whitewoofs

[whitewoofs]

Delicate Feelings In Hall H

At a comic con, Hollywood Heartthrob Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, the moderator of his panel, share a flirtatious and tense interview that hints at a deeper attraction between them. After the panel, Steve invites Bucky to his hotel room, and they give in to their desire, sharing a passionate night together. The next day, they return to the convention, but the chemistry between them is now laced with a deeper affection. As the day progresses, their anticipation builds, culminating in another intimate night together. Through their shared passion, they find a connection that goes beyond their public personas, seeing each other's vulnerabilities and strengths. AO3 Link

Inspired by @riricitaa Please share and leave a little note or review.

The convention hall buzzed with the energy of a thousand fandoms, an array of colors and cosplay that made Bucky Barnes feel both at home and slightly overwhelmed. As he took his seat on the well-worn velvet chair, the stage lights washed over him in a warm embrace. He couldn’t help but let his gaze drift over the sea of eager faces, all eagerly awaiting his words of wisdom, or at least a decent joke. Then, his eyes met Steve Rogers, the moderator of this comic con panel, and Bucky’s heart skipped a beat.

Steve, with his short dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, sat poised behind the podium, his fingers drumming a rhythm that was both anxious and thrilling. The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose only served to amplify his charm, giving him an intellectual edge that Bucky found utterly irresistible. As Steve cleared his throat, Bucky’s attention snapped back to the present, his cheeks flushing a little as he realized he’d been caught staring. Steve’s smile grew, a knowing glint in his eyes, and Bucky felt a shiver run down his spine.

The interview began with the usual banter, the two men swapping quips and stories with the ease of old friends, despite their differing career paths. Yet, beneath the laughter and light-hearted banter, there was an undeniable tension, a palpable current that thrummed between them. Every question Steve asked, every answer Bucky gave, was laced with a subtle flirtation that had the audience leaning in, unsure if they were imagining the connection or if it was as real as the air they breathed.

As the minutes ticked by, the questions grew more intimate, and Steve’s gaze grew more intense. His eyes lingered on Bucky’s metal prosthetic, a reminder of a past filled with both pain and perseverance. Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a drumroll, building to a crescendo that left him craving something more than the mere touch of Steve’s gaze. And when Steve finally leaned in, his voice low and seductive, the air between them crackled with the promise of something that went far beyond the scripted conversation.

“So, Bucky,” Steve began, his voice a tantalizing whisper that sent waves of heat through Bucky’s body, “what do you do to unwind after a long day at the con?” The question was innocent enough, but the way Steve’s eyes danced with mischief told a different story. Bucky felt his breath hitch, his eyes locked onto Steve’s, and for a moment, the world around them faded away. The crowd’s murmurs were nothing more than a distant hum, the spotlights dimming to a soft glow that bathed them in a private cocoon of desire.

Steve’s question hung in the air, a silent invitation that Bucky found impossible to resist. His own voice was a little shaky as he replied, trying to play it cool despite the fire that had ignited in his veins. “Well, Steve,” he drawled, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, “I usually prefer the company of someone who knows how to handle a weapon of mass seduction.” The crowd erupted in laughter, but the look in Steve’s eyes told Bucky that the message had been received loud and clear.

The interview continued, the conversation weaving through the lines of their attraction like a delicate dance. Each touch of Steve’s hand on Bucky’s arm, each brush of their legs under the table, was a silent promise of what was to come. And as the final question was asked, and the applause of the audience filled the hall, Bucky knew that the real show was just beginning.

The chemistry between them was a living, breathing entity, a force that could not be contained by the confines of the stage. When the lights finally dimmed, and the crowd began to disperse, Steve leaned in close, his breath hot against Bucky’s ear. “Would you like to join me in my room?” he murmured, the words a soft caress that sent shivers down Bucky’s spine. Bucky’s eyes searched Steve’s, finding the same hunger reflected there that he felt in his own heart.

With a nod that spoke volumes, Bucky stood up, his metal limb a silent testament to the thrill that now coursed through him. The crowd parted like a sea, their eyes glued to the magnetic pull between the two men as they exited the stage, their hearts racing in anticipation of the intimate encounter that was about to unfold.

Once the door to Steve’s hotel suite clicked shut behind them, the dam of tension broke. Steve’s hands were on Bucky before the echo of their laughter had even faded, tugging at his shirt with an urgency that was mirrored in Bucky’s own trembling fingers. Their kiss was a declaration of war, a fiery battle of tongues and teeth that left them both gasping for breath. Steve’s scent, a heady mix of cologne and pure masculine desire, filled Bucky’s nostrils, making him dizzy with need.

The blue suit Steve wore was quickly discarded, revealing a body honed by years of discipline and a love for the gym. His chest was a landscape of muscles that Bucky couldn’t help but explore with his fingertips, tracing the lines of his abs and the trail of hair that led down to his waistband. Steve’s skin was hot to the touch, a stark contrast to the cool glasses that now rested on the side table, forgotten. Bucky’s own heart thudded in his chest like a drum, the beat echoing in his ears as Steve’s hands roamed over his body, exploring every inch of his bare skin.

Their clothes fell away like confetti in the wake of their passion, revealing the full extent of their desire. Steve’s eyes darkened as he took in the sight of Bucky’s metal arm, the starkness of it against his tanned flesh. He kissed the cold metal, a gesture that sent a shiver down Bucky’s spine, before his mouth traveled lower, leaving a scorching path of kisses and nips that had Bucky’s knees threatening to buckle. The sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of sensations that had him panting for more.

As Steve’s hands slid into Bucky’s pants, the actor’s breath hitched. The gentle squeeze of his fingers around Bucky’s hard length was heavenly, sending waves of pleasure rippling through his body. Steve’s confidence was palpable, a stark contrast to the vulnerability that Bucky felt in that moment. Yet, in the embrace of this man he barely knew but already craved, he felt more alive than ever before.

Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, the rhythm of their kisses syncing with the strokes of Steve’s hand. Bucky’s metal hand found its way to Steve’s neck, the coolness of it a stark contrast to the heat of their entwined forms. Steve’s eyes widened, and a guttural moan tore from his throat as Bucky’s grip tightened ever so slightly, a silent plea for more. And more was what he got, as Steve’s thumb circled the sensitive head of his cock, teasing and taunting until Bucky was sure he’d come apart at the seams.

The room was a whirlwind of passion, the only sounds the harsh pants of their breathing and the rustle of fabric as they stumbled towards the bed. Steve’s mouth never left Bucky’s, their tongues dancing together as they tumbled onto the soft mattress. The weight of Steve’s body on top of him was a delicious pressure, grounding him in the reality of the moment. Bucky’s hand slipped between Steve’s legs, finding him already hard and ready, a silent question that Steve answered with a throaty growl.

Their kisses grew more frantic as Bucky’s hand worked its magic, Steve’s hips bucking against his palm. The heat from their bodies melded together, creating a furnace that threatened to consume them both. Bucky’s eyes never left Steve’s, the connection between them stronger than any steel alloy. It was as if they were speaking a language that only the two of them could understand, a silent conversation of need and want.

As Steve’s breath grew ragged, Bucky knew he was close. He quickened his pace, his own desire building to a crescendo. The heady scent of arousal filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of sweat and cologne. The heat of Steve’s body was a brand against his, setting his skin alight with a hunger that could only be sated by the feel of Steve deep inside him.

With a final, desperate whine, Steve pulled away, his eyes glazed with lust. He reached for the nightstand, his hand shaking as he pulled out a condom and lube. The sound of the foil tearing was like a gunshot in the quiet room, a stark reminder of the reality of their situation. Bucky’s eyes never left Steve’s as he rolled the condom on, his hands steady despite the tremor in his core.

Steve’s gaze was intense, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s as he slicked his fingers and pressed one gently against his entrance. Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed, his breath hitching as Steve’s digit breached him, the coolness of the lube giving way to the warmth of his body. The sensation was exquisite, a sweet agony that had him writhing beneath Steve’s touch. Each slow, deliberate push was a promise of the pleasure to come, and Bucky arched his back, silently begging for more.

The burn grew, a delicious ache that grew with each passing second. Steve’s voice was a gentle coax, a sweet melody that guided Bucky through the first tremors of ecstasy. “Look at me, Bucky,” he murmured, his own breathing shallow and erratic. “Look at me when I make you come.”

Bucky’s eyes snapped open, meeting Steve’s with a fierce need that left no room for doubt. He watched as Steve’s hand moved away, replaced by the blunt head of his cock. The pressure was a sweet torture, a promise that had Bucky’s hips rising to meet him. And then, with a single, powerful thrust, Steve filled him completely, the sensation stealing the breath from his lungs.

Their bodies moved together in a symphony of passion, Steve’s strong hips setting a rhythm that Bucky eagerly matched. Each stroke was a declaration of desire, a claiming that left no part of Bucky untouched. The metal of his prosthetic arm glinted in the dim light, a stark contrast to the softness of the sheets and the warmth of Steve’s skin. Yet, it was a part of him, a testament to his resilience and strength, and Steve’s eyes never left it, as if he too was in awe of the beauty it brought to their union.

Their kisses grew deeper, their tongues tangling in a dance as old as time. Bucky’s nails dug into Steve’s back, leaving half-moons of pleasure-pain that made Steve’s eyes roll back in his head. Bucky’s breath grew shorter, his moans growing louder, each thrust pushing him closer to the edge of release. And as Steve’s hand found his cock again, stroking in time with their rhythm, Bucky knew that he was lost.

The orgasm hit him like a freight train, a rush of pleasure so intense it was almost painful. His body convulsed, his back bowing off the bed as Steve’s name was torn from his lips in a ragged cry. Steve’s own climax followed closely, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into Bucky, their eyes locked in a silent promise of more to come.

For a moment, they lay there, panting and spent, their hearts beating a tattoo against each other’s chests. Then, with a soft laugh, Steve leaned down, capturing Bucky’s mouth in a kiss that was tender and sweet, a stark contrast to the passion that had just claimed them. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Bucky’s eyes searched Steve’s, finding a warmth there that went beyond the physical. He knew that this was more than a fleeting encounter, that the bond they’d forged in that hotel room was something special. With a contented sigh, he wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, holding him close as the aftershocks of pleasure continued to ripple through him.

Their bodies remained entwined as they talked into the night, sharing stories and secrets that only lovers knew. The metal of Bucky’s arm was a constant reminder of their shared humanity, of the battles they’d each fought in their own way. It was a symbol of their strength, a silent companion in their passion. Steve traced the cold surface with his fingertips, the contrast to Bucky’s warm flesh a reminder of the fragility of life and the beauty of the moment.

The conversation flowed easily, the intimacy of their shared space making the words come out unfiltered and raw. They talked about their hopes and fears, their dreams and regrets. Bucky spoke of the comrades he’d lost, the weight of his past a burden that Steve could never fully understand but bore with a grace that humbled the journalist. Steve, in turn, spoke of the isolation that came with his celebrity, the loneliness that haunted him in the quiet hours of the night.

Their whispers grew softer as the hours ticked by, the darkness outside the window a silent sentinel to their shared vulnerability. Steve’s hand found Bucky’s, their fingers interlocking in a silent pact of understanding. They talked of love and loss, of the scars that life had etched into their hearts. And in that moment, Bucky knew that he’d found someone who saw beyond the glitz and glamour of their public personas, someone who knew the man behind the metal.

The air grew thick with emotion, their breathing the only sound in the quiet room. Steve leaned in, his lips brushing against Bucky’s, a gentle caress that promised comfort rather than passion. For now, their connection was enough, a balm to soothe the ragged edges of their souls. The urgency of their earlier desire had given way to a tenderness that was just as potent, a bond that grew stronger with each shared whisper.

Bucky’s eyes searched Steve’s, finding a depth there that was as vast as the ocean. He knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful, something that could withstand the storms of life. And as they lay there, basking in the glow of their newfound connection, the promise of future nights filled with both laughter and passion was a sweet ache that neither could ignore.

The next morning, the sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow over their tangled limbs. Steve’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Bucky’s sleepy gaze. They shared a quiet smile, the kind that spoke of a thousand unspoken truths. As they dressed, their movements were careful, respectful of the intimacy that had been shared.

They walked together to the convention floor, their hands brushing but never quite touching. The whispers of the crowd grew louder as they approached, but the two men remained in their own little world, a bubble of understanding that was untouchable.

On stage, they resumed their roles with an ease that belied their newfound connection. Yet, there was something different about the way they looked at each other, a knowing spark that had the audience leaning in, wondering what secrets lay behind their eyes. The tension between them was no longer one of unspoken desire but of a deep, abiding affection.

During a particularly intimate moment, Steve’s hand grazed Bucky’s metal limb, and the actor couldn’t help but shiver at the gentle touch. The coolness of the metal was a stark contrast to the heat that had consumed them the night before, but it was a reminder of their shared vulnerability, a silent testament to the trust they’d placed in each other.

Steve’s eyes searched Bucky’s, filled with a warmth that seemed to penetrate the very core of his being. Bucky knew that this man saw him, all of him—the scars, the metal, and the pain that often lurked just beneath the surface. And in that moment, he felt more exposed than he ever had, not just physically but emotionally.

The day passed in a whirlwind of panels and autographs, but Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that had taken root in his chest. Every time their eyes met across the crowded convention floor, it was as if they were the only two people in the world. The air between them crackled with a tension that was both electrifying and terrifying.

As the day waned, the anticipation grew, a thrumming bass line that vibrated through their every interaction. The knowing smiles, the lingering touches, and the whispers that carried just a little too much meaning had everyone around them speculating. But it was the way Steve’s eyes never left Bucky’s that spoke the loudest, a silent promise that echoed through the halls of the hotel.

The evening brought with it a reprieve from the day’s chaos, a quiet dinner in a dimly lit restaurant that felt like a world away from the flashing lights and screaming fans. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling steak and the heady aroma of fine wine, a backdrop to their conversation that grew more heated with every shared glance. Steve’s hand rested on Bucky’s thigh, his thumb drawing lazy circles that had him squirming in his seat.

Their plates were pushed aside, the food forgotten as Steve leaned in, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down Bucky’s spine. “I can’t wait to get you back to my room,” he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. Bucky’s heart raced, his cock stirring to life at the thought of feeling Steve’s touch once more. He swallowed hard, his voice thick with need. “Neither can I,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

The elevator ride to Steve’s suite was an eternity of anticipation, their eyes locked in a silent promise of the pleasure that awaited them. The moment the doors slid open, Steve’s hand was on Bucky’s lower back, guiding him into the dimly lit room. The soft click of the lock echoed in the silence, a declaration of their intent to leave the outside world behind. The tension between them was a living, breathing entity, a force that could not be contained by the walls that surrounded them.

They made their way to the large, ornate mirror that dominated one wall of the hotel room, the reflection casting a sensual glow over their bodies. Steve’s eyes never left Bucky’s as he stepped behind him, his hands sliding around to cup his ass, pulling their bodies close. Bucky could feel Steve’s hardness pressing against him, a delicious reminder of the passion that was about to be unleashed. With a gentle nudge, Steve positioned him in front of the mirror, the reflection revealing every inch of their entwined forms.

Their eyes met in the mirror, a silent challenge that had Bucky’s heart racing. Steve’s grip tightened, his thumbs tracing circles over Bucky’s cheeks before sliding down to tease his hole. The sensation was exquisite, a sweet agony that had him pushing back against Steve’s hand. The journalist’s gaze was intense, his eyes dark with need as he watched Bucky’s reactions, the play of pleasure across his face. “Look at us,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down Bucky’s spine. “Look how beautiful we are together.”

Bucky’s breath hitched as Steve’s fingers slipped inside him, the coolness of the lube a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from their bodies. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious intrusion that had him whimpering and begging for more. The mirror reflected their passion, their bodies moving in a sensual dance that was as mesmerizing as it was erotic. Steve’s cock pressed against Bucky’s ass, the head nudging insistently, seeking entry. And with a slow, deliberate thrust, he claimed Bucky completely, filling him with a sense of belonging that was as profound as it was primal.

Their eyes remained locked in the mirror, a silent conversation of pleasure and need that grew more intense with each passing moment. Steve’s hips moved with a rhythm that was both gentle and demanding, his cock coming close to hitting Bucky’s prostate. Bucky’s eyes grew wide, his mouth forming silent oh’s of pleasure as he felt the pressure build within him. His own hand found his cock, stroking in time with Steve’s thrusts, the sight of their union in the mirror only serving to amplify his arousal.

“Oh, fuck, Steve, right there,” Bucky groaned, his voice a ragged whisper that seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. The words were a trigger, a plea that had Steve’s eyes darkening with desire. His thrusts grew harder, more insistent, each one pushing Bucky closer to the edge. And as Bucky’s hand moved faster, the slick sound of skin on skin a testament to their passion, Steve knew that he was about to send him spiraling over the precipice.

With a final, precise stroke, Steve’s cock hit Bucky’s prostate, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. Bucky’s body tensed, his eyes rolling back in his head as he cried out, his orgasm ripping through him like a hurricane. His cum spurted in hot, thick ropes across the mirror, painting a picture of ecstasy that reflected in Steve’s own gaze.

Steve’s rhythm faltered for a moment, watching Bucky come undone before him. But the journalist was not one to be outdone. He pulled out, the slick sound of separation making Bucky gasp, and with a few more pumps of his hand, he painted Bucky’s face with his own release. The hot spurts landed on Bucky’s cheeks, his nose, and his open, panting mouth. The actor’s eyes snapped open, the sight of Steve’s passion a visual symphony that had him swallowing hard, his cock still pulsing with aftershocks of pleasure.

They remained frozen in that pose for a heartbeat, their breaths mingling in the space between them, the scent of sex and desire thick in the air. Then, with a gentle touch, Steve reached up and wiped a stray droplet from Bucky’s cheek, his eyes never leaving the mirror. “You’re so beautiful when you come apart for me,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to the raw, exposed nerves that hummed through Bucky’s body.

With a soft laugh, Steve stepped back, his hand lingering on Bucky’s waist as he guided him to the en suite bathroom. The cool tiles beneath their feet were a stark contrast to the fire that still raged between them, and Bucky could feel the tremble in Steve’s touch as he turned on the faucet, the water cascading into the tub with a comforting sound that promised relief from the intensity of their passion.

As the tub filled, Steve’s gentle touch turned to something more possessive, his fingers tracing the lines of Bucky’s face, the contours of his jaw, and the curve of his neck. The warmth of his cum on Bucky’s skin was a reminder of their connection, a declaration of his claim that Bucky found both thrilling and terrifying. Yet, as Steve’s eyes searched his own in the mirror, Bucky knew that there was no fear here, only the sweet agony of desire.

“Get in,” Steve instructed, his voice still gruff with passion. Bucky obeyed, his legs wobbly as he stepped into the warm embrace of the water. Steve followed, his strong arms wrapping around Bucky’s waist, pulling him back against his chest. The water sloshed around them, the bubbles caressing their skin like a thousand tiny kisses.

For a moment, they simply enjoyed the feel of each other, the warmth of the water a soothing balm to their spent bodies. Then, Steve’s hand moved to Bucky’s chin, tilting his head back to look into his eyes. “What do you want this to mean, Bucky?” he asked, his voice softer now, the edges of desire smoothed by a tenderness that took Bucky’s breath away.

Bucky’s heart stuttered, the question echoing through his mind like a whispered secret. He’d never been one for labels, for defining the ever-shifting landscape of his desires. But in that moment, as Steve’s thumb traced the line of his jaw, he knew that he wanted this to mean something more than just a fleeting encounter. “I want it to mean that we’re not just two guys who fucked at a comic con,” he replied, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I want it to mean that we saw each other, really saw each other, and that this connection isn’t going anywhere.”

Steve’s eyes searched his, the depth of his gaze cutting through the steam that curled around them like invisible tendrils. “Me too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His hand slid down Bucky’s chest, his fingers playing with the water droplets that clung to his skin like diamonds. “But we can’t ignore the fact that we come from different worlds, Bucky. This isn’t a movie script where the actor and the journalist ride off into the sunset together.”

Bucky leaned back into Steve’s embrace, the warm water lapping at his chest, the scent of their combined desire lingering in the air. “I know,” he said, his voice steady despite the racing of his heart. “But maybe we can write our own ending.”

Their eyes held in the mirror, a silent understanding passing between them. Steve’s hand continued to play in the water, the droplets tracing patterns on Bucky’s chest that seemed to map out the contours of their hearts. “We could try,” he whispered, his voice hopeful. “But we have to be honest with ourselves, and with each other. Can we handle that?”

Bucky’s chest tightened at the question, the weight of their shared vulnerability pressing down on him. Yet, the warmth of Steve’s body against his back, the comfort of his embrace, was reassurance enough. He nodded, his eyes never leaving the reflection of Steve’s earnest gaze. “I want to,” he murmured, the words a vow that seemed to hang in the misty air.

A week later, Bucky found himself staring at the photo on his phone, a reminder of the night that had changed everything. The image was candid, Steve’s laughter caught mid-breath as Bucky leaned into him, his metal arm draped over Steve’s shoulder. The corny caption he’d agonized over for hours was a simple play on words that hinted at their shared love for comics and the depth of their newfound connection. He hit upload, his heart racing at the thought of Steve’s reaction.

The photo uploaded, the app notifying him with a soft chime. The likes began to roll in, the little red hearts a silent symphony of approval. Yet, it was the one comment that mattered most—Steve’s. Bucky watched his phone, his breath held, as the notification popped up. Steve’s response was swift and sweet, a simple heart-eyes emoji followed by the words “My hero 💙.” The public declaration sent a thrill through him, his chest tightening with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Months passed, and the photos grew more frequent. The paparazzi had caught on to their blossoming romance, snapping shots of their stolen kisses in dark alleyways, their intertwined fingers as they exited restaurants, and their laughter as they stumbled out of movie premieres. Yet, unlike past relationships that had been plagued by the intrusive flash of cameras, Bucky found comfort in the attention. Each snap was a testament to their authentic connection, a declaration to the world that he had found someone who truly saw him—metal arm and all.

One sunny afternoon, as they left a quiet coffee shop, Bucky threw his head back and laughed at one of Steve’s terrible puns, the sound of his mirth pealing through the bustling street. The paparazzi swarmed around them like bees to honey, cameras clicking in a cacophony of intrusion. Yet, Steve’s hand remained firm on the small of his back, a silent shield that whispered, “You’re mine, and I’m not letting go.” The warmth of his touch seeped into Bucky’s very soul, leaving him unfazed by the prying eyes.

As they stepped into the relative sanctuary of Steve’s car, Bucky’s laughter subsided into a gentle smile. He turned to Steve, the sun casting a halo around his head, making his glasses gleam. “You know what, Steve?” Bucky’s voice was soft, the words unrehearsed but no less earnest. “I love you.”

Steve’s hand paused on the gear stick, the car idling in the quiet of the alleyway. His eyes searched Bucky’s, looking for the truth in the blue depths that had captivated him from the moment they met on that comic con stage. The words hung in the air, a declaration that seemed to echo through the confined space, resonating with the intensity of their shared glances and whispers of desire.

For a moment, the world outside the car ceased to exist, the flashing cameras and shouting paparazzi fading to a distant memory. The only sound was the erratic beating of their hearts, a symphony of hope and fear that seemed to crescendo with every breath they took. Then, with a soft smile that spoke of a warmth that had been building within him, Steve leaned over, his hand cupping Bucky’s cheek. “I love you too, Bucky,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Their kiss was a gentle explosion of feeling, a declaration that transcended the confines of their private bubble. Steve’s thumb brushed against Bucky’s metal arm, the coolness of the metal a stark contrast to the heat of their kiss. Yet, in that moment, it was not a symbol of their differences, but rather a testament to their shared strength, a reminder of the battles they had both faced and overcome. The kiss grew deeper, their tongues exploring the familiar terrain of each other’s mouths with a newfound sense of urgency, a silent promise that this was just the beginning.

A/N: Pretty much imagine the way Chris and Sebastian have been looking lately at the Comic Cons/ASP meetings if I didn’t give a clear enough visual.

[whitewoofs]

Anamnesis | Word Count - 11294

In the wake of Steve Rogers' seemingly heart-wrenching decision to leave Bucky Barnes behind and reunite with Peggy Carter in the past, Bucky grapples with the agonizing belief that Steve chose a life without him. Years later, a startling discovery leads Bucky to a secret facility where he finds Steve, his memories wiped, trapped among others whose lives have been usurped by Skrulls. As Bucky strives to rekindle their lost connection, he faces a daunting question: Can he help Steve remember their shared history and love, or will they forever remain friends in a world forever changed? AO3

“Babe!” Bucky called from the bedroom, just as Steve was getting ready to leave. He smiled to himself, sure this was another ploy to get him to come back to bed, but he had to go and speak to Bruce.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised, picking up his keys.

“No, I need your help! I think I pulled a muscle, I can’t move.” Bucky sounded genuinely distraught and Steve rushed back into the bedroom, finding Bucky flat on his back. “It hurts when I try to sit up, but it’s really uncomfortable lying this way, help me roll on my side please,” he begged, his piercing blue eyes staring at Steve pitifully.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I thought you were just trying to get me to come back to bed,” he apologized as he wrapped his arms around Bucky, who promptly pulled him down on top of himself and kissed him deeply, grinding his crotch upward so Steve could feel his hard-on.

“Mmmm, you were right, but isn’t this worth it? You don’t want to leave me here suffering, do you?” he asked huskily, kissing Steve’s neck, his hands running up under his t-shirt, marveling at how perfect it felt every time they touched. It never got old, he never lost the sense of wonder at how happy and whole this made him feel. Desire curled through him like smoke and he rolled them over, so he was on top, looking down into Steve’s glorious pale blue eyes, kissing his cheekbones, his lips, working at getting his t-shirt removed so he could lick the delicious divots above his clavicles. “Stay a while,” he suggested huskily, “And make love to me.”

Steve knew it was useless arguing. His partner was an incorrigible brat, who always got his way. They’d known each other so long that he knew exactly which buttons to push, and after believing for years that Bucky was dead, Steve was always worried about squandering a single moment. The fact that touching Bucky felt like coming home and bursting into flame at the same time didn’t help matters.

“I’m going to be late,” he put up a token protest.

“But you’ll be very satisfied,” Bucky promised, kissing his way down Steve’s torso, his fingers already unbuttoning his jeans.

“Buck,” Steve groaned, but they both knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Steve’s fingers tangled in Bucky’s soft, dark hair, his breathing already fractured and Bucky hadn’t even taken off his pants yet. He’d always expected that eventually they’d grow used to this, to making love whenever they felt like it, not needing to sneak around like they did in the 40’s and they were in the Howling Commandos. He expected them to be like most couples, settling into comfort as the initial fervent passion raged and spent itself, but every time still felt like the first. Like his dreams were all being granted and he was strapped to the world’s most exciting ride.

He’d once admitted that to Bucky, who’d lifted a sardonic eyebrow and responded, “You are, we can get actual straps if you want.” He loved this man so much. The darkness from the time after he believed Bucky had died when he fell from the train still haunted his dreams frequently. Or, for some variety, he’d go back to the day Bucky was dusted, and the five years he’d spent believing he’d lost Bucky a second time. On these nights he’d be the one to wake Bucky, making love to him slowly, driving him wild with his hands and mouth until Bucky was a trembling mess in his arms, reassuring himself that Bucky was here with him and they had time enough to savor each other.

“Oh my God,” Steve groaned when Bucky licked up his shaft, teasing the frenulum with his tongue, those mischievous eyes sparkling up at him.

Bucky let go of his favorite lollipop for a moment and grinned cockily, “If you really have to go though…” he drawled.

Steve narrowed his eyes at Bucky, “Don’t you dare stop now,” he growled.

“Yes, Sir!” Bucky said happily, diving right back in, using his mouth with the kind of exuberance reserved for doing things you truly enjoyed. Steve was never sure if it felt so incredible because Bucky’s mouth was just that talented, or because he so obviously loved every moment, making Steve feel a thousand feet tall.

“Babe, I’m going to cum,” Steve warned and Bucky’s eyes smoldered up at him, the corners of his mouth tilting up slightly. He’d told Steve a thousand times that he loved his cum, loved the taste and consistency, loved the idea that swallowing it put a piece of Steve inside him, but Steve still warned him every time, as if this would be the day he’d suddenly not want to swallow anymore. He grabbed Steve’s hand with his real one, eyes closing in pleasure for a moment when the first pulse of Steve’s amazing cock ejected his sperm into Bucky’s mouth. Their eyes locked again and remained devotedly fixed on one another until Steve was done. He pulled Bucky up, hugging him to his chest and kissed him fervently.

“I love you so much,” he breathed, his hand lightly stroking Bucky’s penis, smiling when his boyfriend groaned, lifting his hips, pushing his groin toward Steve’s hand.

Steve reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out the vibrating cock sleeve, slipping it over Bucky’s dick, kissing the tip gently while he lubed up his own penis, rubbing some around Bucky’s anus. “I want to look into your eyes,” he told Bucky, their hands entwined as he lowered his mouth to his lover’s, sliding into him slowly, his tongue delving into Bucky’s mouth, ravaging him.

He turned the sleeve on, catching Bucky’s gasp in his mouth, relentlessly thrusting, his heartrate increasing with each propulsion, Bucky’s eyes growing darker with desire, his legs wrapping around Steve’s waist, trying to pull him even deeper. He wanted to meld them into one being, to know they’d never be separated again. He wanted to be doing this every moment of every day, being as close to Steve as it was humanly possible, inconceivable pleasure firing through all his synapses, building to the inevitable explosion, the moment when they both break into bits and absorb a little more of one another.

“Fuck!” Bucky screamed, ejaculating forcefully when he felt Steve release inside of him. “I love you; I love you so much, holy shit how does it keep getting better?” he murmured.

Steve turned off the sleeve, removing it before it became uncomfortable and lay down next to Bucky, pulling his head on to his chest, his fingertips grazing Bucky’s shoulder, causing goosebumps to pop up.

“Tell me you’re going to be fine,” Bucky requested softly and Steve tilted his head back, looking deep into his eyes.

“I’m going to be fine. I’ll be back before you have time to miss me.”

Bucky sighed; he knew there was no way to convince Steve not to do this. They’d discussed returning the infinity stones the night before, agreeing together that it was the safest course of action, to avoid anomalies on the timeline. He also knew Steve was the obvious choice. None of that made him feel less anxious.

“Let’s just stay here, you can talk to the other Avengers tomorrow,” Bucky suggested.

Steve kissed the top of his head, “It’s going to be fine; you’ll see. I love you, I’ll always come back to you.”

~~~

Bucky stared at the time portal, his eyes like burning coals, “Where the hell is he?” he asked, glaring at Bruce who looked bewildered. Steve should have been back by now, unless something went wrong, but he was sure they would have had some sign on this side if something happened.

Sam put his arm on Bucky’s shoulder, “We’ll wait, he’ll be back.” They sat in the New Avengers facility for hours, Bucky staring at the portal with dry, burning eyes, remembering the sweat running down Steve’s neck while he was thrusting into him earlier, the love in his gaze, the strength of his grip. Why wasn’t he coming back?

“Let’s go for a walk,” Sam suggested after another hour had passed. Bucky refused at first, but eventually he had to move, before he tore the place apart.

They walked in silence, neither of them had any words that would lessen their fear, or provide an explanation for why Steve wasn’t back. Sam spotted the shield first, Bucky was like a sleepwalker, unaware of his surroundings, all of his thoughts turned inwards. He nudged Bucky, pointing to the old man on the bench. It had to be a toy, some kind of replica, but they went over anyway, incapable of ignoring what seemed like an omen on today of all days. The moment he looked into the man’s eyes, Bucky knew. He didn’t care, it didn’t matter that Steve was old, he’d take any time he had left with him, no matter what he looked like.

“My love,” Bucky said, falling to his knees, “What happened? How are you here, why didn’t you come back through the portal?” he was fighting tears and losing the battle. “It doesn’t matter, you’re here. I thought I’d never see you again.” He tried to hug Steve, who gently, but firmly, pushed him away.

Steve glanced at Sam and rose from the bench, “Sam, I need to talk to you, please wait here,” he requested, walking down towards the lake.

Bucky followed, feeling like an electric current was running over his skin, his mind buzzing with white noise. It was Steve’s eyes, but the emotion was gone. The love that had been there that morning, had melted away. Steve stopped and turned to Bucky, his grey hair and lined face was unimportant, all Bucky saw was the pity in his gaze.

“I saw Peggy when I went back,” Steve said and Bucky felt nauseous. They’d spoken about her before, with Steve always insisting he’d only ever loved Bucky, that she was a wonderful woman, who’d been sweet to him when he felt like a nobody, but he only had one true love and he was with him. “I decided to stay with her. You were always just a placeholder for her Buck.” Steve kept talking, but Bucky couldn’t hear the words, he felt like he’d imploded and was falling apart in slow motion, finally slumping to the ground. Steve touched his shoulder for a moment, then turned away and walked over to Sam.

~~~

No matter how many times he wished he’d died that day, Bucky was still alive, had lived with the constant ache of loneliness for years. The feeling that something was missing never quite left him. He wanted to go back to the day when he fell from the train and launch himself headfirst into the canyon, leaving nothing for Hydra to find and resuscitate.

He and Steve had made love that morning too, quietly and secretively squashed into Bucky’s narrow bunk, careful not to let anyone hear them. Worried about what the world would do if they found out Captain America was gay. Making promises about a future they weren’t sure they could have, but longed for wholeheartedly. Steve used to have nightmares about that day, and the dusting, saying he couldn’t survive losing Bucky again, terrified that something would rip them apart. None of it made sense, it hurt without end. Bucky understood the pain of being the one left behind now, but he’d never left Steve willingly. Steve chose to leave him.

Sam had tried over the years to get him to date again, but Bucky couldn’t stand the thought of being with anyone else. He couldn’t even get himself to have meaningless sex when it was freely offered. He’d tried once or twice, but couldn’t get as far as letting his lips touch theirs, never mind taking off his clothes. He attempted to drink the pain away, but gave up eventually; no matter how much he drank, his enhanced metabolism meant he couldn’t get drunk. Nothing helped, nothing eased his aching soul.

Smiling felt anathema to him, like something that couldn’t ever have belonged on his face. He never went looking for Steve, it would have been pointless and he had no desire to look into eyes that always used to shine with love for him, and suddenly see very different emotions there. He had his answer, at least he didn’t have to spend his life waiting and hoping, he suspected that would have been worse. And life carried on, as it inevitably does, whether he was shattered or not.

Sam knew that Bucky lost so much more than his life partner the day Steve left. He lost faith in himself, as well as the ability to believe that anyone truly cared about him. He accepted nothing on face value anymore and kept a wall between himself and everyone else. He still saved people, but he’d moved out of the house he and Steve had bought together, and into a tiny, dark, depressing studio apartment, furnished with the bare necessities. Sam kept showing up unannounced, knowing if he called ahead Bucky would make sure he wasn’t home. He didn’t take it personally; he was the one who had to try and get Bucky back to the tower when geriatric Steve left.

Bucky kept repeating, “It was always her. He never loved me.”

He disappeared for a while, telling nobody that he was leaving and when he eventually returned, he looked like the same person, but the sarcastic, funny, warm Bucky was gone, replaced by someone somber, who never smiled and barely cared about his appearance. He worked out like a madman and fought like a machine. It took a long time for some semblance of warmth to return to his eyes.

Sam was hammering at Bucky’s door, a six-pack of beer in his free hand, when he got the call about the warehouse full of pods. He tried not to take it personally when Bucky opened up and looked relieved to hear they had to go. They stared around the huge space in horror, the number of people replaced by Skrulls were staggering.

“Holy shit,” Bucky muttered, “All these people have been drained of their memories, their lives stolen from them.” He felt awful for thinking it may not have been so bad if it happened to him. Steve may never have truly cared about him, but Bucky knew his own feelings had been as real as anything could ever be and he could never bring himself to regret the time they’d had together.

Even if it did end up smashing him to smithereens.

SHIELD agents were scurrying around, opening pods and helping the captives out. Most of them had been in stasis so long their muscles had atrophied and they had to be taken out in wheelchairs. Many woke up screaming, in the grip of panic. None of them knew who they were, where they were, or how long they’d been there. Bucky and Sam helped where they could, grateful when Thor, Bruce and Clint showed up.

“Oh, holy shit!” someone called loudly.

Sam rushed over, staring into the pod in disbelief, before screaming, “Buck! Bucky, get the hell over here.”

Bucky stood frozen, staring down into the clear blue eyes of Steve Rogers. His Steve Rogers, blond-haired, face unlined, young and gorgeous, and the implication hit him like a freight train. Steve didn’t leave him. The person who came back and blew up his existence had locked the love of his life in this pod and stolen all of his memories, ruining two lives in one full swoop, as though it meant nothing. Bucky knew there was no way Steve remembered anything, but he felt the flickering flame of hope in his chest, despite believing for years that it had been extinguished the day Steve walked out of his life.

Not Steve. A Skrull. Oh God, when did the Skrull steal his life? Had Bucky made love to the impostor? He shook that thought off, none of it mattered now, but Steve’s eyes were truly the window to his soul and Bucky felt sure that he’d never been intimate with anyone other than his Steve Rogers.

“Steve?” he asked softly, praying for a glimmer of recognition, but the beautiful face remained blank, his eyes full of confusion.

“Cap?” Sam tried, but there was nothing there. They helped him out and Bucky immediately put his arm around Steve’s back, helping him to walk.

“Do I know you?” Steve asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Nearly all your life,” Bucky said with a smile, making a decision right at that moment. He knew now that his heart had been broken by a Skrull, but for the fractures in his soul to truly close, he had to know the truth. If given the opportunity to start all over, would Steve choose him?

~~~

Sam stared at Bucky, “What the hell do you mean we can’t tell him you guys were together? Please tell me you’re not so messed up that even after finding out it was never Steve who walked out on you, you’re still going to be a miserable shadow of yourself?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, “No Sam, please don’t hold back, tell me what you really think of me.”

Sam glared at him, but his heart lifted at the sardonic tone.

“I don’t want to force him into a mold. I’ll tell him we were childhood friends and that he’s a superhero, but I need to know man…”

Sam sighed, “I think you’re crazy, but I guess I get it. I’ll tell the others; you stay here and wait for him to wake up.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t planning on leaving,” Bucky said dryly. “Oh, and I hope there are two rooms free at the tower?”

Sam grinned, “If there aren’t I’ll build some myself.” It felt like two of the people he cared most about in the world had been returned to him today.

~~~

Bucky was sitting next to the hospital bed, his eyes drinking in the sight in front of him, tracing every inch of Steve that was visible. His large hands, so great at holding him close. The blond hair, like silk under his fingers when he pulled Steve closer for a kiss. The sculpted mouth, which expertly knew where and how to kiss his body, making him squirm and beg. The wide shoulders and hard chest, housing a heart big enough to fit the entire world in it. A heart that Steve used to say belonged to him. He hoped he would be deemed worthy again.

Steve looked at the dark-haired man sitting next to his bed. He’d been there earlier, when all the people stood around him, staring at him like he was some kind of newly discovered bug species. This guy had been there, his eyes full of so many emotions, none of which Steve understood, but it was one of the only memories he had. Everything else was blank. Steve wondered why the guy was staring so intently at the sheet covering him, almost like he wished it wasn’t there.

Bucky’s heart lifted for a moment when he glanced up and saw recognition in Steve’s eyes, but it was dashed immediately when Steve said, “You were there earlier. I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

Bucky smiled, “I never got around to telling you, they were in quite a rush to get you some medical attention. I’m Bucky Barnes, we grew up in the same neighborhood, a long time ago.”

Steve tried really hard, he got the feeling that he and this Bucky had been good friends, but nothing came to him. “I’m sorry,” Steve said again.

Bucky smiled, “You have nothing to be sorry about, none of this is your fault. You may not remember yourself, but take my word for it, you’re the best person I know.” Bucky chastised himself for the emotion that had crept into his voice, but Steve didn’t seem to notice anything strange.

“You called me Steve; I gather that’s my name? The other guy called me Cap, is that a nickname, or a rank?”

Bucky grinned, “Kind of a self-proclaimed title that was eventually earned,” he joked, before starting the long tale of Steve Rogers, who went from sickly child to superhero with the help of the super serum. Bucky went up to the formation of the Howling Commandos, before declaring that was probably enough for today. He didn’t want to dredge up train accidents, being captured by Hydra, all the terrible things he’d done as the Winter Soldier, how Steve never gave up on him.

It was part of their story, but perhaps they’d be starting a new one someday, if Steve wanted to, and Bucky didn’t know if they needed to be dragging the pain of a forgotten past with them. Even if Steve never fell in love with him again, he didn’t want to saddle him with past trauma.

Steve felt calmer when Bucky was here with him. Despite having lost his memories, he could sense that they’d shared a really close bond and from Bucky’s reminiscences it seemed they’d been as close as brothers. He’d woken earlier, alone in the room, and the emptiness in his head had him shaking with anxiety. The nurse came in and gave him a sedative, looking at him with awe in her eyes, assuring him his friend would be back soon. He didn’t remember being a superhero, but it seemed everyone knew who he was. Except him.

“Can I get you anything? An iced coffee, or something other than hospital food?”

Steve shook his head, “I know the names of foods, but not what I like, isn’t that crazy? Is there something I particularly enjoyed before?”

Bucky smiled, his knowledge of Steve was encyclopedic, there was nothing he could ask him he didn’t already know.

“Do you want me to tell you, or would you prefer to make new choices?”

Steve was quiet for a moment. “Maybe you’re right. I may never regain my memories and I shouldn’t be defined by who I was before.” Bucky nodded, convinced now that he’d made the right decision.

Bucky left reluctantly when they said it was time for Steve to go to sleep. He didn’t suppose a good buddy would have insisted on sleeping in the room with him; there wasn’t really much wrong with Steve. He was back early the following morning and Steve was surprised to find his heart lifting when he walked in. Bucky looked different today. He’d shaved and cut his hair and he was wearing a pair of tight blue jeans and a form-fitting black tank top, with a black leather jacket, which he’d taken off and slung on to a chair shortly after he arrived. Steve found his eyes drawn to the bulging biceps and taut stomach again and again, chastising himself for acting inappropriately with a friend. Bucky seemed not to notice, so that was good, he assumed he just wanted to get his own body back in tip-top shape and that was the attraction to Bucky’s physique.

Bucky noticed every glance, filing them away to remember later. He’d dressed this way on purpose, he knew he looked good. He was carrying a bag of clothes and toiletries for Steve.

“How did you know my size?” Steve asked when he came out of the bathroom, freshly showered, smelling divine, wearing light blue jeans, a white t-shirt and sneakers. He’d felt a bit strange when he pulled the black boxer briefs out of the bag, knowing Bucky had picked these out for him. They fit really well.

“Staff records,” Bucky lied without compunction.

The nurse came in soon after, to let them know they were releasing Steve, with instructions to keep him hydrated and not to let him have too many rich foods for a few weeks. “His digestive system is still fragile. He should get some exercise, but don’t overdo it. Long walks are fine, but avoid jogging, weights and sprints for now. If it wasn’t for his enhanced system, he’d have been in much worse shape, but all he needs is a little time to recover and to rebuild what’s been lost.” The nurse blushed, “I mean like muscle mass and physical things. We just don’t know enough about the process the Skrulls use for memory extraction and the effect it has on humans…and he’s superhuman, so that changes everything again. I can’t venture a guess as to whether his memories will return or not.”

Bucky bristled, “He’s right here in the room, you can talk to him,” he said sharply. She turned even more scarlet and Bucky felt like an asshole for a second before brushing it aside brusquely. Steve lost his memories, not his mind, and he wasn’t a child. The fact that Steve didn’t interject with “It’s fine,” or some kind of reassurance to set the nurse at ease, let Bucky know loud and clear that he’d been bothered by it too. Steve may not have memories, but he was still sweetness and light right down to his core.

“I’m sorry, of course, I didn’t mean to... We’ve prescribed some pain medication in case of headaches, and muscle relaxants, take them as needed if you feel any discomfort, just not more than four times per day. I wish you all the best Cap…Mr. Rogers.” Bucky had to suppress a smile at that. He’d always teased Steve that he was almost a carbon copy of TV’s Mr. Rogers, the yardstick of niceness.

“Thank you,” Steve said, looking to Bucky, uncertainty foremost in his eyes.

Steve was in a hurry to get out of the hospital, but he had no concept of where he was going. Bucky assured him yesterday that he had a room at the New Avengers Tower, but he had no idea what that looked like, who the others were that lived there, or even how to get there.

“Come on, we’ll head home and get you settled,” Bucky said confidently and Steve immediately felt better.

He wasn’t alone, Bucky would take care of him.

He blinked at the noise and the brightness of the sun outside, his heart lifting a little when Bucky stopped next to a large black motorcycle.

“Your taxi awaits,” he said with a grin, handing Steve a helmet. He got on behind Bucky, uncertain where to put his hands. He gingerly placed them on Bucky’s hips, but he turned to look at Steve and warned, “You’ll want to hold on a lot tighter than that, I don’t go slow.” Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist and had to fight the incredibly strong urge to turn it into an embrace, leaning his head against Bucky’s strong back and hugging him hard. Was he being overly emotional because of the memory loss, or was he gay and harbored a secret crush on his friend? Bucky would surely have told him if they were more to each other than that? He’d chalk it up to Bucky being his pillar of strength, providing a steady foundation for Steve to stand on. He felt like he was totally unmoored when Bucky wasn’t around, scared and uncertain. His so-called attraction was obviously just emotional displacement.

Bruce and Sam were in the kitchen when they arrived, waving and calling out greetings. Bucky had asked them not to overwhelm Steve when he got there, but he was suddenly worried Steve wouldn’t know how beloved he was. “I told them to keep their distance for a bit, until you’re settled in. Sam wanted to throw a welcome home party for you, but I thought it may be a bit much to deal with right away. They’re all…we’re all, so relieved and happy to have you back. If you want the fanfare, I’ll tell him I was wrong?”

Steve shook his head, “No. Thank you, I do need a little time. I’ll definitely want to chat to them later, but I still feel so unsteady, like I’m on a small raft in the middle of the ocean and the waves are turning choppy, threatening to tip me over.”

Bucky wanted to take his hand, instead he gripped his shoulder firmly, “I’ll anchor you, the boat doesn’t need to be wobbling.” He led Steve to ‘his room’.

Bucky had filled the cupboard with clothes, having an amazing time shopping for Steve, buying the softest cashmere sweaters, and things as close as possible to the things he always loved to see Steve wear. He also couldn’t resist picking up Steve’s favorite cologne. What used to be his favorite cologne. Steve’s smell was such a huge part of Bucky’s memories, the olfactory trigger had been impossible to resist.

Steve looked around, but the room didn’t trigger anything. The clothes all looked brand-new and he wondered whether they’d thrown his stuff out. It would make sense, there was no point in hanging on to things that wouldn’t be used again. He assumed Bucky had chosen these too; he had good taste. There was a picture on the dressing table of him, Bucky and some other people in army uniforms. It was obviously old, but the two of them still looked about the same.

“Why haven’t you aged? Did they use the super soldier serum on you too?”

Bucky glanced away; he didn’t want to talk about Hydra. “A version of it, and I was cryo-frozen quite a few times. The serum doesn’t keep us from aging though. You were also encased in ice for a long time.”

Steve sat down on the bed, “Will you tell me about it?” he asked, looking up at Bucky, looking wide-eyed and lost for a moment.

Bucky wanted to pull him close and assure him he would do anything for him, but instead he nodded and sat down, “Yeah, of course.”

He skipped over his own supposed death, continuing from Steve crashing into the ice and remaining frozen in the Arctic for nearly seventy years. Steve wasn’t going to let it go that easily, he immediately picked up on the evasion.

“Who froze you?” Bucky didn’t want to open that can of worms, but how to avoid it without lying?

“A group of German scientists. You found me not too long after they unearthed you from the ice and helped me when I had no memories, it’s odd how life sometimes bring us full circle. Obviously, I’m not glad this happened to you, but I’m glad I’m here to return the favor.”

Steve looked at him seriously, “Me too,” he admitted.

Steve had a million other questions, but Bucky quickly interjected, “I’m starving and I’m sure you could do with a decent cup of coffee. How about I make us something and I’ll introduce you to Bruce and Sam. You…the Skrull, passed your shield to Sam when he came back from your mission as an old man. We’ll have to sort that out somehow, but it’s not important right now.”

Steve held up a hand, “How do you know I was the Skrull then?” he asked in confusion. Bucky cleared his throat, digging a hole and tossing his memories of that day into it, trying to bury them deep.

“You were wearing the same suit that you wore on your mission when we found you in the warehouse, so they must have caught and switched with you while you were returning the stones. It definitely wasn’t you that came back old, or you’d still be old.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully, “That makes sense. I think Sam should keep the shield and continue being Captain America. I don’t even know who I am.”

Bucky smiled, “You can make decisions like that later, and in fairness, you don’t know who he is either.”

Steve frowned, “Is he bad at it?”

Bucky laughed, “No, but please tell him I said he sucks. He’s a great guy and I kind of think he’s perfect for the job, but so were you. If you repeat any of the last bit to him, I’ll say you’re delusional,” Bucky warned with a grin. Steve’s eyes lit up at the sight of it, hoping he could make Bucky’s face do that far more often.

Bucky smiled at the sound of Steve talking to Bruce and Sam in the living room. He was as personable as he’d always been and genuinely interested in everything they had to say. Sam was telling him what an unerring moral compass he had and what a role model Steve had always been to him; probably embarrassing the hell out of Steve. Bucky was making pesto eggs. Steve used to cook it for him when they had a leisurely morning at home, staying in bed until hunger finally drove them out. It was Steve’s favorite meal in the whole world and the only thing he ever really cooked. Bucky knew his way around the kitchen far better and usually took care of dinner. He was eager to see if Steve’s tastebuds would remember. He also made a pot of coffee with freshly ground dark-roast beans. Steve’s favorite beverage.

“Breakfast’s ready!” he called, laying out the plates and two cups of coffee on the counter.

Steve looked at the green eggs suspiciously, “That smells incredible,” he said, and Bucky knew he’d choke them down and praise them, even if he hated them now.

“Thanks Buck, but we’ve already eaten,” Sam said pointedly, staring at the two plates.

“You don’t eat pesto,” Bucky shot back, “And I know Bruce already had breakfast because he was eating when I left to go to the hospital.”

Steve looked at them with a smile, it was clear that Bucky and Sam were close.

“Do I like pesto?” he asked.

Bucky shrugged, “Only one way to find out,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

Steve mimicked him and groaned happily, “Oh wow. Is this what it’s supposed to taste like? That’s heavenly. The stuff they gave me in the hospital was awful.”

Bucky took a bite of his eggs so he wouldn’t have to answer, his throat was feeling suspiciously scratchy. Steve put a forkful of the eggs in his mouth and closed his eyes, emitting a low hum of delight. “This is phenomenal,” he finally decreed.

All of Steve’s tastes still seemed to be the same, surely that meant he was still something Steve would like too, Bucky thought hopefully.

“It’s a gorgeous day outside, is there anything you want to do?” Bucky asked.

Steve’s brow crinkled, “I have no idea. Maybe we can just go for a walk? I’d kind of just like to get to know my surroundings a little. I must be keeping you from doing your own stuff, eventually I’ll have to start doing things alone.”

Bucky wasn’t planning on ever letting Steve out of his sight again, if he thought he could get away with it he’d get Steve one of those leashes they used on kids. He made a non-committal sound, “I don’t have anything urgent waiting for me, there’s no rush, but familiarizing yourself with the area is a good idea. It should help you feel more at ease.”

They walked down to the lake; an area Bucky hadn’t returned to in all these years. He’d forgotten how beautiful it was.

“I assume others can’t get in here?” Steve asked.

Bucky smiled, “No, the security is pretty tight. A lot of bad people would like to get their hands on the technology inside, and wiping out a few of The Avengers would be a pretty lucrative prize if they could manage it.”

Steve nodded, feeling quite content with the knowledge that they had privacy here. “Tell me some more about my past please,” Steve asked.

“Obviously I had no family left after so many years, but was there anyone I was particularly…close to?” He wanted to ask about his sexual orientation, but couldn’t quite spit it out.

“Me,” Bucky said easily.

Steve nodded, hoping for a little more information, but Bucky didn’t say anything else; there was no way to ask without asking and he didn’t want to say, And were we ever more than friends, because I kind of want to wrap myself around your body and kiss you until your head is spinning.

Bucky felt the tension and wanted to pull Steve down to the grass and beg him to use him in any way he saw fit, but he wasn’t sure if it was Steve’s sexual tension he was feeling, or his own, or if he was projecting his own feelings on to Steve. Steve had always been the dominant one in their relationship, steadfast and confident, soothing and coddling Bucky as needed. It was different having to be the one who took charge and he was constantly second-guessing himself.

“Wow, it’s really hot,” Steve said when they’d been walking for about twenty minutes, Bucky doing most of the talking and verbal acrobatics, trying to side-step anything that came too close to entering uncomfortable territory.

“Let’s go for a swim,” Bucky said immediately.

“Sure,” Steve said, turning around.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked already pulling off his boots.

Steve turned back to look at him, “You mean here?” he asked, looking around.

“Yeah, did you imagine I meant let’s trek back to the house and use the pool? You’re hot now, aren’t you?”

Steve swallowed deeply, Bucky was pulling off his jeans and he wore the same underwear he’d bought Steve. The bulge at the front was substantial. He felt like his oxygen had been cut off, while he was screaming at himself to act like a normal person.

Bucky yanked his tank top over his head and for a minute Steve thought he’d pass out. He was perfect, flawless, and he made all kinds of somersaults turn in Steve’s stomach. To his utter horror, Steve felt his penis growing erect. He immediately sank to the ground and pulled his knees up, taking his time to untie his sneakers.

“Are you okay? You’re looking a little pale,” Bucky asked in concern.

Steve nodded frantically, “Yes! Great. I’m so good. You go in so long; I’ll be there in a minute.”

Bucky looked puzzled, but turned away and walked into the lake. Steve stared for two seconds, then forced himself to look away, desperately trying to get his hard-on under control. He couldn’t let Bucky see that; he’d know immediately. He was definitely, without any doubt, one hundred percent gay, or gay for Bucky, whichever it may be. He lusted after his best friend with a ferocity he didn’t think was normal, but the only person he’d feel comfortable asking was Bucky, and for obvious reasons that was impossible. Bucky’s ass was a work of art, with a gorgeously pronounced contour, muscular and taut, and Steve stared at the grass for a full minute before he was able to get up and remove his clothes.

Bucky watched him walking into the water, his eyes fixed on Steve’s tall frame. He’d lost no obvious muscle mass during his years in the pod, he was as beautiful as ever. Solid, dependable, incredible, home. The love of Bucky’s life. His first, last and everything. Steve finally looked up again when he was waist deep in the water, his eyes meeting Bucky’s, his heart filling with joy at the smile spreading across Bucky’s face. For a while everything else dropped away and he just relaxed into the arms of euphoria, appreciating this moment.

The sun was warm, the water cool, he was with a friend he couldn’t remember, but who stirred incredibly powerful feelings in him. Things would surely get complicated later, but for now, this minute, he was utterly content. Bucky dove under the water and reappeared in front of Steve a few seconds later, shaking his dark hair wildly, spattering drops of water all over Steve, who swept Bucky’s legs from under him and dunked him without thinking. They tussled for a while, splashing and doing their best to submerge each other, laughing and taunting all the while. Steve ran out of breath first and they got out, sitting on the grass, letting the sun’s rays dry them. There was a sense of ease between them suddenly, as if a knot of uncertainty had been untied. Steve no longer had to just take Bucky’s word for it, he knew, felt it deep in his soul, that they had always been exceptionally close and that bond wasn’t rooted simply in memories, it was part of their DNA, and nothing could ever wipe it out. Bucky felt his fears ebbing and couldn’t understand how he’d ever allowed one sentence to wipe away a lifetime of proof. Of course, Steve loved him. He should have known his Steve would never hurt him like that. Even without his memories, even if all it ever was now, was friendship, it was deep, abiding and unshakable.

“We should go on a da-ay out tomorrow,” Bucky suggested, catching himself before the word date was fully formed. “I’ll take you to two places, one will be something you’ve always loved, the other something you don’t enjoy all that much, and we’ll see if that’s still the same.”

Steve smiled, “As long as we can get coffee too, I’ll go anywhere with you.” He’d go without the coffee too, but now that he’d rediscovered the amazing, magical beans, he wanted more and he didn’t want to make Bucky uncomfortable by sounding like he wanted to follow him around like a puppy. Even though he absolutely did. The view from the back was exquisite.

They walked back to the tower slowly and Bucky grilled them some tuna and asparagus for lunch. “I think I’d better take some of those muscle relaxants, I’m feeling a little sore,” Steve admitted.

“Did I grab you too hard earlier?” Bucky asked and Sam popped his head around the door to his room.

“Oh awesome, you told him! Have you two been-“

Bucky nearly threw a lemon at his head.

“Sam! Hey! What are you talking about? Told who what?” Bucky asked manically.

Sam grimaced, realizing his mistake immediately. “Ah, haha, oh, it’s you two. I thought it was Thor and Bruce, they…Uhm, shit. I don’t think I can tell you.” He disappeared back into his room, locking the door audibly.

“That was weird, I don’t know what Thor sounds like, but neither of us sound like Bruce, do we?” Steve asked in confusion.

Bucky glared at Sam’s door before turning back to face Steve, “No, we don’t. Sam is weird, don’t mind him.”

Bucky scrolled through the streaming service and they watched Puss In Boots while eating lunch on the couch in front of the television. Steve hadn’t lost his love for animated movies either, but the pills made him sleepy and he nodded off about an hour into it. He’d been giggling like a small boy until a minute before. Bucky paused the film and pulled Steve down, so his head was resting on Bucky’s lap. He stroked his hair and rubbed his thumb over Steve’s mouth, remembering well how glorious it was to kiss those lips.

He’d loved Steve before he was a super soldier, when he was a small, scrawny kid with more daring and heart than brains, suffering from every ailment known to mankind, but determined to stand up to bullies. The way he looked had never mattered, Bucky loved who he was. He didn’t hate that Steve could swing him over his shoulder and carry him around, physically overpowering him when he really set his mind to it, pin him down and have his wicked way with him, but those were bonuses, not dealbreakers. He didn’t know what Steve would think if he woke up in this position, his hair being stroked tenderly, and he didn’t want to overwhelm him. Bucky got up as gently as he could manage and fetched a pillow for Steve’s head to rest on, lifting his feet on to the couch as well. He got a book to read and sat in the armchair next to the sleeping Steve, keeping guard, making sure he was safe.

~~~

Steve was excited about his day out with Bucky and had to keep telling himself it wasn’t a date. It felt like one to him though and he didn’t know what to wear. He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, but he had to make an effort. He finally chose an off-white, button-up knitted shirt and forest green chinos, with charcoal sneakers. He found a brown leather cuff in one of the drawers and took it off and put it back on a few times, before discarding it in favor of a tiger eye bracelet. He loved the cologne Bucky bought him and spritzed himself three times, before realizing that was probably too much and panicking that he was going to make Bucky’s eyes water.

Bucky found him standing bare chested, flapping his shirt out the window when he came into the room after giving a perfunctory knock. “Is this a bad time?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

Steve pursed his lips in thought. “Not great. I think I overdid it on the cologne,” he admitted.

Bucky walked closer and sniffed the air around Steve, his blood pressure rising exponentially with each deep inhalation. “I think you’re perfect,” Bucky said hoarsely, taking a quick step back.

They went for coffee first, before heading to a nearby ice-skating rink. “Do I know how to do this?” Steve asked, eyeing the sharp blades of the skates.

“Not sure, we’ll have to see,” Bucky returned, fastening his own skates. Steve was on the ice for a second before he fell for the first time. Bucky helped him up and offered his arm to balance Steve while they slowly made their way to the side-rail.

“Is this the thing I hate?” Steve asked.

Bucky laughed, “You haven’t even given it a chance yet. You’re very athletic, take your time and see if you can figure out how to balance.”

Steve gave it a go, but he didn’t think he improved much. He did enjoy it when Bucky put his arm around his waist to help him, so it wasn’t a total disaster, but he’d much rather have stayed at the coffee shop.

He tried for an hour, then shook his head, “No, enough, I don’t enjoy this.” His ass was wet and he was shivering, despite the fact that Bucky had given him his jacket to wear. “You’re swanning around like one of those people who do the shows on ice, I’m holding you back, go on and show me how it’s done, but I’m going to watch you from that bench over there.”

Bucky grinned, “Fine, I guess this wasn’t a success.”

Steve had always abhorred ice-skating, for some reason he just couldn’t get the hang of it and it frustrated him terribly. In all their years together, Bucky had only managed to get him to go skating three times. Four if he included today. It was something that came naturally to him and he showed off a little, knowing Steve was watching him.

Bucky was incredible. Steve didn’t know how he managed it, but for a fairly tall, well-muscled guy, he managed to glide around like he was weightless, the epitome of gracefulness, doing several showy twirls and looking like poetry in motion. Steve could only watch him, awed by his skill, entranced by the way he managed to contort his body. Bucky eventually left the ice, joining Steve on the bench, his lips slightly blue.

“Oh my God, you’re freezing,” Steve said, taking off the jacket and hanging it around Bucky’s shoulders, using his hands to chafe his arm. Bucky wanted to assure him he was fine, but the contact felt so good, he let Steve continue, while the body heat that was still trapped in the jacket soaked into him, Steve’s smell encircling him completely.

They went for a latish lunch, before catching the subway to Brooklyn. Bucky had booked them two easels at a popular paint bar. Their theme for the evening was Ethereal Treetops. A live jazz band was playing in the background; the bar supplied all of the painting materials and served excellent wines by the glass. Anticipation bubbled up in Steve immediately when he looked at the set-up, his fingers itching to hold the paintbrush, to use the palette to mix his colors. He already knew exactly what he wanted to paint, he wasn’t sure if it was a lost memory, or something his creativity cooked up, but he could see it so clearly. Bucky grinned when he saw the familiar far-away look in Steve’s eyes and he knew his imagination had already taken wing.

“You sit down and get started; I’m going to get us some drinks.”

Steve was a great artist and it felt so right to see him sitting there, immediately lost in his own head, plotting out his vision. Bucky didn’t need any more evidence; it was obvious nothing had changed. He liked the same foods, hated the same activities and Bucky was sure there was electricity between them. He’d still hold off on making any type of sexual advance, simply out of consideration for not piling too much on Steve at once, but all of it was still there, he was absolutely sure.

Bucky dabbed at his canvas a few times, but he was having a great time listening to the band, sipping an excellent Merlot and watching Steve paint the view from their house at sunset. Bucky was glad he hadn’t sold the place. Back then, he was tempted to burn it to the ground. To turn it to ashes just like his heart. Instead, he’d locked the door and left, moving into the dankest little place he could find. It had to be very musty, he’d have to get a cleaning company to go and give it a thorough spring-clean. He was hopeful that it wouldn’t be too long before he and Steve moved back.

Steve sat back, looking at what he’d created. The more he stared, the more familiar it felt, but he couldn’t place it. He looked over at Bucky’s easel and laughed, before quickly biting his lip and feeling terrible.

Bucky leaned back in his chair and took a deep sip of his wine, “Steve Rogers, are you being mean to me?” he asked in mock distress. Steve shook his head, keeping his mouth firmly shut. He felt a little better about the ice-skating now. It was very obvious they had different talents.

“I like the bunnies,” Steve said, eyeing the brown and white creatures on the bright green grass.

“They’re squirrels,” Bucky said solemnly and Steve couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer.

“Squirrels don’t have long ears,” he argued.

“Bunnies don’t climb trees,” Bucky countered, pointing to a blob in one of the apple trees.

Steve giggled joyously, “The error is clearly mine, I apologize most profusely,” he said.

Bucky sighed laconically, “Yes, I paint like a six-year-old, we can’t all be artistic geniuses.” Steve stopped himself before he planted a kiss on Bucky’s cheek.

They stayed for the music and more wine, and finally made their way back to the tower when it was nearly midnight. “Thank you,” Steve said when they got inside, his voice full of gratitude. He didn’t want the night to end, it had been absolutely perfect.

“I had a great time, there’s no need to thank me,” Bucky responded, trying desperately to think of some reason not to say goodnight just yet, but nothing sprang to mind.

“Maybe you can come to my room and we’ll chat a while longer, if you’re not too tired?” Steve suggested, a surge of boldness rising in him. Bucky’s mouth was suddenly dry, he didn’t know what he’d do if nothing happened. If Steve really meant they should talk, like chums, he may lose his mind, because need had planted a garden in his body and it was growing wild, taking over every part of him.

“Sure,” he managed, walking into the room ahead of Steve.

Bucky was reaching for the light switch when Steve grabbed his shoulder from behind and turned him into his body, his hands twining in his hair.

“I want to kiss you,” Steve growled softly, his eyes burning into Bucky’s.

Bucky didn’t answer him, he put his hands on the back of Steve’s neck and pulled him down, managing, “Oh thank God,” before their mouths collided and the world surrounding them melted away, until only the two of them were left.

Steve walked Bucky backwards until his back was braced against the door, slowly unbuttoning his shirt while his mouth laid claim to Bucky, leaving no questions as to whether they belonged to each other.

“Did we do this before?” Steve asked raggedly, when his lips moved to Bucky’s neck, slowly kissing the hollow behind his ear, his tongue sweeping over Bucky’s throat before his lips suctioned on, making Bucky tremble.

“Yes,” Bucky admitted, removing Steve’s chinos.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve asked, a note of frustration in his voice.

“It’s a long story, do you want to stop and talk first?” Bucky asked.

“Oh God, no,” Steve sounded horrified. “I want to do a lot of things before we get to talking again.”

Bucky sighed happily, “Oh, good.”

Steve kicked his own pants away, before yanking Bucky’s down. “I don’t think I’m going to be gentle,” he warned and Bucky made a needy little sound that made something dominant roar to life in Steve. He pulled Bucky tight to his body, pressing his erection against his abdomen, feeling Bucky’s large cock wedged between them. He’d been right about the bulge earlier. “Turn around,” Steve ordered, pushing Bucky up against the wall, putting his hands over Bucky’s and pinning them above his head, his fingertips slotting between Bucky’s fingers, just above his knuckles. “I think I love you,” Steve admitted, before putting his mouth to work on Bucky’s neck, his cock slowly pressing into him.

“I love you too,” Bucky gasped, his ass clenching around Steve for a moment, before relaxing again, inviting him inside. “Fuck me hard baby, I’ve missed you so much,” Bucky begged. Steve hated that he had no memories of this. It felt so right, having Bucky’s body trapped by his while he trust into him, each penetrating jab making his brain light up like a Christmas tree. His balls were throbbing, his hands clamped around Bucky’s. He was worried he was being too rough, that he was hurting Bucky, but he couldn’t stop to ask, he trusted Bucky would tell him if he wanted him to slow down.

Instead, Bucky was leaning his head back on to Steve’s right shoulder, breathing fast, murmuring, “Yes, oh God, it’s been so long. I need you so much,” his voice full of reverence, almost like he uttering a prayer. Steve moved faster, skewering Bucky, pushing his cheek against the wall, his full weight leaning forward on to Bucky as only his hips and thighs kept moving. “Cum for me baby, cum please, I can’t hold out much longer,” Steve begged and Bucky whimpered.

“Please don’t wait, I need new pieces of you inside me.” Steve exploded, seeing actual starbursts as his penis pulsed and pulsed, Bucky crying out when he felt the warm semen shooting into him, finding his own release.

Steve didn’t pull out, he stood up straight and pulled Bucky with him, with their fingers still twisted together, he clung to Bucky’s hand, folding his arms around him. “Do you know what that felt like?” Steve asked quietly.

Bucky sighed out a laugh, “Heaven?”

Steve bit his ear, “More,” he corrected Bucky, finally pulling out and tugging Bucky towards the bed. “I want to taste you,” he said, pushing Bucky on to his back and kneeling between his legs, moaning when his tongue found the cum still beaded around the head of Bucky’s cock. “We could have been doing this since I got out of the hospital,” Steve tutted, twirling his tongue around the head, before daintily sucking on the very tip.

“No. I had to give you time,” Bucky tried to argue, but his words dried up when Steve started to lightly massage his balls, his lips still teasing around Bucky’s frenulum. He was already hard again, helplessly lost in ecstasy, voraciously needy. Steve brought Bucky to the edge again and again, stopping when he felt the first hint of pulsing, pinching the tip of his penis between his fingers and forcing the orgasm back. Bucky’s head was rolling around wildly, his thighs shaking, the duvet crushed in his hands. Steve looked at his lover, writhing unrestrainedly, stimulated to the edge of endurance. He swallowed Bucky’s cock, all the way down to his throat, thrusting a finger into his ass and fingering him fast, triumph lifting him when Bucky bellowed, cumming into his mouth. Steve swallowed, keeping his mouth lightly suctioning, elated at the intensity of his orgasm.

“Aehaogh,” Bucky tried to speak, but gibberish came out of his mouth. It was probably a combination of being celibate for years, having gotten Steve back after believing he was gone and the slight hint of anger he could feel buzzing in Steve, but he’d never cum that fiercely. Steve had never pushed him quite that hard before. They always had incredible sex, but Bucky knew he would never forget tonight. “Now tell me,” Steve demanded.

“Oh my love,” he murmured when Bucky was done, kissing him again and again. Soft, comforting kisses full of tenderness. “I don’t remember anything yet, but after two days with you I knew how deep our connection went, how could you have believed I’d do that?”

Bucky had his head on Steve’s shoulder, “I’ve never felt like I deserved you, Steve. Not after HYDRA.”

Steve frowned, “What are you talking about?”

Bucky sighed, “I’m so happy right now, can I tell you in the morning? All the things I’ve glossed over.”

Steve paused, “I’m not sure I love the sound of that all, did something terrible happen between us?”

Bucky rubbed his head on Steve’s shoulder, “Terrible things happened to us, but we’ve never purposely hurt each other.” Steve was satisfied with that for tonight. He wanted to make out endlessly and make love to the man he adored.

The sun was coming up, the room turning incrementally from black to grey; Steve sat with his knees bent to the sides, the bottoms of his feet touching, Bucky in his lap, with his legs wrapped around Steve’s waist, pressed so close to him that his anus was able to sink down over Steve’s cock. Their lips were locked, arms wrapped around each other and Bucky was tilting his hips back and forth, setting the rhythm of their thrusting. They were exhausted, and finally nearly sated.

There had been frantic fucking, long bouts of kissing, gentler copulation and now they were softly making love, wound together completely, kissing without end, marveling at their happiness. Their final release was far less explosive than some of the others, but it left them utterly satisfied. Relaxed to the point of somnolence, and they finally tumbled on to the mattress, sinking into sleep with their hands clasped together.

~~~

Steve had been horrified when Bucky told him about all the bits he left out, especially when Bucky admitted to the guilt that never left him of his time as an assassin.

“You have to go to therapy,” Steve declared.

Bucky scowled, “I’d give the therapist nightmares, is that what you want, to traumatize some poor, unsuspecting head doctor? I spoke to someone at SHIELD.”

Steve’s brows wrinkled, “I’m not sure I trust them completely, they have their own agenda. We have to find you someone who specializes in trauma.”

Bucky pulled him closer, “I don’t need to talk to anyone babe, I’ve got you back.”

They’d spent two days in Steve’s room, only exiting to get food and drinks. There’d been a lot of the promised talking, but far more kissing and rediscovering. Bucky felt as content as a kitten in a mohair blanket.

“This isn’t negotiable,” Steve said fiercely, a commanding tone to his voice that made the hair on the back on Bucky’s neck rise in splendid anticipation.

Bucky batted his eyelashes, “What will you do if I refuse?” he asked defiantly.

Steve rolled on top of him, moving his hips from side to side, his dick rubbing lightly over Bucky’s stomach, more blood rushing into it with every pass. He kissed Bucky deeply, until he was uttering soft, needy, moans. “I won’t do any of that,” Steve whispered, putting his hand on Bucky’s cock, stroking him gently.

“Oh, fuck babe, I’ll go anywhere you want me to,” Bucky agreed, incapable of putting up even a token resistance.

~~~

Every day was like opening a brand-new gift, which turned out to be exactly what he wanted. Steve wished fervently his memories would come back, he didn’t want to lose the myriad of moments he’d shared with Bucky in the past. He would never hear about all of them, or have them from his own perspective. Bucky wouldn’t know how often he watched him and just marveled at his own good fortune. The little things that made Steve’s heart feel like it would explode with love. There was a particular sound he made when he was incredibly turned on and his eyes would close and his mouth open in a silent scream, which made Steve hornier no matter how turned-on he already was. Steve didn’t want to lose any of these tiny, intimate facts that made up the whole of how much he loved his sassy, incorrigible, insatiable boyfriend, but if the memories never returned, he was okay with making new ones.

Bucky was reborn. He was having the time of his life reintroducing Steve to all his favorite things. They spent their days watching movies, reading, painting, playing cards, hanging out with the other Avengers when they were around. Steve remained adamant he didn’t want his shield back. He’d help out if there was an emergency, but Captain America’s mantle belonged with Sam. Bucky felt relief at that, he knew Steve had grown progressively more uncomfortable with working for the government in recent years and this would give them more time together. He’d also been in touch with Shuri and she was working on a vibranium-based, collapsible energy shield for Steve, which would be capable of withstanding powerful attacks. He needed to know he was safe. Bucky would wait for Steve to pick his own name, but he thought perhaps The Sentinel, or something similarly neutral, that showed he wasn’t aligned with a specific government or authority, but dedicated himself to global justice. He’d bring that up when Steve wanted to return to work, for now they were on vacation. A sexy, lazy, relaxing vacation.

~~~

“I have a surprise for you,” Bucky told Steve. “You should pack up all your stuff.”

Steve cocked his head to the side, “Are we moving?”

Bucky groaned, “You haven’t forgotten what the word surprise means, have you?”

Steve chuckled, “Fine. You know I’d follow you to the gates of hell.”

Bucky blindfolded Steve, who grumbled, “I literally don’t remember anything, so if it’s not somewhere you’ve taken me before I won’t recognize it.”

Bucky ignored him, helping him into the passenger seat of his car. “Indulge me, please,” he asked, kissing the side of Steve’s head. Steve immediately stopped complaining.

Bucky was shocked at the sense of homecoming he felt when he pulled into their driveway and into the garage. The landscapers had done an amazing job of getting the garden to look amazing and he had the cleaning company out three times, so they could deep-clean everything. It smelled of polish and fabric softener when he opened the door and Steve inhaled deeply.

“Oh, that’s very nice, where are we?” Bucky took off his blindfold and scooped Steve into his arms before he could argue, carrying him over the threshold, into their home.

Steve laughed, “Nobody would believe me if I told them how sentimental you are. Did you rent us a house?”

Bucky put Steve down and took his hand, “This is our house, where we were living before…you disappeared. I couldn’t bear to come back here. We bought it together.” Steve looked around with child-like wonder.

“This is where we shared our life? We picked out all these things?” Bucky nodded, watching breathlessly as Steve prowled around, touching and inspecting everything.

“It’s beautiful,” he finally said, “We have amazing taste.” Bucky grinned, “Well you obviously do,” he said, indicating himself.

Steve laughed, “Oh baby, you shouldn’t be so modest, you need to get some more self-confidence.” Steve tugged him toward the main bedroom, “I believe after you carry me over the doorstep, it’s customary to christen the bed.”

Bucky swooned a little, then rallied, “Re-christen, this bed has been very thoroughly broken in.”

Steve’s eyes gleamed, “Well then, I guess we’ll have to try and show it something it hasn’t seen before.”

Bucky looked dubious, “I don’t know if that’s possible, it’s seen a lot, but I’m very willing to give it a go.”

Steve felt so full of love, that he imagined he’d burst open, prisms of rainbow light shooting from him if any more emotion added the mix. “Kiss me,” he ordered Bucky, who immediately hurled himself into Steve’s arms, “Yes, Sir!” he said swiftly.

Steve felt like a dam wall burst open in his head. Memories tumbling out like a mountain of diamonds, each one falling into its own special slot. He sank down to the floor, his eyes screwed shut against the intensity of it all. The pain, joy, love, camaraderie, friendship, all of it washing over him in a huge tidal wave.

“Steve! Babe, are you okay? Please talk to me,” Bucky asked frantically, trying to pull Steve’s hands away from his eyes. It took a few minutes and Steve was panting by the end, trying to reassure Bucky that he was okay in monosyllables.

Bucky was terrified. What if this was some terrible, unforeseen consequence of being in the pod for so long? What if he was losing Steve all over again?

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve said softly and Bucky froze. He hadn’t told Steve his full names. Maybe someone else did? “I’m with ya ‘til the end of the line pal,” Steve said, his voice getting stronger. “It wasn’t too long after that when I kissed you for the first time.”

Bucky grabbed his face between his hands, “You remember?”

Steve nodded, “It’s always been you and me Buck. If anyone wearing my face and eyes ever try to tell you differently, you tell them to fuck off and start looking for me, because I love you. Only you. Forever you. I want us to get married. Will you marry me? Sorry, no wait, I’m going to do something special and make it a big surprise. Could we wipe your memory for a bit?”

Bucky was laughing and crying, shaking his head, “No take-backs, I’m marrying you. As soon as possible. I love you so much,” Bucky babbled, straddling Steve’s lap and kissing him deeply, “Forever. Promise me?”

Steve pulled his mouth down, “Til the end of the line, baby,” he swore, sealing their pact with a kiss.

[whitewoofs]

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