that it isn’t.

Because now, he thinks about the fact that Doctor Strange holds enough power to wipe people's memories, just like that. He can do a lot of things. He has the ability to turn back time, to make Steve’s life whole again. The thought consumes him.

He does his best to rationalize himself that you should never mess with time travel because that’s what he had told Peter. He tries to distract himself by looking at his phone, where a smiling picture of Bucky looks back at him from his lock screen and Steve knows with all of his heart that he’s fighting a losing battle.

At least he sits on this for a month, and he’s quite proud of himself for that actually. He tries to talk himself out at least 2,000 times, but to no avail. So when he approaches Doctor Strange, he doesn’t expect the knowing smile on the sorcerer‘s face.

“I had a suspicion that you would ask.”

“Ask what?”

The only answer he gets is a small know-it-all grin, while he follows Dr. Strange inside his sanctum wondering why there was snow, of all things, covering every inch of the place.

“Coffee?” The doctor asks, waving his own steaming mug in the air.

“No, thank you. Were you expecting me?”

“I was actually expecting you sooner,” Dr. Strange answers truthfully after a sip of his beverage. “The story you told Peter — was it true?”

“It was.”

“Hm,” Doctor Strange hums as his eyes drift across the Sanctum. “I’ve seen that look on your face before, when you speak of him.”

There’s something wistful in Dr. Strange’s eyes, and now that Steve thinks about it, his place seems quite big and lonely. He thinks Dr. Strange might understand him better than he thought.

“What’s with all the snow?” Steve finally asks.

“You didn’t come here to ask about my snow, follow me.”

It's not Steve’s first time at the Sanctum, but it is his first time being led around and given an actual tour. It’s fascinating, the things that Strange has kept — he would ask about it, if he was certain it wouldn't just create more questions.

He’s being led downstairs, where the walls are decorated and warmly coloured. It’s here that Strange stops his entire world with a sentence.

“I can bring him back for one day, and one day only.”

☆☆☆

He doesn’t even think twice; he doesn’t ask for more or bargain because he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. It’s the easiest thing he’s ever done since waking up, saying yes.

“The longest day of the year is in ten days, if you want to wait, it’ll give you a few minutes more.”

Steve nods emphatically. Anything — he would do anything for all the time he could get. He takes the ten days to plan, and think about what he’s going to do with that precious time. His stomach is in constant turmoil, bunched with nervousness to the point where he even has a hard time eating. The rest of the team notices almost immediately, of course, but when they asked, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Not yet, anyway. Bucky… Bucky was his deepest secret, back in the day, and he’d hated it. But now, it feels like simply Bucky to himself a little while longer.

By the time a week had passed, he was insufferable. He’d stopped accepting messages from Fury, too distracted and jittery.

It’s Nat that breaks him first, with a glare and arms crossed over her chest in a way that strikes fear in most.

He explains, sheepishly, hoping that he’s not getting his hopes up too high, and it feels like something cracks inside him. Suddenly, all his fears bubble to the surface. He’s afraid that he’s being too naive and that maybe he’s trifled with something he really shouldn’t have. What if Bucky comes back… not Bucky? What if he comes back with no memory of who Steve is?

He should have really asked Strange for details, he thinks belatedly.

“Cap, I…”

For once, the Black Widow is speechless.

“Yeah.” Steve knows he’s in over his head, but that doesn’t quite matter now, does it?

☆☆☆

It’s a lot less fanfare than he had originally expected. He’d had it in his mind that magic was fancy and colourful, like he’d expected Dr. Strange to throw glitter or for fireworks to go off, but the actual affair is far from any of that. Maybe it’s because of how dark it still is, that it seems a lot duller than he imagined.

Dr. Strange closes his eyes for a brief moment, concentrating, and Steve can feel it. The room’s atmosphere changes entirely, as if a hurricane of warm winds rushed through it even though nothing moves, and suddenly, in a shimmer of orange, a silhouette starts to form. Steve tears up as the shape begins to take on definition, recognizing each line it makes – the slope of Bucky’s forehead, his cheekbones, that jawline. He watches in amazement as an Adam’s apple forms with his neck, which blends into the familiar slant of Bucky’s shoulders and arms.

It’s really him. Bucky, looking every bit as Steve remembered, but in the times where they were happy. Finally, Steve can finally replace the last memory he has, of the terror on Bucky’s face as he had fallen, hand stretched out for his. It’s haunted him every day, the few inches between his fingers and Bucky’s, the fact that he couldn’t save the person he cared about the most.

“Holy –”

Steve chokes a bit, watching Bucky’s eyes widen as he takes in his surroundings.

“Stevie?”

God – god – how he’d been dying to hear that, to hear Bucky’s voice saying his name so sweetly with the inflection that is only Bucky. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around Bucky so tightly he can actually hear Bucky wheeze as the air’s knocked out of him.

“Bu - Bucky,” he sobs into the other man’s shoulder, willing himself to loosen up, at least enough to let Bucky breathe.

“Yeah, pal, m’right here,” Bucky replies, though his arms still encompass Steve, confusion evident in his voice. “Where exactly is here?”

“Allow me,” Dr. Strange interjects. Honestly, Steve had momentarily forgotten the doctor was even here. “I’m sure this is all quite sudden and confusing for you. You’re in the future now. The year 2019, to be exact.”

“Two thousand and –” Bucky stops, and pries himself out of Steve’s grip for a moment to look him in the eye. “I dunno what grandstand alla this is, or who this poor soul is in cahoots with ya, but 2019? Come on, Steve –”

Steve had thought about it, of course. He remembered how jarring it had been to wake up in this totally new world, how much he wishes he could have eased into it. So he holds Bucky’s hands, squeezing the life out of them and implores him to trust this process, before Dr. Strange can continue.

“I promise you, I’m gonna explain it all, but you know I would never lie to you. I’m tellin’ ya, this is real.”

Bucky’s definitely not convinced in the slightest, but he does trust Steve, and that’s enough. “Ya betta not be raggin’ on me, pal.”

☆☆☆

Steve knows he has to be patient. It’s a huge shock to the system and he of all people should know that, but he can’t help the impatience that edges in, too. He has less than twelve hours with Bucky, and he doesn’t want to waste a single second.

He’s rushing the explanation, watching Bucky’s eyebrows do a complex dance of disbelief throughout it.

“What utter nonsense did you jus’ force me to listen to?” He shakes his head, eyes widening, overwhelmed with information. “That’s cockeyed, Stevie, whaddya take me for? I ain’t a schnook – I can’t be – dead.”

“You are,” Steve insists, pained. “Believe me, I wish more than anything that it wasn’t. And it’s all my fault, good, I’m sor –”

“Alright, enough o’ that, none of this is your fault,” Bucky sighs, even though he’s not entirely sure what’s happening. It’s all strange, and sudden, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful just to see Steve again. Logically, he knows there’s some truth to what Steve is saying, given how he’s dressed and how he talks. His accent is… smoother, lilted differently. He sure ain’t just a kid from Brooklyn anymore.

“So much has changed, Buck,” Steve starts again. He tells him the important things, the technology that he knows Bucky would just die to see. The people they knew and where they’d ended up.

“Wait, so,” Bucky holds up a hand, his head shaking. “You’re tellin’ me that Howard never finished that flyin’ car, got himself a son, and he didn’t finish a flying car either but he made a flyin’ suit?”

Steve blinks. “Well you just make it sound stupid.”

“Oh for cryin’ out loud, let’s go! Show me everythin’!”

☆☆☆

Bucky walks a little stiffly beside him, eyes darting all over the city as they walk along, Steve’s hand on Bucky’s back.

“Buck, I promise you, it’s okay these days.”

He can see that Bucky doesn’t quite believe him, but the longer they walk, the more he loosens up, seeing that nobody’s making a fuss. Slowly, he works his hand into Bucky’s, ignoring the way Bucky’s eyes grow large. He distracts Bucky by pointing out just about everything, and even though they’ve only gone around one block, Bucky’s eyes are as wide as saucers when they get back to the tower, where JARVIS then promptly blows his mind.

Steve shows him all the Stark Tech he has, his phone, the TV. He introduces him to the Roomba and orders them a ridiculous spread of food. He wants Bucky to try everything.

Bucky’s face lights up at all the things he’s been shown and Steve –

Steve falls in love with him all over again, and it feels like danger. It makes his stomach churn and his heart flip as he gets lost in Bucky’s smile, and the way he talks with his hands. He gets lost in watching Bucky’s lips as he talks, gets lost in the curling, lopsided smile that makes just one cheek dimple. Lost, lost, lost. And he never wants to be found again.

“God, I love you,” he blurts out in the middle of Bucky trying salted caramel hot chocolate.

Bucky nearly chokes on it, patting his chest, and Steve immediately feels bad. He puts his cup down, and looks at Steve with a wondrous look. “Lord, Steve, Christ –”

“Sorry.” Steve sheepishly scratches the back of his neck while Bucky recovers.

“But…” Bucky’s not sure how to put it. Steve’s been awake, living, and surrounded by so many people while Bucky’s been – been dead, according to Steve.

“But nothin’,” Steve declares, knowing that his time is running out. “I love you, Bucky Barnes. Always have.”

“Well, what the hell are we wastin’ time for?”

And wasn’t that an excellent question? Steve surges forward, his heart thumping uncontrollably as Bucky meets him halfway.

Kissing Bucky is –

God, kissing Bucky is everything he remembers and dreams of, his tongue moving on its own in perfect harmony with Bucky’s. He barely suppresses a moan, his cock instantly taking interest, always eager for anything to do with Bucky. There’s a chuckle against Steve’s lips, because evidently, Bucky can feel it too.

“Some things don’t change,” Bucky murmurs, but his half-lidded eyes are looking at Steve with a familiar hunger.

“Uh-huh,” Steve agrees dumbly, still staring at Bucky like he holds the answer to all of Steve’s worries.

“C’mere, ya punk.”

Steve goes so, so easily. Hell, he would do anything Bucky asked of him, give anything that Bucky wants to take and take anything Bucky wants to give.

“Bucky…” Steve whispers.

“Steve,” he growls back.

Some things are simply muscle memory, it seems, because his hands run up Bucky’s back, fingers digging into warm skin he knows so well, tracing the same lines of muscle that he always has. He can nearly picture the light freckles on Bucky’s back, mapping the constellation of them across his shoulder blades from memory.

“I’ve missed you so –”

Bucky’s mouth interrupts him again, hungrier this time, his hands tugging at Steve’s shirt and Steve’s body wakes up in ways it hasn’t since he came out of the ice.

☆☆☆

“Mmrh,” Bucky groans from underneath him, hands grasping the sides of Steve’s face, who’s straddling his waist.

It’s honestly quite impressive how fast Steve’s cock can fill, and yet totally expected because Bucky is the only one he’s ever reacted to this way. His body is hardwired to respond to Bucky at any time, in any capacity.

“Bucky,” Steve gasps when he’s given a moment to breathe.

“Darling,” Bucky responds in kind, eyes half-lidded when they look up.

“Please,” Steve begs. “Please – like we used to –”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Steve insists, emphatically. “Bucky, please.”

Bucky’s eyes roam over Steve’s body, the body that had surprised him in Azzano, the one he hadn’t really been able to explore and it kills Steve to see the slight hesitation.

Steve knew the moment he stepped out of Stark’s machine that he had changed, drastically. But just on the outside. Sure, his body had given him new life and as much as he hated his rattling lungs, there were things that he had missed. Like curling up in Bucky’s arms, like being treated as though he were something precious, but not weak. He doesn’t want that to change – doesn’t want Bucky to look at him differently.

“Doesn’t have to change anything,” Steve insists, his cheeks warm and going pink.

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, taking Steve’s mouth again, flipping them over, and it’s everything that Steve wants. He lets his shoulders relax for the first time in decades, lets Bucky take care of him in a way that he doesn't let anyone else do. Bucky’s kisses taste like caramel and chocolate, a dizzying, beautiful sweetness that Steve chases.

Steve introduces Bucky to lube and super serum stamina.

“I… did not know I could do that,” Bucky pants, partly in awe.

“We can do that,” Steve reminds him, rolling his hips upward, his spent cock not quite all the way soft.

“Oh.”

☆☆☆

“Buck?”

“Mm?” He’s still laid out, all relaxed under Steve, his fingers swirling circular patterns in Steve’s shoulder.

“Get dressed, I wanna do something.”

Bucky huffs, but the grin on his face indicates he doesn’t really mind. “Bossy.”

When they’re both at least in pants, Steve tugs him to the window. The Sun is at its peak, shining brightly, warming them through the wall-to-ceiling glass.

“Steve, what –”

Steve turns to Bucky and hastily drops to one knee with the widest smile he’s ever summoned. “Sh. I’ve waited my whole life to be able to do this. James Bucky Barnes, will you marry me?”

Bucky’s mouth hangs open as he looks down at Steve.

“… It’s legal now,” Steve adds lamely, when Bucky still doesn’t say anything.

Bucky just narrows his eyes, because really, that’s the least of his concerns right now. How could Steve not get it? He shakes his head. “Steve, I… I’m…” Bucky swallows, thick with emotion. “You know it ain’t gonna be real.”

“Yes, it will,” Steve protests adamantly. “It’ll be real to me, and it’ll be real to you, won’t it? And that’s all that matters.”

Bucky rubs his forehead, the way he does when he’s exasperated by Steve’s outlandish ideas. “Stevie, babydoll, c’mon. Think for a second. Ya deserve more than this — ya wanna do the whole thing. The wedding, the party, the rings and vows and all o’ that, remember? Used to talk about it all the time. I can’t give ya any of that. ‘Specially not the happy ending part.”

Bucky looks heartbroken, and Steve won’t have it.

“Yes we can!” Steve jumps up, suddenly struck with lightning ideas.

“Steve.” Man, Steve had forgotten just how scathing Bucky’s disappointed voice could be.

“We don’t have time to argue, just do this for me,” Steve insists, kissing him deeply. “I can make it happen. I swear. Please, please?”

“Oh fuckin’ hell –”

And that’s how the rest of the team meets Bucky. It’s not exactly how Steve had pictured it. Well, Steve hadn’t really pictured it, because it’d been impossible, but he’d dreamt of these things – snippets of his life here and now, if Bucky were still here.

The first stop is Tony’s workshop, where Tony almost drops his project right on his foot and Natasha rubs her temple tiredly.

“Holy shit!” Tony exclaims, his eyes comically wide.

Steve, used to it, follows up with “... So, this is Tony Stark.”

“And that,” Tony says with a dramatic point at Bucky. “Is your dead best friend.”

“It’s actually Bucky. Bucky Barnes,” Bucky responds like the little shit he is. Steve’s already so proud of him.

“I goddamn know who you are.”

“Well, it didn’t seem like it.”

Steve watches them, before Tony just guffaws, and waves them both closer.

Nat eyes Bucky up and down – either as a spy or an interested party, Steve can’t be sure – but when he turns to Bucky, there’s a patented heartbreaker grin on his face. Some things don’t change, and it settles Steve more than anything, even if it would make most jealous. Steve’s heart swells when he sees his first family and his new found family mesh together, and as he explains his plan, he’s aware of just how absurd it sounds.

What makes him eternally grateful is that they don’t question it. Nat nods once, like she’s accepting a mission and, well, Steve supposes it kind of is. She strides out of the lab with a wave of her fingers and a promise to have everything ready within the next few hours. Steve has no idea how she’s going to put together a wedding in that amount of time, but he’s learned long ago not to question her.

Steve’s got a pretty high favour to ask from Tony now. Tony places a hand over his heart. “I’m offended you’d even ask that. Of course I can, have you met? Piece o’ cake. Who’s first?”

“Me,” Steve puts forth. He’d normally give Bucky the first chance at anything, but this is a special occasion. “I’ve known since I was a teen.”

Bucky, for his part, looks shyly around the lab, and immediately becomes enamoured by Dum-E, despite the robot’s missing arm. Steve watches him at the other end of the lab, listening to Bucky’s soft laughs as the robot tries to hand him a pen and promptly drops it at Bucky’s feet without its main limb.

“Dear ol’ dad didn’t mention that you two were so disgustingly in love,” Tony mutters as he goes over the design for his ring. It’s a simple design, a smooth silver band with an engraving on the inside – that’s the part that really matters to him. ‘Til the end of the line.

“Bucky is The One,” Steve explains with a shrug, because it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

☆☆☆

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous – he shouldn’t be. Maybe it’s the fact that Natasha has really pulled off something impossible. He’s sure she called in every favour she had stored up and wrangled Pepper into this somehow, because the outside deck of Tony’s tower looks incredible. Even better than he’d imagined. Granted, back in the day, a lot of this might not have been realistic and he sure as hell hadn’t thought about any weddings since he lost Bucky.

He lets the slight breeze ruffle his hair as he looks around the transformed terrace.

“You ready?” Nat asks, sidling up next to him with a glass of champagne in her hand.

“I’ve been ready since I was fifteen,” Steve admits, grimacing at how that sounds.

“It’s sweet,” Nat reassures him. “He’s going to take your breath away.”

Steve is irrationally jealous that she’s already seen Bucky in his wedding day best – a suit commissioned and tailored, at Tony’s insistence. He bites his tongue to stop himself from saying something awfully cheesy.

Like: “He always takes my breath away.”

Jesus, he’s a mess.

She’s still right though. When they’re both revealed, he really does feel all the air leave his lungs as his eyes water at the sight. He’s even worse when they exchange vows, an absolute fucking disaster. Bucky’s smile is so devastating that by the time ‘til death do us part Steve is a goner.

He takes a deep breath to pull himself together, to say his vows — the words from his letters he couldn’t send and the things he never thought he’d get the chance to say.

He gets to put the silver band on Bucky, his promise now pressed to Bucky’s skin, wrapped around Bucky’s finger.

Bucky’s ring for him was so similar, it makes Steve smile. They’d always been on the same page, after all. He gets to wear it with pride, knowing that Bucky had this made for him.

He gets to kiss his husband.

He gets everything he’s ever dreamed of.

☆☆☆

“Save me a dance, would ya?” Bucky says.

This is usually where Steve would go “nah, cmon, Buck, you know I got two left feet” but not today.

Today, he smiles and says, “of course.”

It’s perfect, until it isn’t. It’s perfect in that neither of them stop smiling, in the way they get to feed each other some ridiculous buttercream cake and the way Bucky steals the dance floor, eyes glued to Steve’s the whole time, beckoning him.

Except the sun is fading in the distance, and Steve knows that his time is almost up.

He steps into Bucky’s arms, and holds him as close as he can.

Suddenly I'm falling a thousand stories high It's amazing and it's crazy and I'm strangely satisfied You grab my hand and the color in my world comes alive But I never planned to fall in love We watched the hours and the sunlight run away Talking of dreams, childhood memories, and family holidays You were a stranger, then a lover, now something more I cannot say Maybe this time it could be love Cause you feel like home When I look into your eyes Your kisses taste like sunshine You turn me on so bright Oh, you feel like home

He’s pressed to Bucky, resting his cheek against Bucky’s temple and breathing in deeply. It still smells like Bucky, underneath Steve’s soap, their scents mingling together.

You feel like home On a starlit summer night You're the drumbeat of my heart Your lovin' red as wine Oh you feel like home Suddenly I'm falling a thousand stories high It's too late to turn back now so I look deep into your eyes You pull me close, kiss me softly under the city lights Somewhere in there I fell in love You feel like home (Oh oh oh home)

“Thank you, Buck,” he whispers. “This is everything I ever hoped for.”

“Me too, Stevie. Me too.”

When I look into your eyes Your kisses taste like sunshine You turn me on so bright Oh you feel like home I didn't see this comin', but this time I'm not runnin' Cause you feel like home When I look into your eyes Your kisses taste like sunshine You turn me on so bright Oh you feel like home You feel like home (Home) On a starlit summer night (Summer night)

They had slowly rocked their way out onto the balcony, away from the crowd and noise. Out here, it was just the warm breeze and the sound of Bucky’s heartbeat. Steve commits it to memory.

You're the drumbeat of my heart Your lovin' red as wine Oh you feel like home You feel like home (Feel like home) When I look into your eyes Your kisses taste like sunshine You turn me on so bright Oh you feel like home You feel like home (Feel like home) On a starlit summer night You're the drumbeat of my heart Your lovin' red as wine Oh you feel like home You're the drumbeat of my heart Your lovin' red as wine Oh you feel like home You're the drumbeat of my heart Your lovin' red as wine Oh you feel like home…

“It’s time, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs as the song fades away, in the softest voice Steve’s ever heard. He knows it’s for his own benefit, because he’s a pindrop away from breaking.

“I can’t do this without you,” Steve tells him yet again. Doesn’t Bucky understand? That Steve needs him?

“You can,” Bucky assures him. “You have.”

Steve wants to protest, wants to tell Bucky the truth that he really, really hasn’t. That he’s been faking it this whole time, putting one foot in front of the other like a good soldier. But the war’s over, and he doesn’t want to be a soldier anymore.

“This is g’bye, sweetheart.” Bucky’s eyes are watering but he still forces a smile for Steve even as he starts to fade with the setting sun. “I’m glad I got to say it this time, and to tell you that I love you. Always have.”

“And I will never stop loving you,” Steve vows. “You’re it for me, Buck. I –”

Steve gets choked up, because Bucky’s practically translucent now, it’ll be mere seconds before he loses Bucky. Again.

“You’re it for me, too, darlin’. Now, don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back.” Bucky smiles, more radiant than the halo of fading sunlight around them. He manages to land one last kiss on Steve’s lips, and Steve can barely feel it but it’s there. Their last kiss.

“How can I?” Steve manages, through a harsh sob, his voice cracking, his fingers closing around nothing but air.

Just like that, Bucky’s gone, and Steve’s faced with nothing but the pink and orange sky.

“You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Steve whispers to no one in particular, wiping his eyes with the heel of his palm as he drops like a deadweight. He’s consumed with the ache of missing Bucky already. Again.

He swears he can still feel the light pressure of Bucky’s kiss, and he covers a hand over his mouth, like he can keep it there for as long as he lives.

He looks down at his hand, at the silver band that gleams in the morning light — the piece of Bucky that will stay with him ‘til the end of the line.