originally posted at AO3 - 6/7/2012
Captain America is a good man: this is what you are told. Captain America stands for truth, and justice, and traditional values. Captain America died talking to his sweetheart, and Captain America lives in the hearts of heroes.
Steve Rogers is not a good man.
.
You are sixteen, and Bucky is seventeen and you think that he is so much wiser than you, so much more knowledgeable. Bucky is seventeen and you are sixteen and both of you are stupid, and you know this now. You watch him too long, and you touch him too long, and it's not long enough. And when he presses you into the sheets at night, bodies closer together than they should be, it's still not long enough.
.
"This is my friend Steve," he says, and you smile at the dame who smiles at Bucky.
You are his friend, and you hold that close to you, because it's all you're ever going to get. You love Bucky as if he is a part of you that you can never let go, as if he is your arm, or your leg, or your heart; your mother loved Bucky too, loved him like a son, and hell if that isn't the most messed up thing you've ever realised.
.
Captain America loves Peggy, this much is true. Steve can relate to Peggy, but both of them know the truth. This is the deepest secret that nobody knows, this is the deepest secret that nobody can know.
There are different types of truth. There are different types of love.
.
"This is a war, Steve," Bucky says, always saying, always reminding. As if you would forget between bombs, as if you would forget the battles that he scratches into your skin. "This is a war."
You are all of you at war with something.
.
Peggy smiles at you and kisses you, and you close your eyes, and imagine Brooklyn, imagine a broken down flat with broken down people, imagine a broken down life that you will never see again. Peggy kisses you, and wishes you luck - as if you need it, as if you don't know that you won't be coming back from this. There is nothing for you to come back to.
That is a lie.
There is a life for you to come back to, where you will marry Peggy and will remain Captain America. Where you will see yourself celebrated as a hero, even as you think no, even as you stay silent at night and pretend that there are hard lines beneath you instead of soft curves.
.
The water fills you up, your bones and your lungs; weighs down your uniform until you cannot move under the pressure. It is cold. You miss Brooklyn for a moment, until you miss nothing at all.
.
New York is warm, but you cannot shake the cold, and you are surrounded by agents, but you cannot shake the loneliness of being here, while Bucky is not.
You draw a hand, a foot, the curve of a back. You draw a smile once, and eyes again and again, but you never draw a face.
.