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[endsinafight]

He should have known something weird was going to happen considering the fact that it was a full moon. But he was trying his best to put as much weird behind him as he could, and that included any kind of supernatural or alien shenannigans. Not that he wouldn't pitch in and do his part if it came down to it, but these days, Bucky much preferred sticking closer to the old brownstone he'd taken up residence in the last few weeks, since the Snap had been reversed. That wasn't to say he stayed locked up in his new place, because he hadn't. He'd been out to see Steve and his grandkids earlier that day, in fact.

Yesterday, he'd reluctantly agreed to have lunch with Sam, whom was turning out to be a pretty good friend. It wasn't something he would have imagined a year ago. Or -- technically, five years ago.

No, Bucky was doing his best to scrape together some semblance of a life in the wake of Thanos' reign and the Snap, and Tony's death and Steve's trip to the past.

And, and, and.

It was just a lot easier said than done. Some people still looked at him funny when he went to the stores, no doubt recognizing him and wondering if they were about to be brutally murdered. He wanted to tell them so badly that they weren't in any danger from him. He didn't want to hurt anyone.

He was lucky if he got four or five hours of sleep at night, and most of that was still filled with nightmares. Tonight was no exception and at 2 in the morning, he found himself staring out the kitchen window, drinking a glass of water when the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up, and he knew, instinctively, that shit was about to get weird.

Heart beating fast in his chest, he turned, pausing at the sight of Steve Rogers standing behind him, looking around like he was confused, and damned if Bucky wasn't confused, too, because this wasn't an old man.

This Steve looked like he was 26 or 27, tops.

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[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“I’m sorry you were alone, too,” Steve said softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up.”

He didn’t know what to say to address the enormity of what had happened to Bucky. He rubbed his cheek again and his eyes prickled, over tired and emotional.

[endsinafight]

He hadn't been alone, exactly. At least not when he was thawed out and awake. They rarely left him alone at all.

"Not your fault," Bucky said sincerely, holding his hand out to help him up. "Come on. Let's crawl into bed for a few hours. We can still talk if you want. Or we can rest. Whichever." But Steve looked like he was about to start crying and if they went down that road, Bucky would be right behind him, like always.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Even if there were HYDRA attending to him, Steve thought Bucky was alone in every way that counted.

He took Bucky’s hand with gratitude and stood up. He needed to be saved from himself.

“Good idea,” he said, a little gruff. “As long as I don’t wake up with this as a weird hypothermic dream.”

[endsinafight]

"It's weird enough to be a dream, I'm sure. But I'm real, Pal," Bucky said quietly, tugging him into a hug and patting his back.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve hugged back hard, only barely resisting clinging like he did before.

“Thank you,” he said, into Bucky’s shoulder. “I know you didn’t have any warning in having my old news dumped on to your lap.”

[endsinafight]

Bucky closed his eyes, holding onto him tightly. "I don't mind," he responded, honest. It threw him, sure, but he can't deny that having Steve around made him feel more alive. Made him feel needed. Worth something. He knew he couldn't get used to it, because this wasn't going to last forever. It couldn't.

"Come on." He kept an arm around his waist and pulled him down the hall toward the bedroom once more. Alpine had already curled up in a ball on his pillow, but she stretched herself out when she saw them. "She might even share the bed with us."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve laughed at Alpine’s languid stretch and her gentle meow of welcome.

“Oh we should be so lucky to share a bed with that beautiful lady,” he joked, leaning a little into Bucky. He felt half drunk on exhaustion and Bucky’s warmth.

[endsinafight]

Bucky laughed quietly at that, reaching up and squeezing the back of Steve's neck with his right hand, gently. "She's very generous like that." He nodded toward the bed.

"I don't really have a side preference if you wanna pick."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve felt that casual touch underneath his skin. He hadn’t had anyone like this in his life since Bucky had died—it was overwhelming to have it back.

He felt the warmth of it, and crawling into bed together felt like the best and worst thing in the world.

“I’ll take the right,” he said. He’d slept on the right bed in their room. He was trying to remind himself of the platonic history they had, that this was an extension of that.

[endsinafight]

"Okay," Bucky agreed quietly, heart skipping a couple beats and reluctantly letting his hand drop away so that Steve can move to the far side of the bed. The familiarity of it almost hurt. He'd always been on Steve's left -- walking, marching in the army, sleeping on a shared bed. It was almost dizzying.

He licked his lips and slowly moved toward the opposite side of the bed. Normally he'd sleep without a shirt on, or with a tank top at the most, but he wasn't ready to freak Steve out with the sight of his new left arm and worse yet, the severe scarring around his left shoulder. He'd rather ease him into that, so for now, he kept his long-sleeved shirt on, as well as his glove. He wasn't dumb enough to think Steve hadn't noticed that detail, but he also hadn't said anything about it. That was fine with Bucky.

They needed to rest, especially Steve.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve had been overwhelmed by any number of things in the last few hours and he’d not questioned strange moments like Bucky keeping on his glove, to eat, and to shave him. But when they went into bed together, the light dim but with the beginnings of what would soon be sunrise, and Bucky was still wearing the glove—Steve had to ask.

They were curled up together, facing each other like parentheses, and Alpine stuck herself between their bodies purring. His voice was soft, when he finally spoke.

"What happened to your hand?"

[endsinafight]

He reached out and stroked his fingers gently down Alpine's fur, exhaling even as he let his gaze dart up to meet Steve's eyes. "Injury in the fall," he admitted quietly, knowing it was unnecessary to whisper or even be so quiet when it was just the three of them. But something about the moment -- curled up together, soft light, and being reunited after so long apart -- felt like it should be quiet. Hushed.

Bucky knew that trying to protect Steve from everything would only last for so long because Steve had never wanted to be coddled. But it didn't stop his instinct from wanting to protect him. It never had.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve impulsively reaches for Bucky, gently pushing a lock of his long hair out of his eyes.

“You think I care about scars from a war wound?” he said, naked affection in his voice.

[endsinafight]

Bucky held his breath at the light touch, Steve's fingers grazing against his skin, the warmth in his voice. "No," he admitted. "No, I don't think that."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

"Well, then," Steve said. "Do you usually wear your glove to bed? I don’t mind. I just want you to be comfortable."

He swallowed, hard. "I want you to be comfortable with me."

He didn’t add anything about how they used to be comfortable with each other, how it had been before the war. It wasn’t even true that he wanted it to be the same—he just wanted closeness.

[endsinafight]

Well, he couldn't argue with that logic. He reached over and carefully tugged the glove off, moving it to the bedside table and letting his gaze returning to Steve's face. It had taken him a long time to adjust to the arm that HYDRA had forced on him. He had vivid memories of trying to claw it off before they'd sufficiently reconditioned him into leaving it alone. He was glad, in a way, that Tony Stark had gotten rid of it for him. He'd never be glad for anything else that happened that day, or for the fallout, but as painful as it had been physically, part of him had been relieved to have it gone.

He'd been fine without having a replacement regardless of how many time Shuri offered, but once all hell started breaking loose, he'd finally, reluctantly, consented to the procedure to attach it, he hadn't felt the need to have it removed. The only blood on this one belonged to beings that tried (almost successfully) to end humanity, and he didn't regret any of the kills he had for that.

He shifted a little closer to Steve, reaching out and draping his right arm around his torso.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the gleaming black and gold prosthetic he saw—he hadn’t even realized it was metal, hadn’t for a moment considered that Bucky had some sort of replacement. The future was really incredible, and he suspected this was unusual even for his familiar 2012.

He moved closer to Bucky, eager for the way that he reached out to touch Steve. He reached out with his own hand to gently touch the smooth metal, running his fingers over the back of Bucky’s hand.

"It’s beautiful," he said, quietly. "You lose the hand in the fall?"

[endsinafight]

Bucky flexed his fingers lightly when Steve touched him there, enjoying the contact. For an arm that wasn't flesh, it certainly felt like having a real one. The HYDRA one had been sensitive, too, tech far ahead of its time, but even it paled in comparison to Wakanda's tech and Shuri's work. He made a mental note to call her soon since he hadn't spoken with her in a couple weeks now.

"Thanks," he agreed, pausing momentarily. "Arm, actually." Although technically he'd still had most of his arm when he'd first been captured. That hadn't lasted long. He suspected that even if he hadn't been injured, they would have sawed his arm off anyway. The electronic arm was part of what made him into such a good weapon, after all.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Something ached in Steve’s chest, to imagine Bucky in pain and missing his arm. He ran his fingers up the back of Bucky’s hand, feeling the metal on the wrist underneath his long-sleeve shirt, and then gently pushed the fabric up—it was the same beautiful metal.

It was sad, to think of him hurt. But it wasn’t so big of a deal, not with something like this—Steve hurt for him, but it didn’t have the same horror as the idea of his captivity.

"I didn’t even realize. Normally I’d say that was me being stupid, but this is really incredible. Can you feel my touch?"

[endsinafight]

Bucky relaxed when he didn't pick up on any hint of Steve blaming himself. He watched his fingers move up and down the metal, tiny goosebumps cropping up on his other arm, on the back of his neck. It was almost enough to make him shiver, but he wouldn't let himself.

"Yes," Bucky admitted. "It's pretty high tech. I can pretty much feel everything the same with it the way I can my right arm."

He trailed his gaze over Steve's face, scraping his teeth over his lower lip.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve sent a quick glance at Bucky’s face, seeing the way he bit his lip.

"Does that mean I should stop touching you?" he asked, his heart pounding in a way he couldn’t fully explain—or maybe just that he didn’t want to admit to.

[endsinafight]

Alarm bells were going off in his head, but he ignored them again anyway.

"No," Bucky murmured, shifting closer and resting his head against Steve's chest, closing his eyes and exhaling. "Not at all."

Touch had been so tricky for the last few years. He'd flinch anytime anyone got too close, tense up even if it was Steve just resting a hand on his shoulder, an involuntary reaction to trauma according to Shuri. He wasn't always on edge anymore now, even if he still had a tendency to startle easier than most people. Now he craved touch, closeness, but so rarely got either. It was probably part of the reason he'd clung onto Alpine when he'd found her.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve’s breath caught in his chest when Bucky moved even closer, actually cuddled up against his chest. Warmth filled him even as he simultaneously had to blink quickly trying to keep the depth of his feelings from spilling over. He used the hand that wasn’t stroking Bucky’s arm to wrap around him, tug him closer. He’d never let go of Bucky, if that’s what Bucky wanted.

Feeling daring—or just half-drunk with feelings and exhaustion—he dipped his head to press his face into the top of Bucky’s, smelling his hair.

[endsinafight]

It was a lot, to be wrapped up like this, in Steve's arms. Almost overwhelming, like all of his senses were on overload. He also never wanted to move away. Even back before the war they'd curl up together -- claiming necessity most nights because it had been so cold. But the truth was always more complicated than they'd ever discussed, at least on his part. They'd always been affectionate, tactile -- more so than most guys were with one another. He'd tried to pretend it was because they'd grown up in one another's pockets and that was all there was to it, but there was always more, wasn't there?

He'd forgotten how good it felt to just be held like this. It wasn't quite cuddling, but it sort of was.

"You okay?" His voice was so, so quiet. He pressed his hand between Steve's shoulder blades, gentle but firm. If it was this overwhelming for him, this had to be a lot for Steve, too.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

One of Steve’s defining characters traits was his stubborness, and one of the biggest ways he’d used that for years is in his persistant refusal to acknowledge to himself all the different ways he loved Bucky. He explained so many things away for himself under the explanation that Bucky was his best friend, his brother. But the truth was, his feelings for Bucky hadn’t been brotherly for a long time.

The shock of Bucky’s death had made the reality impossible to ignore. He’d sat in that dark bar, trying and failing to get drunk, and knew with certainty that he loved Bucky, he wanted Bucky. Body and soul. That moment was recent enough that the knowledge still ached like a healing wound. Maybe if it had been a few years from now, this moment. Maybe then he could have had time to push it back, focus on what Bucky should mean to him instead of how he actually felt—but he was still raw.

He held Bucky right, firm arms belying the intensity of his feeling.

“I’m amazing,” Steve said, rough but sincere. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”