Steve. His best friend.
Steve. Always fighting guys twice his size, always having to be dragged away, still yelling insults.
Steve. He became Captain America, a hero in everyone's eyes, although he had always been a hero in the eyes of his friend.
Steve. He had reached for him when he fell off the train.
Steve. He had brought him back, decades later, by calling out to him on the bridge.
Steve had helped him find himself from where Hydra had buried him under years of torture and brainwashing. When he woke up in the middle of the night with visions of death in his mind, death he had caused, Steve had stroked his hair and whispered reassuring words until he fell asleep again. When he couldn't trust his own mind, Steve had supported him and his decision to go back under. Steve had been in his thoughts as he let the cold claim him once more. When he woke up from the ice and began his therapy sessions, Steve remained a constant in his life. They fought together. They lived together. They were hardly ever apart.
So when Bucky Barnes saw a man stab Steve in the chest during a routine mission, he shot the man through the head without hesitation.
Steve was on the ground. He ran to his side, feeling the same type of panic that had taken hold of him each time he was prepped to be brainwashed. He looked at the wound, though his vision was blurring. Too deep. Too much blood. Too little time.
The winter soldier cradled his friend's head in his lap. He marveled at the wetness in his eyes, escaping them and streaming down his face. Nothing, not the torture, not the conditioning, not the enhancements, not even the brainwashing had brought tears. Strange that they were here now.
"Bucky?"
Steve's voice was wavering. "Can I ask you something?"
Bucky nodded furiously, unable to speak.
"Will you marry me?"
Bucky wanted to yell at Steve, tell him that now was not the time to be joking around, that he shouldn't have gone ahead by himself, that running around with just a shield and nothing else was always bound to get him hurt someday and look at him now! Bleeding out with nothing to do about it!
But Steve wasn't joking. Bucky could see it in his eyes. "Please?" Steve whispered.
Bucky blinked a few times, swallowed twice, and with everything he had left, replied. "Yes."
Steve reached towards his left pocket, his movements slow and muddled. He reached in, and pulled something out. He held out his bloodied hand to Bucky and opened it. In his palm sat a ring. Nothing fancy, just a simple silver band.
Bucky was bewildered? When did he get that? How long had he been carrying it? Was he actually planning on marrying him?
Trembling, Bucky slid the ring onto the ring finger of his good hand. It fit perfectly. Steve gripped his hand and they sat like that for a while. Even after Steve's grip loosened and the ragged rise and fall of his chest stopped, Bucky stayed there.
The others came. Bucky wasn't sure how long it had been. Minutes? Hours? They were horrified, as they should be. They all loved Steve and would have trusted him with their lives. They tried to console Bucky, for they all knew how close he had been with Steve. How Steve had practically started a civil war to save Bucky. How Steve had given up everything for Bucky once.
But they couldn't have known what it was like to be Bucky Barnes. What it was like to be missing something for an eternity and finally finding it, only to have it cruelly snatched away like it was never yours to begin with.
~000~
Honestly, I wish I had it in me to write more about these two. Still not my best work, but I have been fairly busy with finals coming up and all.