This was my first Stucky fanfic. Aah, memories... :)

He was lost.

He had meant to buy a present for Steve, but the different stores led him away from the streets he had memorized, away from the shops he knew. Now, he was lost. When he was young, growing up here, he knew these places like the back of his hand. Now, near eighty years later, he was completely and hopelessly turned around, the city an old friend grown hostile.

Bucky wanted Steve. Steve made everything better. Steve had shown him around the city, explained the beauty of things like the Internet and modern transportation. Bucky knew he was supposed to flag down a taxi, but he didn't have any money. He didn't like to carry it around. Once, when he did, someone had tried to take the money. Everything had gone red, and then Steve had been there, pulling him off the figure that he saw, to his horror, was a teenager.

Bucky went into an alleyway, trying to stop shivering. Ever since he had been frozen for months, years at a time in suspended animation courtesy of Hydra, he had loathed the cold. Now, in NYC on Christmas Eve, without a phone or money, he was abandoned in the cold he hated so much.

Curling up against the cold brick, Bucky wrapped his arms around himself. His metal arm was much colder than the rest of his body and instead of helping to preserve his body heat, sucked it out of him at an attempt to warm itself.

As his shivering got worse and he began to lose feeling in his fingers and toes, Bucky began to slip into the past, something that had been happening more and more frequently with alarming results.

"Please don't do it, please don't do it, no!" a woman screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Mommy? Mommy, who is that? Mommy!" a little boy wailed, starting to sob.

"If you touch my family, I will kill you. I will-" A man's voice sputtered short as a gunshot rang and his wife screamed, clutching their teenage daughter.

A dog snarled and nipped at his ankles. He kicked it ruthlessly out of his way and he heard a bone in its body snap with an accompanying howl.

"Make it stop," he moaned into his thin, insufficient coat. "Make the cold stop, Steve."

A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see a familiar face, grinning with relief and joy down at him.

"God, Bucky, you scared me so bad! Buck...?" Steve trailed off as he saw how bad Bucky's condition was. Frowning with worry, he hauled his best friend to his feet and gripped him close. "It's okay, Bucky. It's okay."

"I killed so many people, Steve," Bucky whispered, trying to hold it together. "So many."

"It wasn't your fault. You're a hero, Bucky, for surviving that. For coming back for me."

They both knew it had been Steve who rescued Bucky from a life of crime, but they both kept this fact to themselves. Bucky wanted to believe the healing, reassuring words. He really did.

"Let's go home," Steve murmured into his ear. He retracted himself from Bucky's arms and took hold of his flesh hand, gripping it tightly through his mitten. Warmth began to seep back into Bucky's hand. He smiled gratefully at Steve, taking a deep breath.

"How did you find me?" Bucky asked as Steve expertly navigated through the streets, keeping him close.

"I was worried when I came home and you weren't there, so I went looking for you. I figured you wouldn't go too far out of what you know. I've been searching for a half hour."

"Thank you," Bucky murmured. "Flashbacks..."

Steve knew exactly what he meant and squeezed his hand again.

The apartment building lobby was deliciously warm. Bucky stood still for a moment, drinking in the warmth, before Steve pulled him over to the elevator. They hopped in and were quickly up to their apartment.

"Why don't you get into bed, you're freezing," Steve called over his shoulder as he released Bucky and headed for their tiny kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

"You'll see!"

Bucky shrugged and headed for the single bedroom in the apartment. On his bedside table lay the book he was reading. He hadn't been huge on reading before and during the war, but now he found it relieving to immerse himself in another world instead of the nightmares he faced on a daily basis.

Steve soon came back with two mugs of hot chocolate. Bucky accepted his and took a sip. He felt the burning liquid travel down his frigid innards. "Thanks," he said, taking eager gulps.

Steve settled in next to him, sliding under the covers and opening his book. They read quietly for a little bit. Finally, Bucky set aside his hot chocolate and book. "I'm going to sleep," he told Steve, yawning.

"Me, too," Steve said, immediately placing his bookmark in his book. He always joked about Bucky's barbaric habit of dog-earing his books, and said he considered himself quite more refined.

Bucky reached over and turned off the lamp. "Night."

"Night."

They both settled in. The cold wasn't completely gone from Bucky's body, however, and he began shivering again. He felt off, as if something crucial simply wasn't there.

Probably feeling the shivering, Steve scooted closer to Bucky. Bucky moved to press himself against Steve's warm back and sighed.

All was right with the world. He would get through this hellish phase of his life, as long as Steve was with him.