It started when Steve came out.
"But Steve," Natasha's eyes were wider than they would ever be if she were serious. "What about our kiss?"
Bucky's eyes narrowed, entirely serious. "What kiss?"
"It was a lie," Steve said quickly.
Natasha made a little moue of discontent. "I thought you liked me."
"It was undercover!" Steve said too quickly. "Then, I mean, we were undercover. I mean—"
It would have been on Ellen, but she had retired the year before. Syndicated television should've died out decades ago, but there was a niche market, so it was still on life support. That market was mostly people who were dying out and/or on life support. Old people were confused by screens that did more than one thing. There were also the hipsters, who claimed linear television was a more authentic experience.
Daytime TV had always been a popular place to market test diversity before putting it on prime time. It had started with Oprah and Ellen, but like most things on TV, it had eventually become less about progress and more about profits
There was a chat show co-hosted by a woman with Tourette's and a deaf-mute man. There was a court show with a blind judge. A man with hemophilia hosted the American spinoff of a Japanese game show called Honor or with Death, which had been both highly controversial and widely viewed.
The only one that lasted more than a few seasons was a live daytime chat show called Wake Up With The Peacock.
The NBC chat show was hosted by Mary Richards. On screen, she was always giving people hugs or houses, and she was more likely to cry than any of her guests. Off screen, Steve actually liked her.
The set looked more like a living room than any living room Steve had ever seen. He, Mary, and Bucky were sitting on matching IKEA STRANDMON winged armchairs.
"We've got to get IKEA, because these chairs never last very long. Guests throw them. I throw them. They get covered with blood, snot, tears. Placenta."
"I remember that episode," said Tony.
"We won an Emmy." Mary smiled and her wrinkles grew wrinkles.
"Is that why you started confiscating chairs from your guests?" asked Tony. "I thought you were just punishing them for being rude."
Mary shrugged. "A little Type A, a little Type B."
"You could get plastic covers," said Steve.
"Oh, honey. And I thought I was old."
Behind them was a picture of the New York City skyline at night, even though the show was called Wake Up With Marry. Of course, it didn't air until 4:00 PM, but that was when Bucky usually woke up. Steve could see the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and Central Parking. The view was obviously Photoshopped. The green roof of Central Parking had finally been paved over to make room for more cars.
"It wasn't Don't Ask Don't Tell," said Steve. "It was Don't Ask, Don't Even Think About It, because if you thought about it then you would be left with two options. You don't get what you want, or you get what you want, but you also get ostracized, beaten, maybe murdered. Brooklyn wasn't better than Berlin. It was just less organized."
"I don't- don't deserve you."
"No, but you're stuck with me. Sorry buddy."
"Steve-"
"Bucky. Buck. Has anyone else been through what you have?"
"No, but-"
"Has anyone else failed to resist less?"
"...Yes."
"Do you think you're better than them?"
"Careful, his head might explode."
"He's not a robot, Tony."
"He's like ⅙ robot."
"It's different now," said Steve, "but it's hard to remember that it's different. It's hard to remember that I don't need to protect people when I see them holding hands in public. They still need protection, but not the same kind. Maybe if Captain America comes out now- Maybe that's another kind of protection. So yeah. I'm bisexual."
Bucky turned to face the cameras. "If you think this means you have a chance with him, remember I'm one of the world's deadliest assassins."
Steve gave him a soft smile, like he had just done something adorable.
"Thank god," said Sam. "Maybe now he'll stop jumping out of helicopters without a parachute."
"Jumping out of what?"
Steve held his hands up placatingly. "Now, Bucky—"
"Don't you, 'Now, Bucky' me. We've talked about this."
"Technically, we've talked about jumping out of airplanes."
"The aircraft is not the issue, Steve. You're the issue. Mogs told me about the goddamn grenade."
Steve managed to get even paler, even though he was already pretty much a mole person. "Peggy told you about that?"
"I was saving it, Steve!"
Bucky looked so distressed about saving his grenade lecture for seventy years that Steve gave him a hug.
"Never again. You hear me, Rogers?"
"Of course not," said Steve. "You're back."
Bucky buried his face in Steve's neck, if only to hide how red his face had gotten.
"Never again anyway," Bucky said, somewhat muffled by Steve's neck.
"Mmm," Steve said, entirely muffled by Bucky's hair.
"S'at a yes or a no?"
Steve spat out some hair. "Don't make me find out."
They started kissing, and Tony said, "So are all their conversations just going to end like this now?"
"I would have come out sooner, if only to piss of the Republicans, but I was too much of a coward. I wasn't afraid of what people would think, but… there would be questions, and the only answer would be Bucky Barnes. I was afraid of how much that would hurt. Then I got Bucky back, but he was so traumatized by his experiences with Hydra, that I could never put that kind of pressure on him. Especially not- not knowing what they did to him."
Bucky interjected again, ostensibly just to change the subject. "Stevie didn't mean to imply that everyone who doesn't come out is a coward. He's just bad with speeches that aren't about patriotism. Your safety comes first."
Steve nodded eagerly, looking for all the world like an oversized golden retriever.
"One day, Sam took me aside and told me that I had two options. I tell Bucky how I feel and face rejection, or I let him go on thinkin' I don't love him anymore. Sam said I just needed someone to put it in a way that would-"
"Trigger your gargantuan martyr complex," said Bucky.
Steve wrinkled his nose, which just made him look like an oversized pug instead. "It's bad enough when my phone finishes my sentences."
"Then quit being so damn predictable, Rogers."
"Turned out there was a third option this time."
"How long have you been together?" asked Mary.
"Sorta' for two months, but also sorta' since 1926," said Steve, who had never been very good with time, even before it stopped for seventy years.
"19-" Mary was clearly doing some mental calculations. "Weren't you eight?"
"Yeah, but Bucky was nine, and he was the one proposin'."
"I asked his Ma for permission first," said Bucky.
Steve gave him that smile again. "Buck's old fashioned like that."
"And what did your mother say?" asked Marry.
"Same thing she said every time we wanted to do something together. 'As soon as Stevie's feeling better.'" Steve leaned forward so he could look at Bucky over the wing of his armchair. "Hey, Buck?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm feeling better."
Bucky's mouth twisted into the closest he came to a smile these days. It was solely reserved for Steve. "Was that a question, Rogers?"
"Well, that's not what Ma gave us her permission for."
"Can't let Sarah down."
"Nope."
"You wanna' get hitched, Stevie?" asked Bucky, and Steve made a face.
"You gotta' quit it with all the train metaphors, Buck."
"S'at a yes, punk?"
"Yes, jerk." Steve seemed to have completely forgotten that he was on live TV. "So what kinda' flowers do you want at the wedding?"
Bucky made a thoughtful noise. "Well, my favorite flowers are forget-me-nots."
"You fucking menace." Steve had definitely forgotten that he was on life TV.
"Careful, Rogers, or they'll figure out Captain America was in the army."
Steve blushed. "Remind me why I like you."
Bucky gave him that almost-smile again. "I forgot."
"I would do anything for you."
"Doesn't that scare you?"
"No, Buck. I know you would never ask me to do anything I shouldn't."
"Hmph."
"Do you think I would ever ask you to do-"
"Jesus, Steve, yes, since you were six."