This is part of my Marvel Fan Fiction Canon, inspired by a Tumblr post that's been floating around the past few days. Some dialogue is stolen from the gifset, but the plot is largely mine. Content Warnings for: loss of a mother, loss of a brother/lover, and referenced assassination attempts.

Steve nearly falls off the balcony when Thor lands, boot-thumping heavy and accompanied by the loudest thunder, beside him. "What are you doing here? This is a safehouse. Nobody knows where this is."

"Heimdall knows. I intend no harm towards you." Thor raises his hands slightly, a hollow smile dimpling his cheeks. "I heard about your friend, and I am sorry, Captain. But I am here to help you." He leaned gingerly on the railing, careful not to break it with his weight, nonchalance more a soothing affectation than anything else.

Steve stares down at his hands, shaking his head. "Help?" There's no helping me. Not unless he's hiding Bucky under that cloak.

"I know how it feels," Thor said, for once in a murmur rather than a boom, "to fight someone you love."

Steve nods, looks up at Thor through eyes squinted against the rising sun. "I think we loved them in different ways, Thor."

With a hand laid on his shoulder, Thor shook his head. "No. We loved them the same, and we lost them the same. But your Bucky is still alive, and we may yet find him."

Steve almost smiles, but like Thor's, it's a shade too empty to ring true.

They leave before the sun has reached its blue place in the sky.

...

It takes mere moments to arrive on Asgard, and Steve is more than a little awed by the sheer opulence of what he assumes is basically the Grand Central Station of Thor's homeworld. Gold discs line the walls of the rotunda, passing beams of light back and forth with Heimdall's armour as he climbs down off his pedestal, twisting his sword and closing the Bifrost.

As they approach, Steve whispers nervously, "Are you sure he doesn't mind?"

"My Lord." Heimdall bowed low, eyes sympathetic. "Captain. Who do you seek?"

"My, um - James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky; I call him Bucky. Recently he's gone by The Winter Soldier."

"Say no more. I see him." Heimdall, unblinking, stared out into the Void, eyes reflecting things only he could see.

Steve's heart leapt into his throat; he could taste it pulsing. Brow furrowed, hands wringing, he thought, This must be what he felt every time I got caught up in some back alley brawl. "Is he safe? Is he..." Steve swallowed, hard. "Is he hurt?"

"No. But he's confused, and lost." Heimdall pulled back into himself, turned to the two of them and squeezed Steve's shoulder. "I will keep an eye on him."

"If he ever... If he needs me, can you call?" Steve shifts, soothed somewhat by his newfound knowledge. "I don't like him all alone."

"Heimdall shall alert me," Thor promised. "I will find you and bring you to him." He smiles, a little less empty, a little less sad. "Your Bucky will have help when he needs it."

Steve throws two grateful arms around Thor's shoulders, squeezes, listens to his back crackling happily, like popping corn. "Thank you."

"Friend Steven, you are always welcome to all Asgard has to offer," Thor murmurs, voice fragile. "There is always help for those who need it here." His hands are warm and broad, stable, against Steve's back. It's a good hug, and even though it doesn't smell quite right, doesn't fit against their chests the same, it still reminds them both of who they miss.

Thor drops him off back at Clint's safe house and gives him a parting smile before zooming away.

...

Every few days, Thor comes back, lets him know how Bucky's doing. He spent a few weeks in DC, then started walking - walking - down the coast. He makes pit stops in plenty of states around New York, and it's confusing enough for a few days until Steve remembers: Bucky came with him when he tried to enlist. Not always, but more often than not, Bucky waited outside while Steve got shot down, slung an arm around his shoulders and walked away with him, bouncing their hipbones against each others', buoying Steve's spirits every time they sank.

It takes weeks for his grin to fade, knowing that Bucky is starting to remember.

Natasha - who now goes by Natka, and it still tastes funny to call one of the most competent women Steve knows by the diminutive of her name - is a little leery of his visits, even though she's glad to hear about Bucky; she hates the idea of a whole world of people knowing where they are. She's not used to anyone knowing everything about her, and now they do. Sitting against his side, she'd confessed that she felt naked. Not in the powerful way, not like this was a mission, but weak, exposed, foolish.

"He's too noticeable," she insists, rinsing out her mug and filling it for another cup of tea. "He's eight feet tall and built like a monument. Someone's going to find us."

"He's lonely, Natka," Clint says, crossing his legs from his perch by the sink. "You heard him, right? Someone died."

Her eyes widen infinitesimally, light glinting off the curve of her iris. "Ohh."

"Who died?" Steve asks.

"His lover," Clint's thighs tense, knees sinking closer to his chest. "Someone who mattered."

The next time Thor visits, Steve asks him; he can't imagine losing Bucky and his Mom at the same time.

...

Bucky wakes up in the storage cupboard of a Brooklyn hospital and says the first name on his lips. "Steve?"

Three worlds away, Heimdall summons Thor to his rotunda. "James Barnes is awake. He's asking for the Captain."

It's three in the morning on Earth, but nobody seems to care. Steve almost grouches at being woken, but there's a sympathetic urgency on Thor's face, and Steve doesn't even open his mouth to ask before clutching a beefy forearm and nodding.

Steve grabs the doorhandle and flings himself into the cupboard, arms around Bucky tight and wanting. "I got you, Buck. I got you."

Bucky buries his face in Steve's chest and sucks in shaky breaths against his t-shirt. "You got sick when you were ten and we took you here. Appendicitis. I was so scared. You were makin' this noise, like you were gonna..."

"I'm fine. All better." Steve lets out a broken little laugh, so relieved his cheeks are soaked. "You remember anything else?"

"A lot."

"Then let's go home, get some sleep, and we can fill each other in."

Thor flies them back to the safe house, and Steve throws his arms around Thor again. "Thank you for everything."

Thor's eyes are as wet as Steve's when he hugs back.

...

Come morning proper, Natasha/Natka rolls out of bed and finds two of her boys cuddled into each other at the kitchen table, Bucky munching on a bowl of coconut granola with a curious look on his face.

Dumping a tea bag and some water into her old Stark Industries mug and sliding it into the microwave, she turns and smiles.

"Sorry I shot you, Natka," Bucky says, sliding the marmalade and cereal box her way.

Natka shrugs. "It's fine, Yasha. Just find me a bikini that covers the scar and we're even." The microwave beeps, and she stirs a spoonful of marmalade into her tea, licking the spoon clean before pouring her cereal.

"Zvuchit spravedlivo," Bucky says, as easy as breathing, and Steve blinks.

"You gonna fill me in on that, too, Buck?" Steve asks, grinning.

"Sir, yes, Sir!" Bucky salutes crisply, beaming. Natka steals the milk from him and splashes it into her bowl, taking a bite of cereal, settling in on Steve's other side.

They resume eating in pleasant silence, slumped all over each other in a puppy pile of ex-agents.

It's the happiest they've been in a long time.

I hope you all liked this. Please review!