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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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[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.

[woundedwinter]

Bucky doesn't move until he hears the bathroom door click shut. He shifts and rolls, burying his face in Steve's pillow and breathing deep.

Steve will find him in the kitchen making coffee, a simple leather journal and pencil beside him. Wouldn't the Doc be proud that he's actually, finally using the stupid thing?

Sam was wrong. But so was he.

He looks up, "Hey pal. Coffee's on, there's milk in the fridge if you want some."

[bottledblond]

"My hero," Steve teases, sleep shirt tucked into sweatpants around the back. He hasn't put his contacts in yet, so he happily indulges in some age old eye rubbing and obnoxious yawning before he stands by something that is decidedly not the percolator he's used to.

Steve taps his thumbs on the counter, inhaling the rich aroma of coffee and watching it drip into the pot, eyes narrowing slightly to reduce the general blurriness.

"Where's the best way to get a crash course on the last seventy years?" Steve asks, still watching the drip. He has no idea of museums exist anymore."

[woundedwinter]

"Oh, right." Bucky gets up, closing the journal and going to one of the shelves that isn't completely empty. "I bought these the day I was pardoned."

A stack of books published by the Smithsonian on American and world history, science and even space. "I know most of it's online but I still like to hold a real book and turn the pages."

There are a few notes on the pages here and there in the history books, old memories bubbling up from his past. Corrected dates, circled faces.

"Not the biggest on detail but they hit the high points."

[bottledblond]

Steve didn't really want to spend a whole lot of today reading, but over breakfast, it would be a good idea to at least get a grip on what happened without asking Bucky to bring up bad memories.

He excuses himself to the bathroom to get his contacts in and returns to sit at the small table and go through the table of contents of the books so he could spot read.

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Steve says, turning one of his sketch books into a notebook, somewhat similar to Bucky's, "but have you learned to make flapjacks decently yet?"

[woundedwinter]

The question pulls a surprised laugh out of him and Bucky pushes to his feet, "Real subtle, punk. Yeah, I'll make breakfast while you read." He squeezes his shoulder as he starts turning pages.

Bacon, flapjacks and coffee. It's not a bad way to start the morning and when he glances over at Steve it makes him smile.

[bottledblond]

Steve's writing is neat and small, making the most of the page as he'd always had. He's interested about the end of the war more than he is about the three years leading up to it mostly because he finds himself less than interested in reading about himself.

After he notes that Captain America had dropped the plane in the water, the history becomes a lot more interesting.

Skimming the highlights of the Civil Rights Movement, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War, Steve makes quite a few notes on what to read up on later. He skips most of the eighties and nineties and picks back up again with the Battle For New York.

By then, Bucky's got some breakfast in front of him and Steve has a wide-eyed look on his face. "You... I thought you were making the alien stuff up. Wow." The first book seems to end with the Chitauri invasion, and that was evidently ten years before now. "I'm almost afraid to know what happened after that because the craziness seems to just ramp up as we go! Thanks, pal. These smell edible," he chides with a grin.

[woundedwinter]

"Still a punk," he mutters fondly before going to get his own plate. "Yeah it got a lot weirder after that. More aliens, a killer robot army, magic," he ticks them off on his fingers, "and the whole killer alien who wiped out half the universe."

"Things were a hell of a lot easier when we were just a couple of dumb kids running around the city."

Sure the advances in medicine and technology were great and he wouldn't change them for the world, but he can indulge in a little nostalgia.

[bottledblond]

"I don't know about that," Steve says, shutting his books so that he can get started on breakfast. Bucky has never been a bad cook, but no one can compare to either of their mothers. Or so Steve thought before getting a mouthful of the fluffy flapjacks Bucky had so carefully made for him.

He pauses, looking at the now older man with a weird sort of amusement.

"So you're officially cleared for housewife duty," Steve says. It will take some time for him to tone down that sort of old rhetoric, as he conforms to the better side of society. "I would marry you myself."

He finishes the first bite with coffee before going for another.

"Which... I guess is legal now. That's amazing. The progress this country has made is truly awesome."