A/N: hey everyone! I saw Infinity War last night and this is my attempt to cope with the horrors I witnessed. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT YET WATCHED, SPOILERS GALORE AHEAD. This can also be read as a follow-up to my Stucky fic Daybreak, or on its own with the implied premise of Steve and Bucky getting, ahem, closer slowly post-Civil War. PM me if you wanna yell about the giant throat punch we all took as a fandom with the release of this movie. In the meantime, have this not super comforting little oneshot of mine lol. I love you guys and hope you like it! :D

"Buck," Steve's voice murmured low in Bucky's ear, both of them a sweaty entangled mess and closer than either of them would have ever dreamed they'd be back in the old days. "Stay with me."

Bucky groaned and clutched Steve harder with the only hand he had, short nails dragging down his back and eyes squeezed shut as he whispered, "I can't, I'm - God, Steve -"

"You wait for me," Steve urged him gently, kissing his parted, swollen lips for emphasis. "Wait for me, please..."

It almost killed Bucky but he did it, jaw clenching and hand slipping into Steve's hair and holding on tight as they moved together, chasing a new kind of pleasure that neither of them could hardly fathom. It was new, different, unexpected in so many ways and yet now that it was happening, now that they'd ended up here like this in bed inside Bucky's humble little Wakandan home... it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe even the only natural thing left.

It was a revelation for Steve, to see the man underneath him writhe in pleasure and not in pain, not a trace of hesitance or conflict on his face, just trust and pleasure and...

"Now, Buck," he gasped out, forehead to forehead and gentle, deep thrusts losing their rhythm. "Oh God."

Bucky obeyed him beautifully, mouth falling open and body shaking and gripping him with a force like Steve had never felt, both of them overcome with a ground-shaking euphoria that left them breathless and collapsing within each other's arms. It was so much more than just the physical act, so much more than the too-short release of tension and gratification, though those things were incredible in their own right. But it was more, and it was everything Steve had used to think he'd just never get to have with anyone.

He never would have thought that he'd have it with his best friend. If fate hadn't set their lives on such strange, unexpected paths all those years ago, he didn't think they would have ever come close to this, never even considered it. But they had been placed on those odd journeys and now... now, here they were.

Steve's face was buried against Bucky's neck as they both calmed down, body draped over his and still inside of him, the room silent apart from their heavy breaths and the occasional gentle brush of skin against skin when Bucky would slide his fingertips along the back of Steve's neck or Steve would softly kiss his neck and let his hand smooth down his chest. It was slow and lazy and neither of them wanted to move for at least another 70 years or so, but eventually Steve's brain kicked back to life and reminded him that he had to take care of Bucky now, couldn't just fall asleep on top of him the way he kind of desperately wanted to.

Bucky hissed softly when Steve gently eased out of him, lifting up with an elbow on the bed as he looked down at him and gave himself a moment to take Bucky in like that - satisfied, sleepy, content, beautiful. Maybe even happy. And it was all because of Steve.

When Bucky opened his eyes, he looked up to find Steve smiling softly, sweetly down upon him. It made Bucky smile himself and murmur, "What?"

Steve shook his head, but he couldn't shake that smile. "Nothin'."

Bucky chuckled, a light little wisp of a sound as he reached up and touched Steve's beard, enjoying the roughness of it before he slid his hand up higher and brushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen into Steve's eyes. His eyes flickered from Steve's own to his lips and back again before he said softly, "So this is what Steve Rogers looks like when he ain't a virgin anymore."

Steve rolled his eyes slowly but aggressively, smiling and tilting his head as he gave Bucky a pointed look. "You had to go and ruin the moment, didn't you?"

But Bucky merely shook his head, grin softening into something much sweeter. "No. Couldn't ruin it if I tried."

Steve didn't know what else to do but melt. He leaned down and kissed him again, slow and lazy and without the heated need of before, just comfort and affection and everything neither of them had ever expected to get to have with another human being again. Or in Steve's case, at all.

He was happy to be wrong.

But eventually he pulled away, mindful of the mess between them both and muttering as he began to lift off of Bucky, "Let me go find a towel and -"

But Bucky's hand shot out and curled around his upper arm, stilling him and keeping him from leaving as he quickly murmured, "Don't. I don't care."

"But -"

"Stay with me," Bucky urged softly, his blue eyes all but pleading. Steve couldn't have said no even if he had wanted to.

Instead of leaving him, they shifted and moved under the covers, trading places. Steve laid on his back and Bucky curled up to him on his left side, right arm draping lazily and comfortably over his waist as he laid his head on Steve's chest. Steve ran his fingers through Bucky's long hair, wondering if he was ever gonna cut it when Bucky interrupted his thoughts with a slightly humorously asked question.

"How the hell did this end up happening?"

Steve chuckled and, just to tease him, replied as if he didn't already full well know, "Well first, I got a message from T'Challa about how you had been successfully deprogrammed, and -"

"- And then you flew here like a dumbass to see me even though you're supposed to be staying under the radar," Bucky finished for him with a good natured eye roll. "Yeah, I got that part. What I meant is... how did this end up happening."

Steve stared at the ceiling, fingers still absently playing with Bucky's hair as he considered his possible answers to that question. He ended up going with the most honest one. "I'm not sure. But I'm glad it did." Blinking a few times, he looked down with sudden concern and asked quietly, "Are you okay? Does it - are you sore or -"

"Yeah, I'm pretty fucking sore," Bucky chuckled, shifting a little bit and hiding a wince. "But I'll be fine, s'no big deal." He looked up at Steve and added quietly, "Worth it."

Steve stared back at Bucky, words failing him for a moment. But only for a moment. "I've missed you."

Bucky paused and smiled at him, soft and small and sincere. "Missed you, too. Though I guess I had it easier since I was asleep some of the time."

It had been over a year for Steve. A year spent worrying and hiding and keeping busy with secret missions he ran with Sam and Nat, a year not knowing if Bucky could be cured and what he would choose to do if he couldn't be. Now those worries were in the past and the man in his arms was no longer a handful of words away from snapping into a mindless murder machine. He wasn't quite whole, maybe never would be just like Steve wouldn't, but that was all right. Maybe put together they could resemble something vaguely whole and unbroken.

"How was it?" Steve asked curiously. "How did she fix you?"

Bucky gave a light shrug. "I didn't feel a thing. Sounded scary as hell when she explained it to me but... it's crazy how different things are when it's someone who actually cares and respects you and isn't..."

Steve nodded when he trailed off, not needing Bucky to say anything more. "I know. I'm glad she did it. What do you think you'll do now?"

Bucky drew a deep breath. "Well... I love it here. As long as they'll have me I wanna stay."

Steve nodded, wanting nothing else for Bucky but what he wanted for himself. "Gonna get a new arm?"

"Shuri's designing one," Bucky replied. "But I'm fine without it for now."

"You are?" Steve replied, a touch of surprise in his tone.

"Yeah," Bucky murmured, absently drawing nonsense patterns along Steve's ribs with his fingertips. "Never really realized how heavy that arm was until it was gone. I know the new one will be lighter, I just... it feels nice as I am. Don't feel like a weapon this way."

Steve didn't question that. Wouldn't have dreamed of it, either. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Buck."

"Feeling real good now thanks to you, pal," Bucky replied cheekily, leaning up with his palm planted on Steve's chest and kissing him softly after Steve blushed at his words. One little kiss became a few deeper, longer ones and Steve didn't think he'd ever stop being astonished by how easily it came. It hadn't been too long ago that he'd been all but convinced that it would never feel like that with anyone but Peggy, every other attempt that he had made leaving him feeling conflicted or, worse, nothing.

But Bucky... he didn't even have to try with him. It was effortless. So much so that all of this had happened.

Steve couldn't bring himself to second guess it. As skilled of an overthinker as he was, he refused to go down that road with this. With him.

By the time they each drew away, they were laying on their sides facing one another, legs entwined and close enough for their chests to touch. Steve's arm was wrapped around Bucky and holding him close while Bucky toyed with the longer than usual hair at Steve's neck, asking him quietly, "What's next for you?"

Steve sighed, fingertips tracing along each dip of Bucky's spine as his hand moved slowly down. "I dunno. Guess I'll just keep doing what I've been doing."

"Saving the world one secret mission at a time and not getting any of the credit for it?" Bucky asked wryly.

"It's not about the credit."

"I know it's not," Bucky replied, a tender tone to his voice. "Wouldn't be you if it was."

Steve's hand stilled at the small of his back, lingering there as he admitted with his eyes cast down somewhere under Bucky's lips, "I don't know how to do anything else."

Bucky understood. He understood better than anyone. "Yeah."

"But that's okay," Steve said, repeating the same mantra he told himself when he started to feel like he might break. "As long as I'm helping people, doing the right thing... that's all that matters."

Bucky looked into his eyes, a certified professional and expert at seeing past Steve Rogers' bullshit, and asked simply, "Is it?"

"Has to be," Steve replied without hesitation.

"Maybe not," Bucky countered gently, fingers sliding from the back of Steve's neck to his jaw, thumb playing along his beard. "You could stay here for awhile. With me. Take a break, just... live."

Half of Steve ached just at the mere suggestion, the exhaustion that had been settled deep into his bones for years never having seen any true relief or even a chance at it until that moment. But the other half knew better, knew that he couldn't stop what he was doing and stay here and just live like Bucky had said.

He didn't know how to do that. He wished he could find out and maybe someday he could, but for now all he could do was open his mouth and search for the right words to use to say no.

But Bucky sighed and smiled before Steve could say a word. "Relax. I know you're not gonna do that. But I wanted to offer 'cause I wish you would."

Steve let out the breath he'd been holding, meeting Bucky's gaze with a self-deprecating glint in his eye. "Wish I would too."

Bucky shook his head and then pulled him in for a kiss, just as starved for affection as Steve was, maybe even more. Steve was happy to give it to him, hand moving up between his shoulder blades and pulling him closer as he kissed him long and gentle. He'd never kissed anybody the way he had kissed Bucky, never mind every other physical thing they'd stumbled into together. All of it only served to make him feel ever more inextricably linked to him, like if the bond between them was severed he'd stop breathing or, at the very least, stop wanting to.

It was just like the old days, he thought as Bucky slid his tongue against his, only more complicated. Bucky had always been the center of his existence for as long as he could remember, for as long as he'd had the capacity to retain memory, and he still was now. Now he was just occupying parts of Steve's mind and heart that he never had back then, taking up those spaces like he had always been destined for them one way or another.

Maybe he was. Either way, whatever this was and whatever it turned out to be in the end, Steve needed it and, self-sacrificing as he was, he couldn't deny himself this. Not when Bucky seemed to need it just as much as he did.

Bucky was the first to pull away, both of them getting worked up all over again but Bucky hitting the brakes as he asked quietly, "So after this, after you leave... s'it gonna be another year until I see you again?"

Steve shook his head. "I'll come when I can."

Bucky gave him a knowing, slightly weary look. "So two years?"

Steve huffed. "I hope not. Dammit."

Bucky grinned and his tone grew teasing as he said, "Better not be. Have you seen the women around here? Fucking gorgeous. Only a matter of time before I work my charm on one of 'em."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

Bucky nodded. "Hell yeah. So don't let me slip through your fingers, pal."

"Wasn't planning on it," Steve murmured, capturing his lips in a deep, hard kiss and putting an end to their words for now. He knew Bucky was only teasing but that didn't matter - he wasn't gonna share him with anybody and he was gonna prove that now, and leave no room for arguments.

He dragged Bucky to the shower to do it, finally getting them clean just in time to get filthy again, and for awhile everything was right with the world. He wasn't empty, wasn't alone, wasn't hopeless while he had Bucky with him. The sun shined a little brighter and the world spun a little more evenly, and he could breathe more easily.

Some things would never change. But they could evolve and grow, and that was what he was sure they were doing. Where they would end up he wasn't sure, but as long as Bucky was there with him at the end of that line, everything would be all right.

Two years later

Horror, shock, guilt, soul-crushing grief. He'd felt it all before, each one more than once, every blow hardening him further and further until he had become the man he was today. But he wasn't so strong or so hardened that he couldn't shatter.

He had shattered before. He remembered the feeling like it was yesterday, like his very soul had been branded and marked with the kind of sorrow he wouldn't wish on another living being. He had survived - he always survived, even when he didn't really want to - but he would never forget and rarely would a day go by where he didn't think of it. Even after he got Bucky back, he still thought of it.

And now, bloody and bruised but still standing, still alive, watching the handful of dust he had lifted from the ground slip through his fingers and fall back to the earth, he felt it again.

In the past he had been shot, stabbed, blown to hell, beaten within an inch of death, and suffered more close calls in his life than should be possible, but none of it felt even a fraction as horrible as this. He felt it in his heart, his bones, his very soul, the ripping and tearing and breaking and... shattering.

Just seconds before he had been standing right there. Battered like Steve was but alive, breathing, standing. Speaking. Saying Steve's name. Now he was gone, all that was left of him falling from Steve's hand and being carried off by the wind, like he had never existed at all.

The symmetry of it was astounding. Half of all life in the universe gone just like that, taking half of Steve with it.

The shock would wear off soon, he knew. Next would come anger and then every other stage of grief that he knew so well, but then would come the worst part of all. The longing.

Longing to go back, to change what had happened, to rip Thanos' head off with his bare hands to prevent it. Longing to see Bucky again, hear him again, touch him again. To give him the breath out of his own lungs, piece him back together from the dust he'd left behind.

Longing to be the one who had ceased to exist instead.

But here he was, cursed with life and cursed by fate to always be the survivor.

The last of the dust slipped from his fingertips. His shock and grief parallel to that of countless others in the universe, he looked up and watched more fall all around him. But the wind never carried him away with it.

His faith, his hope and half of his soul was gone. All he had left was the unwanted breath in his lungs, his strength, his fists, and soon... enough rage to tear that monster limb from limb if he could only get his hands on him.

He'd do anything and everything he could to get Bucky back. And if he couldn't get him back, if he really was gone for good this time and lost to Steve forever...

He had been the first Avenger. He'd damn sure be the last one if that's what it took to have his revenge.