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[bottledblond]

Not every universe in the far and wide cosmos is as lucky (however unlucky itself that seems) to encounter Thanos during a time where people live who can do something about it. Steve Rogers, a particular version of Steve Rogers who had only just suffered through his first night of basic training in New Jersey as part of the Army’s Project Rebirth and thus had not yet become Captain America, bent to untie his shoes and saw his hands begin to disintegrate. He doesn’t panic, panicking is for people who do not live like every breath is their last. Instead, he blinks in surprise as the barracks fill with shouting. He has time to contemplate two things. One, he wishes he’d done more with his life. And two, he hopes Bucky will do all right.

He’s still thinking about that last issue when he exhales his last in a universe where Captain America never existed and finishes it bent over in the ruins of the barracks, roof half open to the sky and walls a burnt and ashy gray.

It takes him an hour to get to the road and by then, his asthma is already getting the best of him. He blacks out for the second time ‘that day’ and wakes up staring at the ceiling of what is obviously a hospital.

It just doesn’t sound or smell like a hospital. Sure. People are running around and yelling, but it smells painfully clean, artificially so, and there are machines he’s never seen before connected by wires to his body. He does the thing people should never do and yanks them loose. The machines squawk strangely and frantically and Steve is almost out of bed when two large men in green pajamas force him back.

Nothing makes sense to him for days. People come to talk to him, to find out who he is and who his family is. Evidently Steve Rogers is a popular name, because they bring in more people to talk to him, to ask him questions about his life, but no one has any answers.

He explodes, as he’s wont to do when frustrated, demands answers, but nothing they say makes sense.

By then, the war is over. Not World War II, which has evidently been over for over half a century, but this new war. And Bucky Barnes had been told of his presence. Steve is in bed, arms crossed, looking dour and getting an infusion of something that honestly is helping him breathe better when Bucky bursts into his now private room. It’s been two months

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[bottledblond]

That is not what Steve meant. He meant to say that Bucky and the other Steve were Avengers. Not....

Steve still holds onto the bottom of Bucky’s shirt, tugging it further than it needs to go. Today has been too much already. His mind is too full. The world has changed too far.

“I uh... what, he didn’t want you to be an Avenger too?” He’s giving Bucky an out here because.... Because shit.

Shit.

Steve knows very well that no version of him could ever not feel that way for his best friend.

[woundedwinter]

He really needs to stop talking. But Sam also govts him hell for staring so he's pretty much screwed in either regard.

"I think Steve, the other one, wanted me to have some peace in Wakanda. But he was also pretty straight so.." he shrugs. "But it's okay." It was okay. Bucky could love him from a distance. It was all he'd ever had.

"I'm just glad you're here." He shucks his own shirt and heads to the bedroom to find something to wear after his own shower.

[bottledblond]

Is straight the same as square? Steve just looks partially confused as he nods. Bucky’s definitely spilling a whole lot of information that Steve doesn’t really understand. It’s a lot to keep straight in his own mind, but the thought that the other Steve wanted to get rid of Bucky in another country is horrifying.

Why? Because he was brainwashed? Maybe because he didn’t want to see him with Shuri? Steve had known that he’d always lose Bucky to some girl but actually seeing him happy with one had to have hurt.

Steve understands that feeling.

He sets up some sheets found in a closet on the bed in Bucky’s unused room after he heads to the shower and is about to settle back on the sofa with his sketchbook when there’s a knock at the door.

“Bucky, it’s me,” comes a voice that Steve is familiar with. He has to stand on his toes to see out of the peephole but recognizes Sam. It should be all right to let him in. He’s all smiles and Sam smiles. “Bucky’s indisposed. I’m sure he’ll be happy you’re here.”

“Not the Bucky I know,” Sam replies, smirking. They talk about how Steve is settling in and once the water’s off, Bucky will know that his best with the younger version of his best friend has been breached.

[woundedwinter]

Oh he's gonna kill him for this.

Maybe not literally but the principle still stands. He has to take a moment to claw down any instinct that demands Steve is his, that Sam can't have him, before he pulls on clothes and makes his way into the living room.

He won't consider his knives in the kitchen. At least not yet.

"Just make yourself at home why don't you?"

Dick.

[bottledblond]

“Thanks, already did. Your roomie even got me a beer. That’s hospitality, Bucky. And manners.” Sam has this shit eating sort of grin, obviously enjoying himself at Bucky’s expense. It causes Steve in his much too long shirt and cuffed pants to look between the two. He knew Bucky said he wasn’t best friends with Sam, but... he’d never seen Bucky show animosity towards anyone else.

That was usually Steve’s way of being.

“Sam just came to check on me. I was telling him about the hamburgers and that you showed me pictures with you and long hair.”

“Took real good care of it too. He was real proud,” Sam teases and Steve’s eyes light up.

“You should have kept it!”

[woundedwinter]

Bucky grumbles but it should be clear with Sam in his space that he's not legitimately angry with him or unhappy that he's in his space. It's more of a friendly animosity, if such a thing exists.

"Yeah, well he was always the one with manners, not me."

Bucky rubs a hand along his hair. "I couldn't. It was too much a part of who I was. Not who I am." Never mind that it took months before he was able to let someone that close to his face with scissors.

[bottledblond]

“I never had manner. You were always cleaning up my messes,” Steve shoots back before he grins at Sam. “Honestly, this guy could charm his way into or out of anything. We got a lot of free pies and nickel candies out of his doe eyes!”

“Doe eyes?” Sam says, looking skeptical. “This guy? No way people found him charming.”

Steve might have carried on with the teasing but Bucky’s explanation about his hair makes Steve feel bad for bringing it up. He’s walking on eggshells part of their time together and it’s not Bucky’s fault. It’s his own inability to understand what went on.

In time, he hopes to change that.

“Sorry,” he says, genuinely. “It’s not a bad haircut. Mine must look so old fashioned.”

[woundedwinter]

Honestly he could have done with a little more time before sharing Steve (again) with someone else. It's easier given that it's Sam but Bucky will never ever give him the satisfaction.

"Don't worry about it, pal. I'm okay. It just took some time." Because that had been one of the first of many hurdles in his attempts to reclaim who he was.

As for Sam he narrows his eyes at him. "Yeah well not all of us can get by with a grin like you do."

[bottledblond]

“I truly was blessed,” Sam says, knowing full well that Bucky is going to be a possessive asshole with Steve and that’s not something either man needs right now. Steve is still fresh here and Bucky is broken. Sam’s seen it all before and he doesn’t want to have to do something drastic later.

That’s why he’s here. To create some boundaries.

“Either of you eat dinner? Or was it just the burgers?”

“Just the burgers but I’m not sure I could eat again.” How odd, to have so many meals in a day.

“We could order in,” Sam says. “Chinese?”

Steve looks skeptical and then glances at the scowl on Bucky’s face. “I might just turn in. It’s been a weird, long day,” he says.

[woundedwinter]

"Chinese is fine." Every instinct he has is screaming to get Sam away, to keep Steve for himself but after months of intensive therapy he knows that's not good for either of them. He can't hide Steve away from the world, even if he wants to. That's not his decision to make.

So he forces his shoulders down and makes himself relax.

"If you don't wanna stay up that's fine Stevie." He can always use his bedroom while Sam mother hens him half to death.

[bottledblond]

“Thanks. Sorry Sam. I’ve had a lot of beer today.” He excuses himself, shutting the bedroom door with a click.

Sam is already prepared for Bucky to turn towards him and he arches an eyebrow. “Up to the roof? Your door soundproof?”

Yeah. They’re talking about Steve.

[woundedwinter]

Oh that's good. Because he really wants to do this again. So he taps on the door. "We'll be up on the roof if you need anything."

Bucky doesn't want to leave Steve alone, even for a moment, but he knows he'll have to. So he resigns himself to a conversation he really doesn't want to have and follows Sam to the roof.

.. it's a shame he doesn't have his wings. He could always drop kick him off if he became too much of a hassle.

[bottledblond]

Sam is gentle. There’s no questions and no accusations. And no standing too close to the edge of the roof because he isn’t wearing his wings and Bucky might drop kick him off the ledge if he’s not careful.

“This is why you should answer your phone,” Sam says, hands in his pockets. “Tried to tell you he came back along with everyone else. Sort of. You know we have people from centuries ago? Working theory is that Thanos or someone like him popped up across all sorts of timelines. We’re the only one that managed to reverse it. I know you’ve got Steve to think of, but we need you.”

[woundedwinter]

There's a reason Sam is the only one Bucky responds to, even if it's only now and then. Sam understands loss. Sam understands what it meant to lose someone like Steve.

He blows out a breath and shoves his hands on his pockets, a show that he's not a threat. At least not this time.

"I can't." It's a weakness and he hates to even say it but he still manages.

"Not yet. I'm not.. I'm not ready." Ninety years of running from one fight to another and he needs time to breathe. He needs to find out who he is away from war.

"I can't Sam."

[bottledblond]

“You can. I need you to do this with me. There’s no one else.” He gives Bucky a Look that he knows won’t do anything. “Tony Stark is gone. Banner is gone. Vision. Romanoff— We’re running pretty short on teammates.”

But Bucky’s probably not going to be willing to leave. Not with Steve here.

“If we can figure out what’s going on, we can get our Steve back and put this one where he belongs. They all need to go to where they were. Not here.”

[woundedwinter]

Anger boils up unexpectedly and it takes a monumental amount of control for him to not lash out. "No. No you're not taking him back."

He can't take him away.

"He's just getting settled! You can't just kick him back into the past."

His breathing is fast and erratic and he's inches away from a full blown panic attack, but the idea of living life without this Steve is too much.

It's overwhelming.

"You can't.. don't.. I can't.."

He drops to his knees because if he curls in on himself he won't lash out, he won't hurt Sam. He can't. "Sam please."

[bottledblond]

Sam is completely taken aback by Bucky’s attitude. “He doesn’t belong here,” Sam says, frowning. He doesn’t even know how to take this. “We have a friend who does.”

He rolls his eyes and crouches down beside Bucky before he goes into a full attack.

“Come on, man.”

[woundedwinter]

So much has been taken away from him, every instinct is screaming to fight for this, for a Steve that doesn't look at him like a wounded animal. Naturally when he wants to keep something he's faced with having to lose it.

"His choice," he finally grates out, forcing himself to settle his breathing even though he's a riot of tension.

"Not yours. Not mine. His."

[bottledblond]

“Woah, hey!”

The voice is familiar enough for Sam to stand up immediately, as if expecting someone other than the man in the doorway leading to the stairwell to be standing there.

Steve, in oversized clothing, rushes over to his best friend and put himself between Bucky and Sam. He hadn’t heard most of the conversation. “Hey, whatever you’re doing, leave him alone.”

There’s no connection there for Steve with Sam but Bucky is still Bucky. And he’s going to protect him.

“Hey. Sorry man. Wasn’t my intention to upset anyone,” Sam says.

“Okay, well I think you should still go,” Steve says, turning to offer a hand to Bucky to help him up. “It’s pretty late.”

[woundedwinter]

His hand fits into Steve's as easy as it ever did and Bucky uses it to lever himself up.

"I'll call you tomorrow Sam." He can't have this conversation, not yet. Steve has to make the decision. They both had so much taken, had so many people make decisions for them, he can't make this call without Steve's permission.

There's an awkward farewell before they go back down to his apartment. Bucky is too keyed up to even consider sleep, but he knows Steve might not feel the same.

"Sam means well, he does. But there are some things we gotta talk about." The words feel like ash on his tongue but he forces them out all the same.

[bottledblond]

Steve just looks exhausted and a little sad. He doesn’t know what any of this is about but he can guess. They need the other him. The one with the muscles. Now that he’s out of the hospital, no longer tucked away, it’s become more and more obvious to the group that they can’t use him.

Steve is use to feeling worthless but he’s never let himself believe it.

That said, he really doesn’t belong here in this magical future of good medicine and clean cars and a global source of food. Where people like him might find happiness instead of settling for whatever girl will have him.

“Okay. Okay, we can talk. Tomorrow night. I just want one day uninterrupted where we’re together again.” Because his Bucky is at war. Maybe he won’t make it. Maybe no Steve filled his dusted shoes. Or maybe Steve showed back up five years in his future and Bucky is lost.

He needs this.

[woundedwinter]

"Tomorrow," he agrees because he's just as exhausted and Bucky steers them towards his bedroom. He might not sleep a wink tonight but whatever he does he wants to do it closer to Steve.

He needs this as much as Steve does.

It's stupid and selfish but he doesn't want to let him go. The world wants Captain America. The world never knew Steve Rogers and Bucky will always hate the world a little for that. They want their symbol back and all Bucky wants is his best friend. The guy he.. well. The guy he loves.

He drops into bed with him, trying not to grimace at how soft the mattress is. "C'mon. Let's get some sleep."

In the morning he'll snap his phone in two. They need a day alone. Just the two of them.

[bottledblond]

Sharing a bed is... well, it’s fine. It’s just so odd. Steve caws into bed with the other man, keeping his back to Bucky. He’ll lay still until he finds sleep again, feeling warmer and safer with Bucky scowling up at the ceiling behind him.

It doesn’t take too long before Steve scoots back in bed until his backside hits Bucky’s hip or though. Touching him, he lets out a dreaming sigh.

This is better than the hospital.

[woundedwinter]

He can't give this up. He's not strong enough to do it. If Steve tells him he wants to go, he'll let him go, but that's because he's never been able to tell him no. Even if it would break him all over again.

Bucky stops scowling at the ceiling as Steve moves closer and he focuses on listening to his breathing. Steve is warm and safe and healthy here. It's all he ever wanted for him, before war changed them both.

So he closes his eyes and breathes with him. Maybe he'll even sleep a little.

[bottledblond]

It’s well after dawn when Steve wakes. He might have had a nap but it had been a long and stressful day tans he’d needed his sleep. He comes out of it like an octopus, rolling and shifting around until he finds his cheek pressing against Bucky’s armpit and his body flush against the other’s.

He opens one eye to gauge the landscape, but Bucky isn’t moving and Steve doesn’t appear to have been caught, so he carefully shifts one of his arms over Bucky’s middle. Slowly. Carefully.

Maybe he can get away with it for a minute or two before he gets out of bed to use the bathroom and splash cold water on his face.

He needs it.