Author's Notes: Whilst in a rut a few weeks back, I asked readers for prompts. Here follows the first of them: Steve/Bucky # 4: "How long has it been since you've slept?" More shall follow intermittently! (Congratulations, Anonymous Prompter, you've prompted my first foray into Stucky!) So this fic is really a series of unconnected short stories from multiple fandoms, all responses to prompts and indulging my hurt/comfort addiction!

Canon Notes: This fic follows the comic canon that Steve did stumble into Wakanda during World War Ii and got into a brawl with the then-King - (some say it was T'Chaka, but judging by T'Chaka's age in 1992, I'm going with T'Challa's grandfather, King Azzuri) which Steve lost. But they eventually reached an understanding, and Steve gave the king his triangular old-model shield as a token of his respect and never reported Wakanda's technological capabilities.

Trigger Notes: This fic references period-typical homophobia from the 1920s-1940s as well as some rather mixed-up attitudes about homosexuality and sex between two young men in love who didn't have a lot of references. Also, there is brief reference to sexual assault in modern times.

Catharsis

Refuge

Every time Shuri visited, Bucky Barnes unfailingly asked her if she'd seen or heard anything of Steve Rogers and his team.

Shuri kept her briefings, well, brief, even though she kept meticulous track of Rogers and the other fugitives, and not just for Bucky's sake. The alleged international war criminal intrigued her more than Captain America ever had, even with the triangular shield in pride of place among Azurri's trophies from battles in the 1940's.

As far as Shuri had seen, nothing Rogers had done while a fugitive from his home country constituted war crimes. Quite the opposite. But in the eyes of his warmongering, imperialistic government, apparently rescuing civilian hostages and destroying weapons made of alien tech made him an enemy.

She and T'Challa agreed to keep the details to a minimum when she spoke to Bucky. Not that they believed Bucky himself would be indiscreet, but he was often surrounded by curious children and local farmers who might not grasp the ramifications of repeating anything they heard about Captain America.

And there was the fact that much of the news would only worry Bucky, and for his first few months in the most remote village of the Q'Noma Valley in the river province, he was too weak to do anything about it. Even when he recovered, the former Winter Soldier rushing into Syria or Lebanon to support Steve Rogers would almost certainly cause more problems than it solved.

"He did very well in Syria," she told Bucky after Rogers and his team had finished their work there. "They disabled two tons of Chitauri-based weapons and exposed the couriers who would have taken them to the U.S. Your countrymen are very grateful even if your government isn't."

Bucky snorted. "Of course the U.S. government isn't happy. They've been letting those groups slide just for the sake of 'confiscating' weapons based on alien tech - so they get the weaponry without being accused of building it."

T'Challa and Wakanda's war dogs had all reached the same conclusions. Shuri smirked. "I know American opinion polls aren't always reliable, but some reputable statisticians conducted surveys and found Rogers and his team are more popular with the American people than the most popular American politicians."

"Still, low bar," Bucky murmured, to her disappointment. She'd been hoping to make him smile. His neighbors and the local children reported to her that he was the saddest person any of them had ever known, rarely smiling and never laughing. (Then again, maybe that was part of the reason - along with his missing arm - that none of the villagers found this white stranger threatening, even after some inquisitive souls connected him with the international manhunt for the now-exonerated James Buchanan Barnes after the Vienna bombing.)

Shuri was watching when Rogers and his team appeared in Chechnya, liberating a prison camp using suspiciously-otherworldly force fields to hold detainees in. Due to the fields, the captors had placed far too many guards, and Rogers, Wilson, Maximoff, and Romanoff made relatively-easy work of the whole set-up.

At least that was how it looked until a few trucks full of troops arrived and opened fire on prisoners and liberators alike. Maximoff prevented most of the prisoners from being hit while her teammates went on the offensive, and began taking down the soldiers - all armed with Chitauri-based weapons.

It still seemed like nothing Rogers couldn't handle - then a bolt grazed his shoulder, sending him staggering off-balance, and a second caught him high in the chest. Shuri cursed, and a few of her fellow watchers hissed as Rogers fell to his knees.

Several soldiers saw his weakness and took aim, but a mob of nearby prisoners saw his plight and charged, taking down the aggressors with sheer numbers, despite their skinny, starved appearances. "Steve, get up!" Shuri heard Romanoff shouting. "Get up!"

Rogers should have been able to get up. But he only pitched forward when he tried, landing on all fours, fighting with all his remaining strength just to stay conscious. "No," Shuri whispered. What will I tell -

A large shape swept over the snowy, muddy earth down to Rogers, and snatched him up under the arms, flying him away to safety. Romanoff and Maximoff came running into view and finished off the troops, calling to the survivors of the camp to run.

Commentators watching the footage all had the same question: how badly injured was Captain America?

Shuri called T'Challa. "Brother - "

" - I've already heard," he assured her as soon as he answered. "I don't want to call him right away while they're trying to escape. Come see me, and we'll try in a few hours."

In the palace, Shuri insisted, "We need to know something. Bucky shouldn't find out about this from neighbors' gossip."

T'Challa raised his eyebrows. "Oh, it's 'Bucky,' now?"

She thumped him. "I call him what he asked me to call him." But she called the village elder and admonished, "Don't let Thabo say anything to Bucky, not until we know more about what's happened."

"I don't think anyone knew something had happened to Captain America until you told me, but I will make sure no one speaks of it," the old woman promised.

Finally, T'Challa called Rogers' phone. From Rogers' end, it would be a cheap burner phone, but the tiny camera Shuri had installed let them see as with their kimoyo beads. It was Maximoff who answered nervously. "Hello?"

"It is your friends," T'Challa said carefully. "We've seen what happened in Chechnya. How is he?"

She checked the phone, recognizing the number, but was wise enough not to mention names. However, her unease made Shuri nervous. Unable to come up with an answer, she handed the phone to Romanoff. "I think he'll pull through, but it's going to take time, and we'll be vulnerable until he's healed," Romanoff explained.

Shuri poked her brother in the ribs. He rolled his eyes, but told the fugitive Avengers, "I'll come for him. Then you can move more quickly, and when he returns to you, he'll be fully recovered."

Someone nearby let their breath out - Wilson, who muttered, "Thank God."

Despite their discretion, their distress over Rogers' condition was coming through loud and clear. "How soon can you be here?" Romanoff asked.

T'Challa and Shuri deftly plotted the quinjet's location, and T'Challa ordered his shuttle. "I'll be at your location by dawn. Move if you have to; I'll find you."

"Thanks."

T'Challa smirked after he ended the call. "I thought you were tired of fixing broken white boys."

"I am not, I think it's fun!" she retorted. "And Rogers is handsomer than Ross. Go get him and call me when you've seen him so I can tell Bucky he'll be okay."

For all he teased his sister and for all his sister indignantly denied it, T'Challa knew Shuri had grown fond of James Barnes - to say nothing of the children in Q'Noma Valley. The name "White Wolf" bestowed by the children had stuck, and T'Challa figured that was just as well not to have the name of James Buchanan Barnes or the Winter Soldier being bandied about.

"He's the most popular white man in Wakanda," Okoye remarked as they prepared to board the shuttle, making Shuri laugh.

Shuri refused to tell White Wolf of Rogers' injuries until she'd seen a report, and the village elder promised no one would mention it to White Wolf until Shuri's next visit. Shuri would tell him herself.

Within six hours, while it was still dark in Chechnya, the Wakandan shuttle cruised down to an abandoned warehouse far from any nearby settlements, where T'Challa's instruments picked up the quinjet hidden.

They touched down still cloaked, and found Romanoff waiting for them. "Your highness, if you hadn't called, I'd have called and begged," she said without preamble.

T'Challa sped up his pace. "How bad?"

"Bad. On top of the fact that he shouldn't have even taken that hit to begin with; he's been behind on sleep, and last week it started affecting him. I've never seen that happen to him before, and his endurance is a lot longer than mine."

Steve Rogers, Captain America, was semiconscious on a stretcher in the quinjet's cabin with Sam Wilson and Wanda Maximoff at his side. Both looked exhausted, and Rogers looked many times worse. Rogers saw T'Challa approaching and started to struggle; Wilson and Maximoff tried to keep him still.

"Wasn' him...y'r hi'ness, wasn' him..."

"I know," T'Challa soothed, putting a gentle hand on his chest, avoiding the dressing-packed wounds. "He's safe, Captain. I promised he would be safe; do you remember?" Rogers just blinked; obviously he didn't remember, but T'Challa's reassurances seemed enough, and he relaxed. T'Challa looked at Wilson.

At first glance, the airman had seemed calmer than young Maximoff, but now that they were feet apart, T'Challa realized differently. Sam Wilson was holding his fear and grief back by sheer force of will, and his voice shook when he spoke. "Broken ribs, broken left shoulder, third degree burns, and none of it's healing the way he normally does. Shock."

"He hasn't been sleeping well," Wanda Maximoff whispered. "He didn't know I knew...he tried, but he couldn't."

Okoye scanned him and nodded to T'Challa. "Give him to us," he said. "We can treat him and ensure that he rests enough to recover."

"Tony...i'wasn' him..."

Wilson and Maximoff winced, and Maximoff patted Rogers' hand. "Bucky's safe, Steve."

The three former Avengers watched with wide eyes as T'Challa and Okoye hovered Rogers on a stretcher back to his shuttle. "He'll be fine," T'Challa promised. "I'll keep you informed."

"Thank you, your highness," Romanoff said. The other two seemed too emotional to speak. She put a hand on each of their shoulders as the shuttle hatch closed, vanishing Rogers from their view.

After examining the readings from the shuttle, Shuri flew straight to the Q'Noma Valley. Bucky was in the company of only adults, for once, occupied with construction of a new farm building - and despite having only one arm, he was able to lift more than twice the load of any of the other villagers.

At the sight of Shuri, the villagers broke into murmurs, and Bucky caught on at once that there was news for him. He set his burden down and hurried toward her, faster than she'd ever seen him move here in Wanda. "What's going on?"

"Captain Rogers was injured yesterday - he's going to recover," she quickly assured him, as his breath caught. "My brother's bringing him to Wakanda. I've seen the scans; I think he would have recovered completely either way, but we can treat him far faster."

Bucky leaned back against a tree and shut his eyes, breathing heavily. He seemed unable to speak.

Shuri said impulsively, "You'll see him soon. When he's been treated, I'll bring him to see you...if you want, that is."

Still not opening his eyes, Bucky nodded.

Though his injuries weren't as life-threatening as Everett Ross's had been, it did take Shuri longer to patch him up. "Agent Romanoff wasn't joking when she said he was sleep-deprived," she huffed to her brother, gesturing to the brain scan readouts. "Anyone who hadn't been a supersoldier would have dropped dead months ago."

T'Challa frowned. "I fear we've all assumed Captain America is invincible to ordinary human weakness. I thought giving White Wolf peace would also give him peace."

"I didn't know you were so devoted to giving broken white boys peace," Shuri couldn't resist remarking - and promptly dodged around the display table so he couldn't take a swipe at her.

"They're my friends too," he retorted. "And I owe them a debt."

Shuri knew that, of course; it was just too much fun to tease him. Then she swore under her breath as Rogers came around - again! "This man is immune to sedatives," she muttered, giving him another dose.

"His metabolism is beyond even mine with the power gifted by the heart-shaped herb," said T'Challa, steadying Rogers' restless twitching until the drugs took effect. "I feel sorry for him; our grandfather said he is incapable of even getting drunk."

"Bast forbid," muttered Okoye. "I'd do away with myself."

"However difficult Captain America's life, at least he doesn't have to protect him," said Shuri, pointing at her brother without looking up. She managed not to laugh at T'Challa's indignant growl and Okoye's sly chuckling. "I promised White Wolf I'd bring Rogers to see him before he leaves."

"That's a good idea. For security's sake, I haven't even told him his friend's awake. Maybe seeing White Wolf in good health will ease his mind."

Seventy-two hours later, Rogers woke to find his injuries healed and T'Challa and Shuri in attendance. "How do you feel, my friend?" T'Challa asked gravely.

Testing his shoulder and examining his only faintly-discolored skin (even that would fade completely within the week, Shuri calculated), Rogers still lied. "Incredible. It's like it never happened."

Except for the part that he's still completely exhausted, Shuri mentally amended it and managed not to snort. Men. She might have qualified it, "white men," if it weren't for the fact that her brother was just as bad.

T'Challa took the job of carrying out Natasha Romanoff's request. "I've granted a favor to your friends: you're not to leave Wakanda until you've rested. Four days under sedation and surgery isn't enough to recover from the sleep you've missed for months."

Rogers turned bright red and stammered, "But - my team - "

"They're safe and well, quietly continuing their work in Chechnya of assisting former prisoners to safe locations." T"Challa let Rogers keep his dignity and didn't press him on how or why he'd missed so much sleep that it impaired him in combat. "My sister will fly you to a safe location."

It said a lot that Rogers went with Shuri without arguing. Shuri decided against telling him who was waiting at said safe location.

Rogers didn't say a word during the flight. It reminded her a great deal of Bucky.

She did contact the village elder and inform her in Wakandan, "I'm bringing White Wolf's friend to visit him. Keep the children and the curious away for a little while, so they can meet in privacy."

They landed a discreet distance from Bucky's house, and true to the elder's word, no one else was nearby. Rogers descended the ramp curiously, and Shuri stayed on board - with the shuttle's cameras at an angle that let her see the look on Rogers' face when Bucky came out of the house.

Rogers froze. "Buck...?" he whispered.

It fell to Bucky to approach, because Rogers couldn't seem to move. His reaction was all too familiar. "Like an antelope in headlight," Okoye had said of T'Challa at the sight of Nakia.

Shuri and Nakia had a wager on whether Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were more than just "best friends" as American historians liked to claim.

Shuri watched eagerly, as Rogers put out a cautious hand, testing Bucky's presence, and Bucky responded with complete ease, touching Rogers' face, pulling him even closer...no, that was not just a friendly hug! Shuri jumped silently up and down in the shuttle cabin. Nakia owes me a hundred uluthi!

It was just the quickest, lightest brush of Bucky's lips, but unmistakable before Rogers slumped in his arms. "My God, what've you done to yourself?"

"Nothing," Rogers lied.

"Bullshit. How long has it been since you've slept?"

Shuri chose that moment to come casually down the ramp, and Rogers foolishly tried to use her as an alibi. "Six hours, and I slept four straight days - ask the princess."

Shuri folded her arms. "Sedation for surgery doesn't count as sleeping, Captain; you should know that. I leave you in Bucky's care, and you're not to return to the field until you've rested."

Bucky grinned. Shuri nearly froze then herself. She'd never seen him grin like that before except in old newsreel tapes from World War II, a young man laughing at his best friend's side. For the first time, she connected that young man with Wakanda's solemn White Wolf, who mock-saluted her and said, "Yes, ma'am. I'll call when he's cleared for duty."

She was a little sorry to say goodbye to them and return to the shuttle. She'd have liked to know who Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes really were, and she doubted there was any way to learn that unless they were together.

Well, she'd be able to get at least a partial report from the local children. They wouldn't be able to resist for long.

Bucky dropped the casual act as soon as Princess Shuri's shuttle had gone and glared at Steve, making him cringe. "You look like hell. Don't lie to me, Steve, what the hell's been going on?"

Steve tried to back off, but Bucky wouldn't let go of his shoulder. One-armed or not, Bucky's one hand felt strong. "Bucky, I...really, a few days ago was the worst hit I've taken since - since Siberia. It wasn't that bad; I'd have recovered. I guess Wakanda could just make me recover faster." Bucky just stared him down. Steve sighed and relented. "Been having trouble sleeping. That's all. Been worrying a lot, I guess."

With a sigh of his own, Bucky released him and gestured to their surroundings. The place was quiet, picturesque. A few Wakandans were working in gardens and animal pens nearby, but although they cast curious glances at Steve, they didn't seem concerned. "Sorry I didn't ask the king to tell you they brought me out of cryo. I just...needed a little time."

"I get that. I'd never want you to...do anything before you're ready." Even though I chased you for two years. Steve studied him, searching for a sign of what being out of cryo meant. "So...it's done? They got Hydra out of your head?"

Bucky smiled and nodded. "About four months ago. Shuri rebooted my whole brain, or at least that's how she describes it. I was pretty out of it for the first few weeks, and even after that, it took me awhile to get back up to snuff."

Steve looked at the dark scarf covering his left shoulder and managed not to sound too dejected. "Can that not be replaced with something..." Better? No, don't say that.

"No, it can. Hell, Shuri was talking nonstop about different designs until I said no. I just...don't want one. I can do fine without it. I never asked for the first one, let alone...what I did with it."

Steve couldn't help it then; he reached out and pulled Bucky back into his arms. When Bucky melted against him, the relief was so intense it made him weak. Or weaker, anyway. Bucky sensed it and caught him.

"God, I'm glad you're okay," Steve tried to hedge, but Bucky was on to him.

"I am, but you're not, and that's changing before you go charging off to save the world again. C'mon. My place isn't much, but you can get some sleep."

With Bucky beside him, it was as if the last vestiges of Steve's self-control crumbled, and the dizziness and tremors he'd spent weeks trying to hide wouldn't be hidden anymore. Even leaning on Bucky, he could barely walk in a straight line, and despite the warm sunlight, he felt cold. He'd had the excuse of it being winter up in Chechnya, but in Wakanda, he felt more like back in Brooklyn when he'd been unable to get warm enough until high summer.

Bucky led him through the curtain/door of his small hut to what was surprisingly similar to the apartment Steve had seen in Romania: a bare mattress on the floor, a stack of journals, a few tools, and a mat next to a flat surface with a few dishes.

"Nice," Steve said, but gave Bucky a sly smile. "Except I wish you had a door that locked."

Bucky smirked and leaned in to purr into Steve's ear, "So do I. But knowing the neighborhood kids, that wouldn't stop 'em from finding a way in here. Half of 'em remind me of you." Steve had to laugh, but to his embarrassment, he lost his balance when Bucky gave him just a small nudge toward the bed. "And you're not up to anything other than sleeping anyway. Go on."

Steve settled on the mattress, which was surprisingly comfortable, but looked up at Bucky, feeling increasingly dizzy. "I don't..." I don't want to sleep, not when I just got to see you again, don't want to wake up alone...

He was sure he didn't finish that sentence out loud, but Bucky settled on the side of the mattress (big enough even for two men their size, Steve couldn't help noticing even with his increasingly foggy senses) and pressed Steve physically down, following it with a far deeper kiss than the one he'd used as a greeting. "Go to sleep," he murmured. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here."

The kiss and the ecstasy of it flooded over Steve and all he wanted to do was drown, but darkness was pulling him under with more power than ever, and he knew he couldn't stay above it anymore. "'m sorry," he mumbled. "Shouldn' be...like this...you..." I shouldn't be the one making you look after me, not after what you've been through.

"Don't be stupid," Bucky murmured, and kept kissing him, not letting Steve think about anything else - and his mind's complete bliss in that sensation wouldn't let Steve hold out against his body's exhaustion anymore. He sank down, still relishing the taste of Bucky's lips, Bucky's skin under his increasingly-sluggish hands, Bucky's hand in his hair.

"Love you..." Then he drifted away.

Bucky kept up his gentle assault until Steve couldn't manage to open his eyes again - and had to resist the urge to go on even after Steve's breathing had deepened and his hands had slid from Bucky's waist. God, you're as beautiful as I remember. And now I do remember. He nuzzled Steve once more, then slid the light blanket over him and pulled himself away.

It was less than an hour before Thabo and his partners in crime gave their parents the slip and came prowling back to peek through the curtain, but Bucky was ready for them. Settled chastely on a mat against the wall, his legs stretched out as he worked on his Wakandan on his tablet, he saw their eyes widen at the sight of the stranger asleep in Bucky's bed. Luckily, Steve had rolled onto his side by then and was facing away from the door.

Bucky was still far from fluent in Wakandan after only four months, but the time he'd spent out here completely immersed where only a handful of people spoke English - and a tablet to take lessons on - had given him a good start. So he gave the kids a stern stare and pointed at the door. "Out," he ordered in a whisper.

Someone called Thabo from outside, ready for a scolding, but Steve twitched and murmured in his sleep, tensing up, and Bucky dropped his tablet and shifted over to rub his shoulder. "Shhh, it's okay, punk. It's okay." He raised his eyes to meet the boys' again, and they dropped the curtain at last and scurried off. He let himself smile once they'd gone.

For nearly two days, Steve was unable to accomplish anything except sleeping, eating, and visiting the latrine. If it hadn't been for the latrine being separate from the huts, Bucky probably could've kept his identity a complete secret.

But even the residents of the most remote village in Wakanda had plenty of media access - their adherence to traditional building styles notwithstanding - and nearly all of them knew Captain America and his connection to "White Wolf." So the first time Bucky escorted a groggy Steve out of the house, Thabo and his pals were watching, and Bucky heard their gasping whispers as they recognized his companion.

Even Bucky's most discreet neighbors were soon peeking around the trees and sneaking looks when he cooked outside while Steve sat drowsily in the doorway.

Of course, it was Thabo who finally dared to approach and say it: "Captain America!"

Steve blushed bright red, which sent the kids into hysterical giggles; they'd done the same the first time Bucky blushed. Apparently white guys turning red was the funniest thing some of them had ever seen. "What do I say?" Steve asked Bucky frantically.

Bucky shrugged. "This valley's physically isolated, but not technologically: they've all got the Internet and communications with the city, shuttles going back and forth. Hell, one of the girls actually has a couple of your old comics. Most of them know you came to Wakanda in '44 and made friends with King T'Challa's grandfather – after he kicked your ass."

The village elder, one of the few who spoke English, was the one who dared to ask. "Is the story true? Captain America fought King Azzuri?"

Steve gave a sheepish smile and admitted, "Yes. And I lost. I came here chasing Nazis and never imagined the Black Panther had already destroyed them."

"You did not tell about us?"

Steve shook his head. "King Azzuri asked me not to speak of what I saw here. I made a promise."

"He kept it," Bucky confirmed, and added in Wakandan, "He never told anyone, not even me or the other men and women who fought with us."

One of the girls perked up. "Women fought with the West in the world war? I thought that wasn't allowed!"

"She's asking about women fighting in the war. She didn't know that was allowed in the Allies." He and Steve exchanged broad grins at that, getting an eager murmur from the gathered villagers. "It was not like Wakanda, but women did fight." He started to mention Peggy Carter's name, and a rush of grief went through him so powerful it cut off his voice.

I saw the broadcast of her funeral. Steve as her pallbearer. I should've gone to him. Steve had loved her and she'd loved him, and Bucky'd resigned himself to their inevitable marriage and rearing of truly spectacular babies. He'd resigned himself even before the war to finding a nice girl and raising a family. Those were the only options respectable or safe in those days, and Steve and Bucky's feelings for each other had been relegated to the most desperate secrets short of collaboration with the damned Nazis – hell, there were people in the Army who'd have been more forgiving of the latter.

But Peggy Carter had seen right through them. Once she'd made eye contact with Bucky while he watched Steve in a spar/brawl with one of the biggest guys in the camp – winning handily – and Bucky had been absolutely terrified, because he could see in her eyes that she knew. Steve would never have told her. He'd have known better than to ever tell anyone.

She'd slipped past him to claim one of the last bottles of ginger ale, a semi-flirtatious smile like all the female officers on a rare relaxing evening, but murmured in his ear, "Don't be afraid."

Bucky, panicky and still unbalanced after his time in Zola's hands, had confronted her at the first chance he got. "What the hell was that supposed to mean, what're you implying?"

She'd been completely unintimidated, while Bucky at his most edgy could make even the other Howlies nervous. "I mean exactly what I said, Sergeant Barnes. Relax. The world will be different some day, but until it is, I won't say anything. I understand."

A bewildered and scared Steve had approached Bucky later about a cryptic conversation he and Peggy had had. "She said…I asked her for her picture, and she said I could have one, but something about…if I didn't really want it, not to pretend with her. I – Bucky, I'm not pretending, I don't know how, but she knows about…the past."

Bucky'd tried desperately not to hurt at hearing the word "past," but they'd both always known one day it would come to this. It would've been dangerous before the war to try to live on the furtive edges of society, forever "pals" who shared a home…sooner or later people would talk. They could pass it off as Bucky's charity for his sickly friend with no prospects, but eventually there'd be whispers. There might be police, or just a few more guys than even Bucky could've fought off.

Now, with Steve as Captain America, in the world's spotlight? No chance. Absolutely no chance of a future for the two of them – it'd be downright suicidal. The Army and the military brass behind those comics and performances would never let Captain America be suspected of being a fairy. They'd arrange for his tragic and noble death in combat, the grand, glorious finale to his adventures – and Bucky too would wind up just another casualty. If they were lucky, the bullets would be quick, probably the work of one of Bucky's fellow snipers, or maybe a grenade.

It hurt now, but Bucky had no intention of signing his or Steve's death warrant by hanging onto an impossible dream. So he'd clapped Steve on the shoulder and said, "If you're happy, pal, I'm happy. I guess she's good enough for you, judging by that red dress and that right hook."

Tears had glistened in Steve's eyes, and he'd stepped closer. Bucky'd almost backed away out of sheer terror that someone might hear, but Steve had whispered, fast and desperate, "It was real before too. Part of me always will. Don't ever forget that."

"I won't. Don't you forget either." Bucky'd briefly clasped Steve's shoulder, wanting so desperately to pull him in for one more kiss, but he didn't dare.

There'd been no chance of it "working out" between Steve Rogers in the 1940's even before he'd become Captain America, and they'd both always known one day it would have to end. Bucky was glad to know Steve really had made a love match; it would've killed him to leave Steve alone when he finally found the right girl. That'd been one thing he'd been grateful to Howard Stark and that serum scientist for, giving Steve a chance with girls and a decent living and a long life with no more illness and pain.

Bucky would manage; plenty of guys came home from the war jumping at shadows and still managed to marry a sweetheart. Girls back home seemed surprisingly patient with the effect the trenches and shelling and endless gunfire did to guys' minds, if Becca's letters about the reunions she'd seen were true. Hell, girls back home were welcoming and marrying guys with only one leg or only one arm, who woke up screaming in the night. Bucky'd always thought pretty well of the "fairer sex," thinking they were tougher than many men and preachers and politicians liked to claim – thanks in no small part to his time knowing Sarah Rogers – but seeing women like Peggy Carter, the WACs and WAVEs, and the rest within miles (or behind) the front had only raised them in his esteem.

If Peggy could understand Steve's deviant past and accept it, well, that made her an even better woman than Bucky'd imagined. Definitely worthy of both Steve Rogers and Captain America.

So watching the broadcast of her funeral in 2016, days before the life he'd scraped together as a human being exploded in Vienna, Bucky's tears hadn't only been for Steve's sake. He'd found her biography on display at a bookshop and bought it, reading it in one night and cried again in the privacy of his apartment. She'd had the life she deserved, but she'd deserved that life with Steve too. They'd both been denied that. It wasn't fair.

Bucky idly wondered what the German Special Forces had made of the book if they found it in his apartment after the fight.

He'd gotten lost in the past. That'd happened here before; the kids looked at him in dismay, but the adults shushed them, refusing to let them try to get Bucky's attention back. Steve had shifted closer, watching with concerned eyes until Bucky focused on him again. "Sorry," he murmured.

Shuri returned a day later to look in on them, but looked Steve up and down and pronounced, "You're not ready to go yet. You should stay a few more days."

Steve wavered. "How're my team?"

"They're fine. I'll send you back with some gifts."

But Steve raised his hands. "We shouldn't use any tech traceable to Wakanda; we're international fugitives."

Shuri rolled her eyes. "It won't be traceable to Wakanda; I'm not an amateur." Then she eyed the way Steve and Bucky were standing – carefully several feet apart – and huffed, "You do know it's legal now in your country, yes?" Damn it, they both blushed. Of course, it hadn't helped that Bucky hadn't been able to resist kissing him when he came off that shuttle; no doubt she'd seen. Turning back toward the shuttle, she added, "It's also never been illegal in Wakanda. Between warriors, it's routine."

Steve and Bucky stared after her long after the shuttle had gone. "You know…when I first met her, Peggy intimidated me a little. …I think Princess Shuri intimidates me a lot," Steve muttered.

"I'm the guy whose brain she rebooted; you're preaching to the choir, Rogers. Peggy Carter was a damn impressive woman, but I dunno if she'd have managed a technical degree from the Tokyo Institute of Technology by age sixteen masquerading as a Kenyan student prodigy – not counting whatever degrees she has here in Wakanda."

The next time Shuri visited, Thabo and his friends were sulking over a pile of skins to be scraped and tanned. "You got in trouble for teasing White Wolf and his friend, didn't you?"

"We didn't wake him!" Thabo protested. "They're still asleep!"

Thabo's mother rolled her eyes. "I told them they'd all be scraping skins if they opened that curtain again before White Wolf and Steve come out."

"White Wolf loves Steve," one of Thabo's friends, a girl, pronounced.

Shuri blinked, and Thabo's mother stiffened along with the girl's mother. "Rayan!"

"What? He does!" Thabo protested.

"So you've been spying on them?" Thabo's mother demanded, all trace of humor gone. Yes, teasing them was one thing, but the children's mothers would have some harsher discipline for invading the two men's privacy - though Shuri was surprised they'd have had the courage to express their love here knowing there were inquisitive children around.

But then Rayan said, "No, we don't spy! We didn't go in again!"

"Then how do you know they love each other?" Shuri asked.

Rayan's answer forestalled the mothers' tongue-lashings: "He makes White Wolf laugh. No one can make White Wolf laugh. He hardly ever smiled until Steve came."

The mothers softened along with Shuri. "Oh. Why do you call him Steve?"

"He told us to!"

The kids returned to their work, chattering among themselves, and Shuri and their mothers just listened.

"It was funny when Steve tried to help herd the goats."

"It's always funny when the white guys try to herd the goats."

"White Wolf's gotten better."

"White Wolf's had practice. He knew the goats would head-butt Steve. I don't think he told."

"Because he knew it would be funny!"

"It was funny!"

"But White Wolf never laughs."

Shuri slipped away from them and - once sure she was out of sight of the kids - broke her own edict and peered through the curtain door of Bucky's hut.

Bucky and Rogers were still deeply asleep, Bucky on Steve's chest with his arm draped across Steve, and Steve with one arm wrapped around Bucky. Shuri didn't think they could be any more enmeshed with each other if they tried.

She silently let the curtain fall closed and slipped away again.

Steve could've stayed there forever. He and Tony had joked about it a lifetime ago after staying with Clint, the thought of life on a farm. It'd never really appealed to Steve. The sound of animals and the smell of grass and manure and trees had kept him looking around for snipers in the trees and the sound of machine gun fire, or a cry of "air raid" sending them all crowding into the basement.

He certainly didn't have a head for doing much more than chopping wood and carrying heavy bales around.

But he could've stayed there in that little village in Wakanda, helping feed goats and gut fish and getting laughed at by the neighbors for his complete ineptitude for the rest of his life, as long as it was with Bucky.

The first time a goat's head-butt sent Steve sprawling into the mud, Bucky laughed - really laughed, like Steve hadn't ever heard in this century, and the Wakandans looked as stunned as Steve felt. Then they'd looked as happy as Steve felt, and he knew beyond any remaining shreds of doubt that Bucky was safe here and among friends.

The oldest woman in the village - fittingly, the "elder" according to Bucky - murmured to Steve the evening after the first goat incident, "He never laugh before. You come, now he laugh." Steve had had to swallow a lump in his throat and force a smile.

He could barely talk that night in Bucky's arms when he whispered, "I have to get back."

Bucky'd barely moved his lips from Steve's hairline, just whispered, "I know. They need you. You'd hate yourself if you stayed."

"I hate myself for going."

"Don't." Bucky's lips moved down his neck and Steve had to clap a hand over his own mouth to hold back a moan. "I'm good, Steve. For the first time since Azzano, I feel good. Safe from outside and my own head. Don't let me worry you. I can do things I haven't done since Brooklyn." His lips and his hand kept moving south, and it was way too much guilty pleasure for Steve to stop him.

They kept themselves damn near silent. Thabo's mother and his friends' parents had managed to scare the kids out of coming into the hut without Bucky's permission or peering through the curtain, but the two of them weren't about to risk being overheard, whatever Shuri might've said about men being with men being normal in Wakanda.

They had actually seen a pair of fishermen out on the lake from somewhere down the river, pausing from their work to embrace in what was clearly far more than "brotherly" affection. Nobody on the shoreline or the other boats had batted an eye.

Still, it'd be rude to give their hosts an eyeful or earful. So they treated it as a challenge: who could be quietest in the hut at night? Okay, it was usually Bucky, but Steve pretended to deny it. Sometimes Bucky didn't claim it. He'd always been the one who had a hard time keeping quiet in Brooklyn, even when silence had been less a game and good manners and more an act of desperation, so Steve had a feeling it was Bucky's "training" by Hydra still creeping in, keeping him silent to an unnatural degree even at the height of passion.

Luckily, the Wakandan winter was chilly at night, so they kept Bucky's blanket wrapped around them. If Thabo or one of his friends did suddenly peek through the curtain, Steve and Bucky could pretend to be asleep. (Even if Bucky happened to be on top of Steve at the time, well, the nights could get chilly. That was there story and they were sticking to it if anybody got the nerve to ask - which, thank God, nobody did, because Steve couldn't be sure he'd keep a straight face.)

His last night in Wakanda was the hardest. Bucky wanted him to top, but Steve wouldn't. He couldn't.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. (As yet another precaution, they spoke French when they didn't want anyone to overhear them.) "I can't. I love you, I can't…yet."

Bucky sighed and relented. In Brooklyn, most of the time Steve had topped and had to wheedle and nag and argue Bucky into doing it. Bucky'd hated any suggestion that Steve was the weaker one in the receiving role. "Everything we know about this comes from weirdly-obsessed nuns or banned magazines, Buck, why do you let that tell you how to do it 'right'?" Steve had protested. They'd fought about it as much as they dared – hell, that was the reason for most of the fights they had that weren't about Steve getting into fights, anyway.

So when Steve had summoned up the courage and asked, "When they had you, did they ever…assault you?" Bucky had tried and failed to lie.

"N-no. I…I was a prize weapon; they didn't use me or let anybody touch me unless, y'know, uh…" He'd started to shake, and Steve had known. He'd slumped into Steve's arms. "I don't remember much." They both knew he was lying and doing a really bad job of it.

Steve had almost snapped at Bucky not to lie to him. He'd choked it back and trailed the gentlest kisses he could along Bucky's scalp, then his jaw, moving down until they both had managed to relax again.

In Brooklyn, a few times, they'd dared to be rough. Quietly rough, but rough. Steve had found a yellowback novel about it and they'd both been dying to try it. It'd been fantastic.

They whispered about it in French in Wakanda, reminiscing while touching each other, but they were never rough, and Steve wouldn't top. He couldn't.

Having Bucky inside him was bittersweet, that last night, because in the morning, Shuri would return, and Bucky would tell her Steve was back in fighting form. They'd argued about that too. Bucky'd worried a week after Steve had been unconscious and in surgery wasn't enough. Steve had taken up two of the burly local guys on their eager offers for a spar to convince him.

"I don't want to spend my last few hours here arguing," Steve told him as they made dinner.

Bucky finally relented. "Okay."

They said goodnight to Thabo and his cronies and watched his parents shepherd him and the other kids away, then went into the hut and switched to French.

Bucky got a little rough, but Steve let him, and kept his own kisses and touches just as gentle. Finally, Bucky collapsed on him and buried his face in Steve's neck. "I don't want you to go yet."

"I know. I don't want to go yet either."

Bucky laughed, quiet and bitter. "You don't want to stay for the same reason I want you to stay."

"Are you sure? Not even a little?"

"Punk."

"Jerk."

Bucky pulled himself up on his arm to look at Steve's face in the dim light. Steve stroked his cheeks and pretended not to notice the wet trails. "I want to be able to watch your back."

"You're always doing that. No matter where you are." Steve kissed him, long and slow and languid like they had all the time in the world. "You deserve to be out of war and stay out now. Hell, the world doesn't deserve any more of you." I'm not sure I do either. He didn't say that.

But Bucky settled in at his side. "I don't think the world deserves you, or even Captain America and the Avengers. They had their chance and threw it away."

"The world didn't decide that. Just the ones in power. I'm not fighting for them anymore, I'm fighting for people who don't have choices or agendas." Steve turned onto his side and put his hand on Bucky's cheek. "Don't hate me for it. This feels more right than half the stuff I did for the Army."

Sad, but all too understanding, Bucky shook his head. "I won't ever hate you. Not for anything you choose. Your choice is sometimes the only way I know something's okay – well, the king and his sister are pretty good guides."

Steve grinned. "If I wasn't sure you'd be safe, I wouldn't leave you. But I believe them. They deserve you, and you deserve them."

"You're right, you know. I don't want to go back to war again. But I told the king…if he ever needs me, all he has to do is ask. I trust him."

"Good." Steve pressed another kiss between Bucky's eyes. They had to get some sleep sometime, or at least he did. "I trust you. You'll know when the time comes, if you're ready. I hope it doesn't." Somehow I just have this feeling we won't be that lucky.

In the morning, Steve said goodbye to the neighbors and the heartbroken kids when Shuri's shuttle arrived. Shuri looked him up and down, feigning doubt, but Bucky heaved a sigh and said, "He's fully recovered. Give him twenty-four hours, and he'll be causing chaos again."

"Well, that's how we know for sure he's back to normal," she replied. Catching the protesting kids, she grinned. "I don't know if Thabo and his friends will let you leave. They're going to miss you."

Steve grinned at the sad-faced kids. "I'll miss them. Oh – my Wakandan's still pretty rough, can you ask them…" he whispered in her ear.

She laughed and told the kids, "Steve asks you to promise to look after White Wolf for him."

Bucky let out a sputter of outrage as the kids chattered their vows and wrapped themselves around his Bucky's legs. "You little – shit," he switched hastily to French – only for Shuri to laugh harder.

"Uh-oh, she knows the code," Steve warned.

"You're lucky this isn't a bigger town. Everyone in Wakanda learns at least one or two second languages. You'd find many French speakers in Birnin Zana. Let White Wolf go so he can say goodbye to his friend," Shuri ordered the kids, who obediently (too obediently) stepped away from Bucky.

Keep a grip, Rogers, keep a grip… Steve let himself hug Bucky long and hard, and felt Bucky return it. Hell. They looked at each other, heard several of the onlookers (kids and adults) hold their breath – and to hell with it, Steve kissed him. Bucky returned it to squeals of triumph and murmurs of appreciation from the onlookers. "Take care of yourself," Bucky whispered, resting his forehead against Steve's.

"I will. I promise. You too?"

"Promise."

They let each other go, and Steve waved a final farewell to the villagers before turning and walking ahead of Shuri up the shuttle ramp. She watched him with soft eyes as he watched Bucky until the ramp closed.

"I'm glad you had the chance to rest and spend some time together, Captain. Bucky's become my friend since he's been here, and a friend to these people. We're very happy for you both."

It was an embarrassing moment before Steve could answer. "I'm…so grateful to you. All of you. Not just for taking him in and treating him, but…being his friends. Being the friends he's deserved for so long." It was longer before he could manage to meet her eyes.

"None of us can replace you, though. That's been obvious." She considered him before saying, "I hope you'll come and see him again soon, when you can."

"If…" God, what a thought, what a beautiful thought. "If…you and T'Challa'll have me…I'd love…yeah"

She beamed. "Of course we'll have you. My brother's very fond of you. You and Bucky are among the three white boys I actually like!"

Steve had to laugh. "That many? Who's the third?"

"None of your business! But in the mean time, while you're away, this is the twenty-first century. You can call him. Even see him while you talk."

"I think that's a risk none of us should be taking," Steve sighed.

Shuri rolled her eyes. "With your technology yes, but with ours." She held out a thin metal bracelet. "A little better than a modified burner phone. I'll give the mate to Bucky. It'll operate a little like our kimoyo beads. They'll call my brother or me if you need help. And when you have the time, they'll call Bucky. You'll see each other."

"My God." Steve put it on and closed his eyes. "Your highness…I owe you and your brother so much, there's no way I can ever repay you."

"Don't be ridiculous. You already are." She pulled up a video of the liberation of the camp in Chechnya, then the assault on the weapons depot in Syria. "Just keep doing what you're doing. When you need it, and when he has the chance, the Black Panther will always help you. Oh, but don't worry about the mineral traders in West Africa. My brother has that under control – well, not my brother, but someone better than him."

"Yeah?"

"Mm, someone I hope will meet your Black Widow some day. They'll have a lot to talk about, if they don't kill each other."

Steve grinned. "She said she really liked the Dora Milaje. She's hoping to see more of them in action some day."

"They hope so too." Shuri stepped into the control seat of the shuttle, but motioned to Steve to stay where he was. "I'm going to show you something as we go. You may need it some day. My brother and I trust you."

They came to a halt hovering a mile or so above the city. "Beautiful," Steve murmured. "Though I don't think it's just a beautiful view I'm supposed to be noticing."

"Not exactly, though I'm glad you appreciate it. No Westerner has ever seen it, let alone a white man." Shuri showed him the coordinates. "Now, watch our trajectory." The shuttle turned and continued away from the city…then the city was gone.

"Oh my God!"

There was a mountain in its place, green and forested. Shuri grinned at Steve's astonishment and showed him the coordinates again. "You see? Don't write it down, but if you can remember…"

"Trust me," Steve breathed. "I'll remember that. Everything about you and your country is unforgettable."

"Good," said Shuri. "We don't trust many outsiders. That's changing, but slowly. You and Bucky Barnes are the first who're no longer strangers."

~Fin~

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