It was a cool and overcast afternoon in 1945. It had been a very rainy start to the month of May, but that did nothing to dampen Steve Rogers's spirits. The war in Europe had ended on the eighth following the suicide of Adolf Hitler, and to Steve that could only mean one thing―his soldier was coming home. He took a deep breath of his inhaler and a few pills for his heart problems and proceeded to stare out of his kitchen window. He had been eagerly waiting for James's return all day, and he checked the front door about as often as twenty minute intervals. He hadn't seen him in so long and despite his best efforts, which included lying on all of his Particulars, his health concerns had kept him as far as from the war effort as physically possible. He had worked his ass off though in his friend's three year absence to make up for both halves of their rent and still managed to somehow keep it spotless so James would have something nice to come home to. He even had a pot of macaroni and cheese cooking on the stove, which had always been Buck's favorite of all Steve's home cooked meals.

The clock stuck five and the food was ready, and Steve was more than a little disheartened that he was still alone at this hour. Not wanting the dish to burn, he walked from where he was making tea to turn the stove off. He lifted the lid off of the pot and a rush of steam filled his fragile lungs, causing yet another coughing episode in spite of his recent use of his inhaler. Breathe, Steve, this is ridiculous. He said to himself, gripping the edge of the counter in an attempt at forcing some fresh air into his body. Just when he seemed to be getting a hold of himself he gasped harshly at the surprise of thick, muscular arms wrapping around his waist, throwing him right back into his fit. Steve felt the body behind him chuckle.

"I'm sorry, Stevie. I didn't mean to startle you." Steve recognized that voice anywhere and turned around quickly to face him.

"Bucky!" Tears filled Steve's eyes and gently trickled down his cheeks as he crushed his lips against the soldier's, running his hands down the chiseled chest that he had missed so much. Their tongues collided slowly, intimately dancing with one another as they became reacquainted. Bucky wove his fingers into Steve's hair and shushed him tenderly as they pulled away.

"Now don't you go crying on me, it's only gonna make that cough worse." Bucky cupped Steve's face and held it firmly, gazing into those liquid pools that he had dreamed about every night since the day he was deployed. Steve composed himself and gestured awkwardly to the pot.

"I made your favorite." Bucky pecked him on the lips once more and got some bowls down from the cabinets.

"I know you did." Steve hovered, of course, fretting around Bucky as he scooped the mac and cheese into the bowls.

"Hey, I was supposed to be making that for you not the other way around." Bucky laughed and sat the food on their dining room table, pulling a chair out for Steve.

"You did make it for me, I just served it. Looks delicious by the way." They sat to eat and Steve looked down at his small hands, so curious about how his loves life had been since they'd last spoken, though he didn't really want to come out and ask 'how was the horrible blood bath you've been away at for three years?'

"I've missed you so much. Are you alright?" He asked instead, taking a big bite of cheesy goodness. Bucky shrugged, a sassy smirk on his lips as he watched his counterpart.

"I know that's your sneaky little way of asking me how the war was, Steve, I'm not stupid. I am fine, though I was nearly killed during the summer of '43 after being held captive for a little while, goddamn army left us there to rot for I don't know how long before we were ever rescued." That hadn't been what Steve had wanted to hear, though he didn't know what he had expected. The smaller man grew quiet and James reached over to take and hold his hand.

"Hey, look at me. I'm fine, I'm here alive and breathing aren't I? Someone had to come back here and make sure the hot mess I call a boyfriend hadn't gotten into trouble, now didn't they?" Steve laughed and squeezed his hand, a Cheshire cat grin consuming his features.

"I'm always in trouble." Bucky snorted.

"Isn't that the truth."

*2012*

Colonel Nick Fury was rummaging through SHIELD archives bright and early that Tuesday morning. He was looking for a file in the S's, and strangely enough it was nearly empty. The file he was looking for was there, but never mind that. Where was the largest file that belonged to that category? He searched in the M and H categories before cursing under his breath. Howard and Maria Stark's file was missing. Nick didn't know what was going on, but he knew if a certain Tony caught wind that his parents paperwork was missing the entire agency would be in a shitload of trouble. Director Fury walked swiftly down a long corridor to Agent Coulson's working area and knocked on the door.

"Come in." Came a voice from within the room. Nick entered and sat down quickly, making sure he shut the door back securely behind him.

"We have a problem, Phil. Howard and Maria Stark's SHIELD file is completely gone, all of it. From the Winter Solider causing their car crash all the way to Tony Stark's adoption, it's all gone. Tony is going to flip if we don't figure out who took it and why." Phil stared blankly at his friend.

"What on earth are you talking about? Howard and Maria didn't die in a car crash." Fury looked at Coulson like he had his other eye somewhere on his face.

"Are you mother fucking serious? Maria and Howard's death was the biggest, most devastating news of this decade and you're going to sit here and tell me you don't know how they died?" Coulson slowly picked up his walkie without breaking eye contact with Fury, radioing in for the on staff medical assistant.

"Nick, I hate to send you off to see the nurse, but you aren't acting like yourself. Obadiah Stane murdered the Starks in 1991, why would we have that on file? It had nothing to do with our line of work." Fury shook his head in disbelief.

"And I suppose you'll tell me you don't know about the Winter Solider either? You're the Captain's biggest fanboy, Phil, I know you do." No signs of recognition crossed the Agents face.

"Captain who?"

"Unbelievable!" The Director got up and stormed out furiously, marching right back down to their filing system and digging for both Bucky and Steve's files. Nada. Something was not right, he felt like he was losing his mind. He flipped open his phone to scroll through his contacts and sure enough, Steve's number had been erased. Something fishy was going on, and he was going to have to get to the bottom of it fast.

*1945*

It wasn't until after dinner that things started to feel like home again. Bucky took off his uniform for the very last time and had slipped into something more comfortable. Steve turned on the radio to Bucky's favorite station and the couple curled up on their beat up old couch. It felt so nice to be enveloped in Bucky's arms again. For a good while Steve had feared life would never be like this again, and the little things like this had become almost sacred. He looked up from where his head had been resting on Bucky's chest, lifting his fingers to playfully finger James's stubble.

"I love you." A small, loving smile crossed Buck's lips and he bent down to kiss Steve's head, his arms wrapping around him tighter as he breathed in his partners natural scent of lavender and vanilla. Steve's tiny body fit in his lap so easily, it felt wonderful to have this sort of contact again. James had felt so down and so lonely during the war…there was nothing like this…like his home, his Stevie. They stayed like that for several moments, unmoving, content. They could have gone uninterrupted like that for hours probably, had Steve not accidentally moved his elbow a certain way against Bucky's chest. The solider winced, letting out a small groan of pain that he hoped Steve wouldn't notice. Of course, he did.

"What's wrong?" James shrugged it off and told him it was nothing, but he knew that face…Steve wasn't letting go of it until he told him what was hurting him.

"James Buchanan Barnes." Bucky chuckled and rolled his ocean colored eyes.

"Okay, fine. Get up and I'll show you." Steve pouted slightly at having to vacate Bucky's lap, but he was eager to find the source of his boyfriend's pain and hopefully mend it. Steve's mother had been a nurse, he knew a little more than basic first aid. Bucky lifted his shirt up to reveal what could only be described as a bullet wound in his side and Steve's eyes widened in horror.

"Don't look at me like that, Steven. It's mostly healed, they wouldn't have let me come home like this if I was in any danger of dying or something. It's just a little sore." Steve didn't look so sure so Bucky sighed and gently peeled the bandage off.

"See?" The wound itself was closed and new skin had healed up around it, but it was bruised horribly and crusted with dried blood. Steve leaned in and carefully, without applying a single ounce of pressure, kissed the wound. When he stood again he pulled Bucky's shirt off over his head and pointed toward their bathroom.

"Walk. Now." Bucky laughed and put his hand up next to his head in a salute.

"Aye, aye, captain." He walked with Steve to their tiny bathroom and allowed the other man to lock the door behind them, reaching down to fill the tub up and rummaging around for a washcloth.

"Is this necessary?" Steve didn't reply, pointing toward the bath and looking expectantly at Bucky's pants with a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Can't bathe in those now can you?" Bucky obediently removed his pants and underwear, stepping forward to happily tear Steve's own baggy shirt off. He kissed Steve's chest softly before removing the rest of his friend's clothes. The water was hot and bubbly and it felt wonderful against Bucky's incredibly tired skin as he stepped in to it. He extended his hand for Steve to take and soon they were both facing each other, legs locked around one another's waists tightly as they started to relax. Steve rubbed some honey autumn apple scented soap onto the washcloth and delicately pressed it against Bucky's wound.

"Please tell me if I hurt you." Bucky stared intimately into Steve's eyes, reaching out to caress the side of his face.

"You could never hurt me." Steve smiled, gently washing away the blood that had likely been stuck to Bucky's skin since the last time the wound was packed. It hurt a little bit, but Bucky would never say so, he enjoyed the closeness too much and the doting that Steve always bestowed upon him when he was even slightly hurt.

"There, all clean." Steve was obviously very pleased with himself, and Bucky had to admit, the shot did look a lot better now. He pulled Steve forward and crushed their lips together, moaning into his mouth and pulling away to kiss his jawline and neck. Steve laughed and nuzzled into James's neck, blushing at the gesture and wrapping his arms around Buck's neck. He held them there, not wanting to ever let him ago ever ever again. Bucky pulled away only slightly, cradling Steve's face with his hands and gazing at him with all the love in the world. He had only one promise to give him, and it was one he meant with all his heart, intending to uphold it until the day he died.

"I will never leave you again."