Spam for littleguyfrombrooklyn

[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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[endsinafight]

Something about those particular words unlocked a jumble of emotions he'd been hiding away for such a long time now. He drew in a shuddering breath, tightening his arm around Steve, too, and pressing his face against Steve's neck. He smelled clean and fresh, from the shower and the shaving cream. He struggled, face crumpling involuntarily at the memory of Steve stepping through that portal for the last time flashed through his mind.

He'd known he was going back, that he was planning to stay back in time and live out his life with Peggy the way he'd always wanted. Bucky hadn't been angry with him; he understood. And if anyone deserved to be happy, it was Steve Rogers. He'd sacrificed so goddamned much throughout his life that Bucky couldn't bring himself to beg him to stay with him.

It didn't mean that it came without hurt. Because it hadn't. Bucky felt gutted. He felt gutted every time he saw his best friend, but he did a good job of hiding it. He just didn't go around him that much -- made easier by the fact that Steve and his kids lived so much farther north and Bucky was here in Brooklyn to help Sam, and Wanda, and Peter and whatever other younger generation Avenger that might land on his doorstep. It wasn't the life he'd wanted, exactly, but it did give him a reason to keep going.

But fuck, he'd missed this. Missed the Steve who'd found Bucky to be a priority and not an afterthought. He hadn't realized it, but his fingers had grasped onto Steve's shirt, twisting it into a tight knot in his fist.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Bucky had been so strong for this entire crazy night, calm and secure in his affection and care. He’d been fundamentally unsurprised by Steve’s presence in a way that allowed Steve to use him as a foundation—this was within the realm of life, this was okay. He had thought that it was Bucky’s calm that was the only thing keeping him together. But the moment that Bucky shuddered, pushing himself into Steve like he wanted to burrow inside, like he wanted never to let go—Steve felt a deep well of his own calm within himself. He felt Bucky grab onto his shirt and he knew that now it was his turn to reassure, even though he didn’t know exactly what had sparked this.

He rubbed Bucky’s back, feeling the intensity of their shared emotion like a warm fire.

"I love you," he said into the top of Bucky’s head. He was tempted to qualify it somehow, add like a brother—but it felt like a lie in the face of their bodies pressed together, the desperate tension of his shirt being pulled against his body.

"I love you, and I missed you."

He wanted to promise that he’d never leave again—but he had another Bucky that he needed to rescue and he knew that this Bucky didn’t want to go with him.

[endsinafight]

It had been a long time since Bucky let himself feel much of anything. He'd become an expert at ignoring his own emotions, pushing them down and back and keeping a tight lid on all of it. He wasn't honestly sure how much of that was thanks to leftover HYDRA programming and training and how much of it was just him struggling to survive in a world that he was never sure he wanted to be part of at all. What he knew was that he wasn't supposed to want things.

But right now he wanted to stay like this with Steve forever, and he knew that wasn't going to happen.

All the air left his lungs at the quiet muttering of those three words, oxygen punched out of him so easily without even a hint of violence involved. Hot tears streaked down his cheeks, bleeding into the material of Steve's shirt but he didn't dare move to try and wipe them away. If he moved, the moment would be broken and he didn't know what would happen once it was. He was afraid to find out. Afraid this was just a dream or a hallucination. Afraid that it wasn't. He wasn't sure which was going to be more difficult in the long run.

"Me too," he whispered, voice strained.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve felt Bucky’s tears against his chest, the painful stillness of his body, and he just held him tight. He wasn’t exactly sure what they were both admitting to right now, wasn’t sure what Bucky meant exactly by saying that he loved Steve—but whatever Bucky meant, Steve felt the same. His love for Bucky could fill oceans and it was as changeable. He loved Bucky in all the ways someone could love another person—even, in this moment, he felt almost paternal. Holding Bucky and thinking, I’m going to do right by him. I’m going to take care of him as best I can. He loved him like a child loves a parent, with the boundless faith that Bucky would always be there. He loved him like a brother, with squabbles but the unshakablele certainty that the bond couldn’t be broken. He loved him like a friend, with the feeling of blessing from the universe that you found a person like this, this person who could be your family without any blood—the amazement that your luck could be so good.

And, he couldn’t even deny it in this moment, he loved Bucky’s body, the physical weight of him in his arms. The smooth curve of his muscles, the dimple in his chin, even the faint crows feet emerging from his eyes—the proof of a hard life, but on a face that was at it’s core made for smiling. He loved the scent of him, the musk and sweat—it had changed, in seventy years, with too many differences in body chemistry and hygiene products to count, but it still made Steve’s gut go warm and his tongue to salivate, wanting to taste. He loved him, in all his individual specificity, and he wanted to know everything about him.

"We’re going to be okay," Steve said. "No matter what, Bucky. No matter what happens, I love you."

[endsinafight]

"It's gonna be okay, Buck."

It hadn't been followed with an assurance of love, except unspoken, that time. The hug had been more goodbye than reassurance. This one felt different, felt like an unspoken promise that he knew wouldn't be kept, really. They might love each other -- he wasn't alert or sharp enough right then to try and suss out any definition behind that whispered promise -- but all too soon the world would force them apart again. It always, always did. He wasn't optimistic enough to believe it would ever be different for any version of them.

But for now, it did help soothe his nerves and his breathing began to slow as he curled farther into the warmth of Steve's body, Alpine purring as she remained cuddled between them.

"Love you too, Stevie," he murmured, grip on Steve's shirt beginning to relax.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Bucky telling him he loved him back hit Steve, hard. He felt it in his chest, warming him from the inside, and he pressed Bucky hard enough against his own body that it might have been uncomfortable for a less sturdy man. He forced himself to release Bucky as soon as he realized, unused to the idea that tBucky was just as strong as him.

"Go to sleep, Buck," he murmured, rubbing Bucky’s back. He was warm and soft in Steve’s arms and Steve liked the idea of being able to watch over him.

[endsinafight]

It was hours later when Bucky started to slowly come back to awareness and wakefulness. There was light filtering through the window blind and curtains, but he kept his eyes closed, feeling heavy with sleep and -- his eyebrows furrowed a little as he realized he just felt heavier than usual, period. It took him a moment to realize that there was an arm draped around his torso and for the briefest second, panic flooded him. It ended quickly as memories from earlier slammed into his mind.

Steve.

At some point in the last few hours, he'd apparently turned over in his sleep (not surprising, considering how much he tended to toss and turn), and he could feel Steve's warm breath against the back of his neck. One of the other man's thighs was slid between his own. Steve was the equivalent of a human koala in his sleep these days, apparently.

Bucky wasn't complaining. He breathed, slow and deep, letting his eyes drift shut again and enjoying the warmth from Steve's body against his own, Alpine curled up above their heads on the pillow they were sharing.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve hadn’t intended to sleep, he had wanted to memorize every inch of Bucky’s face while he was asleep and it was less weird (or at least less noticeable) when he stared. But the warmth of his body was soothing, and Steve had been sleeping on the cold ground at a high enough altitude that normal people would need oxygen tanks. When Bucky’s breathing evened into sleep, Steve soon followed.

He woke up just as quickly as Bucky did, immediately on edge because he felt the jolt of tension in Bucky’s body. But when Bucky relaxed back into the hood, Steve did too, letting himself drift slowly into awareness. They were wrapped up embarrassingly in each other, Steve’s whole body plastered against Bucky’s back, close enough that the warmth had gathered between Steve’s legs. He eased his hips back, but didn’t otherwise disentangle himself.

“Good morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

[endsinafight]

Bucky couldn't quite help the smile that stretched across his lips at the sound of Steve's voice, sleepy and warm even if he felt him shift a little backwards -- just enough for Bucky to realize why he was doing it. Oh. He didn't think much about it, it was just a normal body reaction to both morning and being pressed up against another person's body. It didn't mean anything.

"Morning," he murmured in return, letting his eyes close again. He wasn't necessarily ready to get up yet, not when he was feeling the safest, and most comfortable he'd felt since before the war eighty years ago. He and the Steve from his own timeline had never done this, not even in Wakanda, after everything. He'd been too jumpy when it came to touch in general, too on edge. He supposed the fact that he can let Steve get this close now, with no real hesitation or issues, meant that he'd done some healing.

Shuri would be proud. Alpine purred, stretching out above them as she, too, began to wake up, her face rubbing against Bucky's forehead sweetly.

"Sleep okay?"

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Bucky’s relaxation was intoxicating. In the war, after Steve had rescued him, he’d been jumpy and stressed, more or less avoiding Steve a lot of the time. And even when they were growing up, most of the time Steve wasn’t holding Bucky like this, lovingly held against his body.

Steve’s morning problem wasn’t going anywhere. Bucky smelled good and felt good and Steve wasn’t going to do a single thing to shift him if he could help it.

“Mhmm,” Steve hummed one agreement. “Amazing. Best in a long time.”

He gently squeezed Bucky and then pushed his face into Bucky’s hair, almost nuzzling in parallel with Alpine.

“How about you?”

[endsinafight]

Bucky wasn't entirely sure why that response sent warmth flooding through his veins, but it did. The knowledge that being reunited with Bucky had helped Steve get a good night's rest made his insides melt. The realization that he'd slept for hours without nightmares -- a first in he didn't even know how long -- because Steve had been there holding him...that was something entirely new, too.

Goosebumps rose up on his arm when Steve buried his face in Bucky's hair and a quiet, satisfied sigh escaped him. Maybe they could just stay in bed for the day.

"Likewise," he admitted softly.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“Let’s just not get up,” Steve murmured. “I’m too comfortable here.”

He didn’t know that he was echoing Bucky’s thoughts so closely, but the pervasive comforting feel of their position was impossible to ignore. He felt so good, so warm and happy. The ice was a long way away, and it felt like it was impossible to be lonely, when he was feeling like this.

“I can’t tell if you have the perfect bed or it’s just the company.”

[endsinafight]

Bucky almost chuckled because they were definitely on the same wavelength at the moment, the way they used to be so often. On some level he knew that two grown men snuggling wasn't normal even for a close friendship, but he didn't want to think about what it meant at the moment. If he did, he would start obsessing and worrying and not be present and all he wanted was to store this memory away, make it last as long as possible.

"Fine by me," he told him, yawning and letting his eyes close even as Alpine purred.

He covered Steve's arm with his own, not really thinking about it, but wanting to touch him, too, and without moving, that was all he could really do. "Well, maybe both. You been camping out for a few weeks."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve was in the perfect stage of relaxation for this. This was just blissful, and the peace he felt allow him to push away all the concern he might have about meaning and consequence. It had been a long time since he felt like he could simply be Steve Rogers, in the moment, and right now he was there. Of course Bucky could help him—he always had. Sometimes the only thing that turned Steve’s angry, churning brain off was being around Bucky.

He sighed softly when Bucky touched his arm, smiling into his hair. He liked that Bucky wanted to touch him back.

“I think if you showed up in Nepal yesterday, I’d be feeling just as good waking up.”

[endsinafight]

Bucky held his breath as Steve essentially narrowed down the options to why he'd slept so well being Bucky's presence rather than the comfortable bed. "Missed you, too, Pal," he murmured, reading between those lines so, so easily. He rubbed his thumb absently over Steve's knuckles, a subconscious effort at offering comfort.

This was his Steve, but it also wasn't, and it was hard to wrap his mind around. It was the same Steve who would have found his younger self in the throes of HYDRA's captivity, but the timeline had been altered now, simply because he knew years before that Bucky was still alive. Because instead of staying in DC, he'd gone looking for Bucky. He wondered what it meant for this Steve's future with his younger self, how it would alter the course of things. If it would be for the better, or if it would be a disaster.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve twisted his hand around to grasp Bucky’s, holding it firmly and pushing it to his own chest, as if he was having Bucky hug himself too. He was so happy to be here, so happy to have found Bucky—even if there was more work there to be done, he thought with a note of disquiet. The fact that Bucky missed him back—that was nice, the immediate reaction was a glow of reciprocal care, but it reminded him why this Bucky was left missing him. That the other Steve had left him.

He reduced any sliver of distance between them, pushing him close and holding him tight. He was suddenly brutally aware that he didn’t want to leave—and yet. He couldn’t stand the thought of abandoning his own Bucky.

[endsinafight]

A quiet, pleased noise escaped him when Steve shifted closer once more, their bodies pressed together in a way that didn't feel like he was suffocating or trapped, but loved and protected. And he knew he shouldn't need that because it wasn't like he was unable to protect himself -- he could, better than most people. And with anyone else, he probably would have struggled, would have felt caged in, on edge. With Steve, it was the opposite. It always had been, even when he'd done his best to push Steve away, like after Azzano. Like when he'd spent two years literally running away from him, the only person on the planet who still gave a damn about Bucky Barnes.

He had living relatives. Great, great nieces and nephews, most of whom he'd never met, though he knew where they all lived. Knew about their families and their children and their lives. But only one had ever reached out to him -- Becca's great granddaughter, Lisa. She was in her late thirties and was the spitting image of his sister. It was almost eerie. She'd invited him to Easter just a couple months back, but he'd politely declined. He didn't do well with crowds of strangers, and he doubted anyone would be really comfortable having The Winter Solider around the house or around their kids. She'd tried to get him to change his mind, but he'd held firm. She sent him letters once a week -- actual honest to God letters, and he made an effort to write back at least a couple times a month.

Getting too close to anyone was dangerous. HYDRA was gone of course -- at least as far as he knew -- but there were plenty of others who would be more than happy to use loved ones in an attempt to get to him for their own purposes, so mostly he just kept to himself. It was part of why he'd stayed away from Steve as long as he had, why he hadn't ever tried to get him to stay in Wakanda, why he'd never tried harder. Steve leaving was as much his own fault as Steve's.

He was deep in thought when his phone beeped. He opened his eyes to glance at the bedside table, seeing Sam's name on the text message alert.

"You haven't met Sam yet, have you? Sam Wilson?"

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

The quiet felt pensive—Bucky was clearly thinking about something, but Steve didn’t really want to think. He was comfortable being in this moment, but it was hard to imagine what would happen moving forward and it was difficult to face thinking about the past. He just tried to exist, enjoying the warmth of the midday sunlight, the warmth of Bucky’s body. The sound of his breath and Alpine’s quiet purring.

It could be 2012 or 1940, with his eyes closed. The only difference was that his breathing was easier and the smells were different, but the gentle comfort, that was the same.

His mind floated, but he was brought back to the moment by the unnatural ping of Bucky’s phone. He blinked, feeling a little like he was waking up, and said, "No. Never met him. I take it I will?"

[endsinafight]

Bucky hummed quietly, closing his eyes once more and not making any move to grab his phone. If it was important, Sam would be calling and not texting. He was probably trying to convince him to go to lunch or dinner again, and well. That wasn't going to happen. Not with Steve there. As far as the public believed, Steve Rogers had died fighting Thanos and saving the world, and that was why Sam now had his shield.

"Yeah. You will," he told him. He assumed. Although now with the changes, he wasn't sure that was true, and it made him frown a little. "You guys were best friends." There was no jealousy there. Not now, after everything, even if maybe that had been true at the beginning, on both of their parts.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve clutched Bucky tighter at that, as if to ward off the idea he’d have another best friend. When he was growing up, he never really saw the need for more than one friend. It was only with the Howlies that he actually had a community for himself, a team—but even they were more comrades than friends. He hated the idea of having found someone that could take the position that rightly belonged to Bucky.

"I’m sure he’s a nice guy," Steve said, neutrally. He thought that hopefully he’d have no need of another best friend—though friend, simply, wouldn’t be so bad.

[endsinafight]

Bucky was quiet for a moment when Steve's embrace tightened a little, as if in denial of what he'd just told him. He squeezed Steve's hand gently, tugging it up to rest over his heart. "He is," he agreed, voice still soft. "He was a really good friend to you, and he's been a good friend to me, too." His lips quirked up in a smile, involuntarily. "We hated each other at first, though. Not going to lie about that."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

"Is he your best friend, now?" Steve asked, softly. He was caught on that—maybe when he was a little more used to the idea that the Steve here lived without Bucky for years and years, tried to make a life without him. Maybe then he could accept the idea of it being funny that Bucky met his new best friend and they hated each other.

Now, though—he was just caught by this strange mourning, this sense of loss for his other self, for this Bucky.

[endsinafight]

"Nah." He couldn't -- wouldn't -- give that title to someone else. Couldn't bring himself to do so. Didn't want to. "Just good friends." He was probably closer to Sam than anyone else these days, really. Well. Maybe not now, with Steve right there. He held onto his arm a little more tightly.

"We been grabbing a meal together about once a week." He shrugged a little. Sam checked in with him almost daily, and if he didn't, Bucky checked in with Sam.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve was immediately relieved and then he felt bad about it. He squeezed Bucky, opening his hand against Bucky’s chest to rub it.

"I’m sorry," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "That I’m not there for you."

[endsinafight]

The hand against his chest was comforting, soothing like a cool balm against a sunburn. He breathed in and out slowly, giving himself a moment to respond to that.

"You are. Right now. And other you -- it's just different. It's okay."