A/N: This is fic based around the nights Steve spends with Bucky. It's an AU in which Bucky got (some of) his memory back and has joined the Avengers. It's obviously Stucky but also some Clintasha and a little bit of Science Bros. Rated M for later chapters. Additionally, each chapter is going to be based around a song that I feel fits Stucky. I hope people enjoy the songs I pick, because this entire fiction will essentially be building a Stucky playlist. I've done enough talking, please read if you'd like!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these Marvel characters.
"I never said I'd lie and wait forever.
If I died, we'd be together.
I can't always just forget him.
But he could try.
At the end of the world,
Or the last thing I see
You are never coming home, never coming home.
Could I? Should I?
And all the things that you never, ever told me,
And all the smiles that are ever, ever..."
The dream always fades in with just the color red.
Steve obtains consciousness to find himself in a darkened room. The feeling of the soreness all over his body, and the tightness of his uniform is surreal. As he looks down to inspect it, he panics at the sight of the Swastika upon his chest where the star is meant to be. His stripes are stained with blood and he suddenly feels the itchy dryness of old blood upon his free skin. The only color he can discern is red.
He then hears the call of his name. A man calls out the name Steve; not Captain America, but Steve. He's aware this is a man he knows well, so he searches through the darkness. Suddenly a light appears: Bucky, surrounded by a circle of Nazi soldiers who are perpetually faceless. The only parts of their faces that are to be seen are their wicked grins. The grins of men who take pride in ending human life, and gaining power.
The Captain quickly rushes forward, toward Bucky. It's his job to save those in need, using the power he has been given, and yet no matter how fast he runs, his friend remains the same distance away, tied up in ropes. When he finally feels he's close enough, he begins to feel the rope burns around his own arms and chest. He can't move; he's tied tightly in the same rope that hold his dear friend taut. He curses himself; the Captain of America cannot even escape simple rope.
Finding that struggling is pointless, he looks up and suddenly Bucky is right in front of him. All at once the entire world bursts into brilliant colors: the cyan blue of Bucky's eyes, which are now blackened plum purple and blood red by the repeated fists that had been pounding down upon him; the soft dark brown of Bucky's hair, which is now matted down with the mahogany red of dried blood and the sandy brown of the dirt floor beneath them; and finally the soft pink of his skin, which was now streaked with blood and sweat. Steve's eyes welled with tears, for seeing someone he found to be so beautiful in so much pain was more heart wrenching than anything he has ever felt.
And to make the pain worse, Bucky coughs up a bit of blood, spitting it onto the dirt floor before speaking to the Captain, "Why didn't you catch me when I fell, Steve?" His voice thick with the sound of betrayal. Steve's eyes widen, and the color of this life begins to fade.
"Why didn't you save me? You could have caught me before I fell off that train. Now look at what you've done to me." Nazis begin to crowd Bucky, grabbing hold of his short brown hair. Another takes hold of Bucky's left shoulder, his grip so tight Steve hears the faint tear of fabric. All the while, the tortured Sergeant holds contact with his Captain.
"I thought we were in this together." Bucky swallows hard, restraining tears.
"Bucky," Steve pleads, not able to handle the words he knows are going to come next. He feels tears wash through the dried blood upon his cheek and he clenches his jaw, "Bucky, don't." His voice breaks.
"I thought you were with me till the end of the line."
All color is gone. Before Steve can think, he screams and launches his body towards Bucky's. Restrained by rope, he falls, his chin hitting the ground hard, but not before he hears the deafening crack of a shoulder being dislocated. Buck's screams echo through Steve's ears as he tries to focus on what he sees.
He hears himself calling Bucky's name, and yet Bucky is disappearing. Before the Captain's very eyes, the Sergeant's knees begin to sink through the ground, as if it were water. Steve struggles against the rope, as the horrific realization that he is letting Bucky die again hits him. Bucky's torso is through the ground now. Steve begs the enemy to release his rope and yet they are all gone. He never stops trying, but Bucky's neck is disappearing now, about to go under.
"Bucky, no!" Steve shouts. Suddenly everything freezes, and Bucky stops sinking. As Steve looks into his best friend's eyes, the blue color begins to return, "I can save you," he whispers.
"It's already too late." Bucky replies, quickly disappearing through the floor.
"...Ever get the feeling that you're never
All alone and I remember now
At the top of my lungs in my arms he dies
He dies."
"No!" Steve shouts as he sits up in his bedroom. He frantically searches the room and is relieved everything is in color again. Bucky wasn't dead, he knew that, and yet each night he relives his death he awakens drenched in sweat, never able to shake the sick feeling in his stomach.
But he lays back down on his bed anyway, checking the time: 1:09 a.m., even earlier than the night before. Each night Steve is forced to re-experience Bucky's death, in a number of different ways, the earlier he wakes up. The sick feeling doesn't help either. He turns onto his left side, and closes his eyes. No good. He flips to his right side and closes his eyes tighter. Still no good. The nausea is only going to persist if he keeps tossing and turning, so he carefully sits up. Maybe tonight should be the night, the night he talks to Bucky.
No, Steve thinks to himself, your so-called "need" to speak to Bucky is more than a dream discussion, and you know it. The thought of waking Bucky in the middle of the night is simply unthinkable. As if his problems were ever more important than Bucky's needs. Ever since the Avengers found Bucky, it has been nothing but help to heal and guide Bucky into joining society again. Steve's aberrant thoughts were zero priority, and yet he found Bucky gravitating to him more than any other Avenger. But this is only because Steve is the only one with shared life experience so it would only make sense that Bucky be most comfortable with him.
Not that it mattered. As far as Steve was concerned, any feelings he has for anyone are rather pointless, as he never seems to do anything right. He was seventy years late for a date with a woman he wasn't sure he had truly loved. He was always about finding the right partner to dance with, but was Peggy the one?
He is ashamed to even think such a thought, especially since the one name that usually came to mind when Steve thought of his partner was certainly not a woman's name. In fact, it is the only person he wants to be with right now, and the thought that perhaps in another universe that person might want him right now too causes Steve to leap from his bed and toss the sheets aside.
"Screw it," he says to himself, "I need to find Bucky." He grips the door knob of his bedroom, hesitating for a moment, then silently opens the door, entering the dark hallway. Since finding Bucky, the Avengers found it best to live collectively, all around each other in order to help Bucky learn how to live comfortably, and get used to being around people. Tony had the team move into the Avengers' Towers, which provided everyone with communal living rooms, kitchen, bathroom, etc. and their own personal bedrooms. Except Steve and Bucky were the only two that actually slept alone, never bothering to ask who was where the night before. Now Steve could join the club. Well...not precisely the same club as everyone else, but one where he won't have to face another night alone.
He finally makes his way to Bucky's bedroom door, which only has one characteristic marking it as his: a red star sticker placed in the top center by Steve. That was when they had first moved him in, and also the last time Steve had been in or around Bucky's bedroom. Steve's nausea hasn't subsided, but he felt his stomach shift. It went from sickening fear to sickening nervousness. So it's reasonable when he hesitates to knock. He holds his fist up, but is terrified of actually knocking, fearing he would wake the Winter Soldier, and not Bucky Barnes. He instead takes a deep breath through his nose and holds it, clenching his jaw. He is about to knock when he hears a voice.
"It's open."
Steve immediately lets out the breath he is holding, washed over in relief, then adrenaline. How did Bucky know he was there? The Captain almost throws up.
He slowly lowers his hand to the knob and opens the door a crack.
"Bucky?" Steve whispers, peeking into the dark room. He sees Bucky sitting on his bed, the sheets covering just his legs, his metal arm still on, and his hair in a ponytail. His window had the blinds drawn, allowing the city lights to paint the room with a faint white-yellow glow. It shone on his metal arm in just the right way, casting a glow upon Bucky's scruffy face.
How can one human being be so beautiful?
"Yeah?" Bucky calls, breaking Steve's trance.
"I, uh…" Steve struggled to speak, "I had a…nightmare." he swallows, immediately regretting his decision to come here. It was as if he were a child, a child who couldn't get over a stupid dream without crying about it to someone about it. Someone he cares more about than they do for him.
And yet he searches for a welcoming response in Bucky's face, feeling overwhelmingly pleased when Bucky smiles and tells him to come right in.
Steve squeezes his body through the small crack in the door and gently closes it, tiptoeing to the bed. Bucky pulls his knees to his chest, allowing Steve ample space to sit at the foot of the bed. He chose to sit on the very edge, still facing the door rather than Bucky, in case the nausea persisted in a negative manner. Although as of now, it starts to feel more like butterflies.
The nervous Captain plays with his hands as he stares at the floor, neither knowing where to begin, nor why his heart is so pounding hard, so loudly in his ears. In that moment he was thankful for the dim lighting, for he was sure his blush would show. It wasn't just being in Bucky's bedroom so late at night, or that Bucky welcomed him in with a smile that was making Steve blush. It was that Bucky wore no shirt, while Steve always sported a tank and boxers when he slept. He felt absolutely ridiculous, perverted even, by feeling so giddy about it, but he could not help himself.
"So, you had a nightmare?" Bucky asks dryly.
"Yeah," Steve replies, fiddling with his hands more harshly now; he can feel the awkwardness settling in, unwanted and unwelcome.
"Do you, uh, wanna talk about it?" Bucky asks slowly. Steve sneaks a peek at him, "Did I do that right?" Bucky speaks more quickly.
Steve smiles, "Yes, exactly right." It's been most difficult getting Bucky to become accustomed to maintaining conversation and relationships. He often speaks with no emotion, nor will bother to show any of it. All of the Avengers have been aiding him in this sense, insisting expression and social conventions were an important part of life.
"Well, talk about it," Bucky orders, rather impatiently.
"Alright, Buck," Steve smiles a bit wider. It disappears as he takes a deep breath, "It was about the war. About you."
"Me?"
"Yeah, I, uh. I have them every night actually. It's always about your death, and how I couldn't save you and how I still can't." Steve looks back down at the floor; he can't face Bucky, fearing that he's going to look at his best friend and the color is going to fade away again.
"You always tell me," Steve continues, "I should have been able to save you. And you're right, I should have been able to catch you from falling off that train."
"No," Bucky says suddenly. Steve looks at him; he can see Bucky's breathing is becoming uneven, his eyes frantically searching for Steve's, "I chose to join the army. I wanted to follow you. I fell from that train, but I survived." The Sergeant's voice is a bit louder than Steve would have anticipated.
"And now you can barely remember your life because of me." Steve chooses to keep his voice low, "Because of me," Steve pauses, "Hydra has wiped away your life, your memories. Everything."
"You blame yourself for that?" Bucky asks, his eyebrows furrowing.
"Of course I do!" the Captain says weakly, "How could I not? I'm Captain America. The point of my existence as a hero is to save people and I couldn't even save one of the most important people in my life." Steve's voice fades a bit in the last part of his sentence, "You went through hell and back, because of me. I should have sent you home when I found you in the first place. You shouldn't have come on those last missions with me."
"You know I wouldn't have backed down. I don't remember much, but I do remember that I would have never left your side, especially if it came to a fight," Bucky leans down to find Steve's eyes so he'd look at him, "'M with you 'til the end of the line, pal." Bucky forces a weak smile.
Steve's stomach flips inside him and his nausea feels more threatening. He smiles, and shifts his right leg onto the bed as to start and face Bucky more than before. The good feeling is ephemeral, however. The Captain can't let go of the idea of his nightmare, "But the dreams…" he finds himself saying, "I keep reliving not being able to save you. You're being tortured, or you're falling off the train again or you're-"
"Steve, you did save me." Bucky cuts him off.
"What're' you-"
"You saved me from Hydra. From the Winter Soldier. The moment you said my name on the bridge, that alone began triggering memories. Memories of you and I back in Brooklyn as kids. For so many years I was just a ghost, and just you saying my name helped bring me back to life. I don't know about you, but that sounds like a rescue to me." Bucky folds his arms and smiles at Steve, who can't help but smile back.
"I guess you've got me there."
"It's not going to help though, is it?" Bucky's tone changed completely. When Steve looks at Bucky, the Sergeant is focused on the buildings outside his window. The Captain studies his profile; the way Buck's hair doesn't all fit into the small ponytail, yet the loose hair frames his face perfectly. The way his nose is perfectly curved, down to his lips...and his chin that juts out just enough for a thumb and forefinger to hold it.
"It's not going help," Steve thinks aloud, trying to divert himself from focusing so much on Bucky's face. Words from Bucky won't help, but actions from Bucky would. It's a ridiculous notion that Steve could ever think his dear friend would be willing to help him in the manner he needs-no, wants-so he has to let the idea go. Though the tone in which Steve has said it wouldn't help, a small part of him hoped Bucky would understand the subtext of his sentence. Wanting Bucky to have heard, "It's not going help, but maybe something else would…" He obviously didn't.
"I don't sleep anymore," Bucky says quietly.
"Whaddya mean you don't sleep?" Steve asked, genuinely confused. Even Bucky can't go this long without some shut-eye.
"I don't...I can't really sleep. I take naps sort've. But most of the night I just, sit here," Buck is still focused on the buildings outside, "The nightmares are far too intense. If I sleep in shifts, I won't remember them very well. Except sometimes when I wake up I just remember." The Sergeant involuntarily frowns. He takes a deep breath, "I just remember being the ghost no one would ever catch."
"At the end of the world,
Or the last thing I see
You are never coming home
Never coming home.
Could I? Should I?
And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me
For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me."
Bucky's mouth won't stop quivering, won't stop tugging down into a frown. He swallows hard, clenching his jaw, and glaring at the buildings outside his window. His metal hand rests on his right bicep. The longer he stays silent, the harder he digs the metal fingers into his flesh. The Captain can see his skin turning white beneath the pressure of the Sergeant's grip.
"Buck…" Steve says quietly, leaning forward extending a hand.
"Don't touch me," Bucky hisses, his arms up defensively. He shifts as far away from Steve as possible, positioning his knees protectively in front of his chest.
The nausea is back, and more threatening than ever. Steve feels his throat tighten, the sting of that small rejection nagging his entire body. He moves both his legs onto the bed and pulls his own knees to his chest. Facing the door again, Steve rests his chin on his knees, somewhat like a child who had just been told no. Although he felt this way, he hoped Bucky wouldn't see it that way.
"Sorry Bucky. I just...I want to help." Steve whispers.
"You can't." He mumbles, "Just like you and your nightmares. Nothing is going to help and nothing ever will, right? So what's the point in trying anymore?"
"You know that's not true." Steve tries.
"Why? You said it yourself, 'It's not going to help.' Me telling you how it is isn't going to help you and me crying about my inability to sleep without having night terrors isn't going to make them go away."
"Sometimes talking about it helps," Steve says hopefully.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Well sometimes that's all you ne-"
"I don't want to talk about it!" He repeats, practically shouting.
"Alright," Steve raises his voice, facing Bucky again, arms up, as if the gesture will help, "Alright," he says again softly, "We won't talk about it."
Bucky relaxes slightly, letting his knees fall into a sitting position. He still keeps his jaw rigid, however, and still digs his fingers into whatever they're on.
"I'm sorry," Steve adds gingerly. Bucky remains reticent for a while. Steve complies to the silent wish for it to be quiet by keeping his mouth shut as well.
The two soldiers stew in their own thoughts for several minutes, occasionally fidgeting and sighing. Steve folds one leg beneath the other, his right elbow on the folded knee with his forehead resting in his hand. Bucky leans back into his pillow and stares pensively at the ceiling, sporadically running his fingers through his loose hair. Each time he does so, Steve takes a chance to stare while Buck's eyes are covered. Although he's sure the soldier notices his head whip back to it's original position in his now sweaty palms.
The silence isn't uncomfortable, but Bucky's insistence on never breaking it is what makes Steve anxious. He switches palms, using the other freed hand to tap his fingers on the bed.
Eventually Bucky relaxes at full length, pushing Steve nearly off the bed with his feet. The Captain looks at the Sergeant upon feeling the touch. He raises an eyebrow, wondering if he was meant to fall of the bed, or it was a simple accidental tap. As if reading Steve's mind, Bucky decides that yes, he was meant to fall off the bed. With a swift kick of his leg, he pushes his friend onto the floor. Landing with a thud, the Captain looks up at his counterpart. Buck smiles.
"Jerk!" Steve says, fighting a grin.
"Punk," Bucky replies, folding his arms with a satisfied smirk. Steve props himself on the side of the bed, giving the Sergeant a look. They both laugh after a moment.
"That actually made me feel kind of better." Bucky admits.
"Like I said, you're a jerk."
Bucky extends his left arm as to pull Steve back onto the bed, "Sorry I don't know really what came over me. Thought it would be funny." Bucky smirks again, "It was funny."
"Yeah, yeah, Buck. You never liked me being pushed around by bullies, but you always found joy and pushing me around." Steve continues to smile as he speaks, letting Bucky know he's not being entirely serious.
"'Course 'cause no ones' allowed to push you around 'cept me." Steve observes the fact that Bucky tends to slur a bit when he's tired, and he finds this to be rather cute, despite himself.
"Back at you, pal," he replies. Steve then lies on his back at the foot of the bed, folding his arms behind his head. He lets his legs dangle off the side, able to touch the floor with his feet. Staring at the ceiling, Steve feels a surge of contentedness welling inside him. This feeling of pure enjoyment from being in Bucky's presence. An old, yet familiar feeling. He sighs.
"It's kind of like the good old days."
"What is?" Bucky asks.
"This. I don't know if you remember. We used to hang around like this all the time. Before the war. Do you remember?" Steve glances at Bucky who is looking rather distressed. He quickly adds, "It's okay if you don't. I didn't mean-"
"No, no." Bucky's words leave his mouth rather rapidly, "I remember. Sort've. Well, I mean. Did we talk about girls?"
"If I fall
If I fall (down).
At the end of the world,
Or the last thing I see.
You are
Never coming home
Never coming home
Never coming home
Never coming home
And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me
Never coming home
Never coming
Could I? Should I?"
"Yes, we talked about dames. Actually you talked about dames. All the plans you had to get me a girl. 'Course, I never liked," he pauses, "I mean, I never was good at talking to the...to the gals." Steve does his best to keep a light humor to his tone, however it's difficult to pretend the reason you can't talk to girls is because of shyness, and not because you find men to have much more appeal. Particularly one man.
"What about Peggy?" Buck asks softly. Steve arches an eyebrow, "Agent Carter? Yeah I guess I did have a good shot with her. She kissed me, you know."
"Yeah?"
"Right before I crashed a plane into the Arctic."
Bucky shoves Steve's shoulder with his foot, "Idiot," he mumbles.
"I had a date with her the following Saturday, too. To go dancing."
"You never wanted to dance before." Bucky points out.
"Not until I met her." Steve's breath catches a bit, but he quickly gets it under control, "I don't know she just. She actually liked me, y'know? Before the serum I mean. She'd actually talk to me and she believed in me. And then I went and crashed a plane into the Arctic, like, well you said it, like an idiot...It's not like she didn't know I didn't have a choice." Steve sneaks a peek at Bucky. Bucky is looking out the window again, biting his thumbnail. He continues on, helplessly rambling, "She knew it's what I had to do. But the next thing I knew I was waking up seventy years late for a date." He laughs ironically, "She was my best gal. Always will be."
"Christ, Steve." Buck says under his breath.
"What?" Steve furrows his eyebrows, looking at the Sergeant.
"What?" Bucky's head swivels over to look at Steve, puzzled.
"Did you say something?"
"I didn't say anything. You're talking so much, prob'ly just heard yourself." Bucky shrugs, completely snapped out of the trance he was just in. Was Steve detecting a hint of jealousy from Bucky?
As soon as the Captain even considers this, his rational side comes crashing down on him. How he could he possibly think Bucky would ever be jealous of Peggy? And why did he hope that he speaking of Peggy would make Bucky jealous? Had he honestly spoken of her to get a rise out of Bucky? How dare you, Steve thinks to himself, Shameful. Despicable human being. To bring up Peggy, someone who had been a devoted partner by his side, just to attempt to make a man jealous. A man who probably hasn't ever even thought of Steve in any way than more than a friend. A completely ridiculous and irrational notion in itself. Steve covers his face with his hands and tries not to scream.
A few minutes of silence pass and Steve tries to regain control of his mind, shoving his negative thoughts away. It was a constant battle with himself, at least when it came to Bucky. Speaking to him, looking (staring) at him, being near him, in the same room as him, thinking of him. As much as Steve hated himself for being happy that Bucky was here now (given the circumstance for his existence in the present) he could not help himself. Anyone would be happy that their best friend is still alive, right? Technically speaking, it was rational to become excited by Bucky's presence. But perhaps it was the wrong kind of excited.
"It's 3:34. Do you want to sleep?" Bucky's rasped and exhausted voice breaks Steve's train of thought.
"Not really," he answers honestly, "Don't you though?"
"Yeah, but 'm afraid to."
Steve sighs. Despite his mind constantly telling him no, he denies that command and tells himself yes, just ask, "Do you think if you had someone in the room with you, you might sleep better?"
Bucky chews at his lip. Steve closes his eyes not even daring to let his mind go there.
"You mean, like you stay in the room with me while I sleep?"
"More or less."
The Sergeant ponders this for a moment. The Captain is trying not to over think his boldness in his past few sentences.
"I think I'll be okay." Bucky says slowly just as Steve's heart sinks quickly, "I'll sleep 'til six."
"Alright, Buck," Steve quickly gets up off the bed. He looks over his shoulder at Bucky, "See you in a few hours."
He crosses the room, trying to fight the nausea that has returned, hoping his doesn't throw up before he has a chance to exit the room. He grips the door handle but is stopped by the voice behind him, "Hey Steve?"
He released the handle, and turns to face his dear friend, "Yeah James?"
The two are both taken aback by the use of Barnes' first name.
"Come back tomorrow night? I...it kinda does help talking to someone, in between sleeping." Bucky has already settled down beneath the sheets and on his pillow.
"Of course, pal." He tries to suppress the mad grin begging to form upon his face.
"Night Steve." Bucky yawns.
"Good night." Steve quietly leaves Buck's room, making sure to softly shut the door. He speed walks back to his room, and lands face down onto his bed, trying not become too ecstatic. But how could he not? He was going back tomorrow night. And hopefully for many more nights.
Regardless of all the negative thoughts that constantly bounce around Steve's head, he couldn't help but be happy about finally getting to spend time with his best friend. All these months have passed, with the two never ever really truly getting to connect again, to spend time together. It seemed as if the scars would never heal, and Bucky would be a ghost forever, a deeply concerning thought that always loomed in the back of the Captain's mind. That all changed tonight. Steve felt something well inside his chest, originating from the pit of his stomach. He felt his heart flutter and his cheeks flush. His rational side knew he was being far too beatific, but he just couldn't care.
Steve turned over to lay on his back. Running his fingers through his hair, he felt the feeling of exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks. The Captain pulled his blankets over him, switching positions to lay on his side. He closed his eyes and found sleep came quite easily tonight.
He couldn't remember his nightmares when he woke up.
"And for all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me.
For all the ghosts that are never gonna…"
I hope the characters are written well, and that you enjoy feelings because there are a lot of them.
Please let me know if you'd like me to continue in a review!