Stand-alone or sequel to 'It's The Cold I Fear'.

"So, this is the place?"

An echo of Steve's voice sounds in James' head as he stares across the street at a relatively new coffee shop.

"It may not be much, but it has two bedrooms and working pluming, what more could we need?"

His metal hand flexed underneath the glove as his own voice, more carefree then it is now, answered the first.

The coffee shop had been recently renovated, the windows still had some tape on them from installation, but the door was definitely original, as was the roof.

James should know.

"Dang it, Steve, does everything have to turn into a fight with you?"

"I had 'im on the ropes, Buck."

"Could ya 'have 'im on the ropes' somewhere not right next to where we live at three in the morning?"

The place was packed with all sorts of people, young and old, colorful and bland, comfortable in a way that spoke of familiarity with the place - familiarity that he remembers having.

Now, he just feels lost.

"What if I die, Buck?"

"You're not dying, Steve."

"I'm sick."

"You're not going to die."

"But I could."

"But you're not."

He took a deep breath, watching a kid laugh while eating some kinda cake on the patio, squealing when his sister tries to smear icing on his face.

"You sure you know what you're doing, Bucky?"

"When have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Well-"

"Besides, I've been watchin' Ma do it for years; I know how to make hot chocolate."

"You're not your Ma, Bucky."

He blinked.

"You might wanna make yourself scarce tonight, Stevie. I've got a date, if you know what I mean."

Then again.

"Remind me why I put up with you?"

"Because without me you'd end up dead on the pavement? That's if a strong wind doesn't knock ya over first."

And again.

"Jerk."

"Punk."

"Bucky?"

James jerked, head turning to look at a nervous, slightly panicky, Steve.

James did his best to relax at the new arrival, this was what he wanted, why he'd come here in the first place, though he doubted he was doing a good job of relaxing judging by Steve's face.

He wanted to say something to ease the friend he was starting to remember, something like 'hi, Stevie' or 'hey, punk' or even 'nice sidekick,' in reference to the weird bird guy watching from a few rooftops over, but-

-A quiet, "It's gone." Is all that comes out.

Steve flinches, then sighs. "Yeah, I know." He turns to look at the coffee shop "It was a shock to me when I found out, too."

"It's not fair, Stevie," James surprises himself by how easy it was to call someone he'd been assigned to kill by such familiarity. But then, Steve had apparently been his best friend "I'm tired, and confused, and-" his hands clinched tightly before falling limp, defeated "-and I just wanted to go home."

It would seem that was the final straw for Steve, who yanked the soldier to him and wrapped him in a tight hug.

James, Bucky, whatever, went willingly, burying his face in Steve's shoulder, "It's just not fair,"

"I know," Steve pulled him tighter, "but it'll get better, I promise, and I'll be right there with you. You don't have to go through this alone."

"I'm with ya, Steve,"

"'Till the end of the line."

A/N: So, this isn't part of my plans (unless you want it to be(?)) but I was inspired.

If anyone can guess where I got the title, then I will love you forever. You'll also get a prize (within reason) of your choice.

One-shot, OC cameo, first dibs on the next thing I write, spoilers, whatever.