This is the sequel to 'Just Me and You'
. . .
He grew up in Brooklyn, right down the street from the sickly little asthmatic kid who would one day become a national, iconic, hero.
Not that James knew that.
No, for the first eight years of his life he didn't even know the knuckleheaded punk even existed.
He wished he could say that they instantly connected when they met, wished he could say they just clicked, that they were the best of friends from day one.
But he couldn't, because they didn't, because they weren't. If you had told nine year old him that he would one day be following Steven Rogers into the fires of war he probably would have either laughed or asked if someone had recently smacked you around, because you were talkin' nonsense, and only the stupid or concussed would even suggest somethin' so dumb.
(Then he would have gotten his ass whooped, because Ma didn't raise a disrespectful son.)
The thing was, as far as James was concerned, Rogers was nothin' but a no good punk with an ego ten sizes too big, always out lookin' for a fight. He was the kind of kid his Ma would tell him to stay away from if she knew 'im.
James was sure of it.
Which is why when he passes by an alley on his way home and hears a scuffle, sees a three-to-one brawl going on involvin' Rogers and three older boys from two classes above 'em, he was more than ready to just keep on walkin'-
-Except he can't.
He dives into the mêlée of limbs without really thinking. It's his first fight, and his ma was going to kill him, because he gets his ass handed to him on a shiny new silver platter; he has a black eye and bloodied nose and his wrist may or may not be sprained, and he still manages to look better than the tiny blond that got him into this mess.
The noise is enough to bring a semi responsible adult over and that scares off the older boys, and then it's just James and Rogers, sittin' in a dirty alley, covered in bruises and blood that wasn't all theirs (he'd managed to get a few good punches in, after all) and trash from the can that Rogers had been –literally- thrown into, and frankly? James was kinda pissed.
And then, that puny jerk had the gall to say, irritated, "You didn't have to do that, I had 'em on the ropes!"
And James kinda just explodes at that, shouting things and explaining just how stupid the other boy was, and that, no, you did not have 'em on the ropes and "There were three of 'em and they were five times bigger than you, what the hell were thinking?!" and he was really glad that the adult had already left because he was going to be in enough trouble as it is, he didn't need his ma findin' out all the things he was sayin' in his anger.
"I couldn't jus' stand by and do nothin'!" Rogers defends, "They were hurtin' her!"
"What?" James stops in surprise, calming down a little. If he had been defendin' a girl, well that was different. James had three sisters and he'd beat up anyone who messed with 'em, to hell with the consequences, so he could understand that kind of protectiveness.
"Yeah!" Rogers yells, now filled with a righteous fury as he walks, more like stomps, over to a box. He stops and leans down to gently grab something out of it, "They were all kickin' at her an' pokin' her with sticks -an' I couldn't just walk away!" He turns around and James catches his first glimpse of what he was holding.
It was a cat.
A fuckin' cat!
"Are you outta your skull!" James shouts, stomping over himself "You punk! You coulda gotten seriously hurt, and for what!? A freakin' cat!?"
"She's not just a cat, ya jerk! She's a livin' creature that didn't do nothin' wrong! They shouldn't a been pickin' at her like that!"
James's fist clenches "Why I oughtta-"
Then Rogers lets the cat go to tackle James and they were fighting again, only this time with each other, and it probably would have gone on longer had Steve not had an asthma attack. James freaks out, of course, because he didn't know what was goin' on, or why Steve suddenly couldn't breathe, and he hadn't wanted to kill the guy! Just knock some sense into 'im like his ma is always threatenin' to do!
After a couple of minutes of panic and confusion Steve gets his breath back, but he's still a little blue in the face and wobbly on his feet and James would feel pretty guilty if he just left him there, even if the guy standin' up an tryin' to continue the fight made the idea pretty tempting.
The cat was long gone, so it wasn't all that hard to wheedle Rogers's address out of him (which is how he learns they live on the same street) and almost literally drag him home.
The guy's mom is a nurse; irony, if James ever saw it.
And that? Well that was the beginning of the end, really.
. . .
His Ma talked about it all the time; soulmates.
His sisters loved hearing the stories in all the romantic details, about that one person made just for you, but James knew that not all soulmates were romantic. There was a pair of twins at his school that were soulmates, (fraternal boys that, as far as they were concerned, would never need anyone but each other. Despite that, they still fought like cats and dogs more often than not and anyone brave or stupid enough to suggest anything more was going on between 'em usually got sent home with a broken bone or six) and one of his teachers didn't have a soulmate at all!
Still, twelve year old James (though Steve had started callin' him Bucky after a little too much teasing with the nickname 'Stevie') listens, pretends not to be just as enraptured as the girls, and goes to sleep that night in the hopes that maybe he'd get to meet the person who would be, in the eyes of the world, his other half.
. . .
He's fourteen when he finally goes to his dreamscape. It's summer warm, with a crystal clear lake and a waterfall, the sun making rainbows in the mist.
It's beautiful, and everything Bucky could have ever hoped for, only…
Only he's alone.
. . .
For the first few years he tricks himself into believing that his soulmate just hadn't been born yet. They would obviously be platonic, but he didn't mind that. He was already a big brother, he could handle one more.
But he was eighteen now.
It was time to let it go.
. . .
Him and Stevie get an apartment to share, mainly because Steve doesn't want to continue to be a 'burden' on his ma, especially while she's so sick.
Bucky starts workin' at the docks, Steve gets a job as an artist for a newspaper, and they're both taking an art class together, because why not, really?
Bucky goes out dancing, dates a lot of real pretty dames, even drags Stevie along for some of 'em, because "just because we don't have soulmates doesn't mean we can't have a good time in the company of beautiful women, Steve, lighten up!"
(He ignores the slight winces Steve gives at comments like that.)
All in all, life was pretty great for this Brooklyn boy.
. . .
Too great, apparently, for it to last long.
A whole lot of fuckin' shit happens. Steve's mom dies, and the kid tries to be tough, but the sobs Bucky can hear through the walls tell a different story. He ignores them, even though he really doesn't want too, because Steve would just clam up if he went in there.
Sometimes you need to cry, anyway.
(But sometimes you need a friend, and Bucky just can't ignore it anymore after a week, and Steve can get all pissy if he wants, Bucky isn't goin' anywhere.)
. . .
Then Steve gets sick –okay, he gets sick a lot. (And hurt for that matter, why can't he stay out of a fight?) But this time, this time it's real bad, and Bucky is sure this is how he's going to lose his best friend, the best thing that's ever happened to him, and a priest has come in to read Stevie his last rites and, oh God…
Please, please don't take him from me.
. . .
Steve lives –thank God!- and Bucky kinda, sorta, has a crisis, because the punk is apparently the best thing that ever happened to him.
He doesn't tell Steve, hell no, but he stops grieving over a person that never existed, starts only going on double dates.
Because, fuck it, he doesn't care. All the docs say Steve won't live to see thirty, and with that deadline getting closer and closer, well, why not spent every moment he can with the person he actually loves, even if they could never be together, even if Steve hadn't been a completely straight laced kinda guy.
(Not that he could tell. Bucky had always considered himself pretty straight until recently.)
Besides, maybe neither of them had a soulmate for a reason.
. . .
Then a war breaks out. A war Bucky had no intention of fighting until he got his draft papers.
Staring at them, leaning hard on the dainty little kitchen table, all he could think of was one word.
Fuck.
. . .
He didn't let Steve see the draft papers, told him he had enlisted, because Steve would try to fight it if he thought Bucky was being bullied into it.
In hindsight, maybe that would have been better.
. . .
Steve insists on enlisting too. They turn him away, of course, but it doesn't stop him from doing it over and over again.
Bucky's only peace of mind was that Steve wasn't stupid enough to lie about how sick he was, that they would keep turnin' him away for his asthma alone.
He hugs Steve for what might be the last time and goes to fight someone else's war.
Ironic. He had always thought it would be Steve dying that would part them, now it looked like it would be him.
Fuckin' hell.
. . .
He becomes a POW.
Yeah. That happens.
He watches people he had come to see like brothers be taken and never come back. Alive that is.
Sometimes he and the other prisoners have to take the bodies to the incinerators.
The first time he throws up.
The second time he's stronger.
. . .
Then it's his turn.
He breathes through it and thinks of Steve.
At least the best part of him was safe at home, probably brooding up a storm.
That thought is enough to make him smile. A small reprieve before his torturers come back.
. . .
Steve is a fuckin' idiot.
But what else is new?
. . .
There's no way he's going to go home, honorable discharge or not, and leave Steve to fight a war all by himself, so he joins his little ragtag group called the Howling Commandos and pretends he's fine.
Why couldn't the punk just stay at home?
Because no matter what he says, he's really, really not fine.
. . .
A rumor gets started that him and Stevie are soulmates. When Dum-Dum actually out right asks him, Bucky laughs so hard he realizes he wants to cry.
That would have been so much easier.
. . .
He falls off a train.
He falls.
And falls.
It's a really long way down.
He was right. In the end, it had been his death, not Steve's, which tore them apart.
They had been drifting away from each other anyway. Steve had Peggy now, he didn't need Bucky.
It was the end of the line, and Bucky, no matter how bitter, would be forever grateful that Steve didn't follow.
. . .
Only it's not the end, and he wakes up in the hands of fucking HYDRA.
Son of a bitch, he should have gone home.
(Then he remembers all the times he saved Steve's dumbass from getting shot, and can't find himself regretting it.)
. . .
He doesn't know what they want from him, but they won't get it.
They poke and they prod and they torture, but he refuses to give.
Months later (has to have been, even though he could never be truly sure) they show him the newspaper.
Steve is dead.
The knowledge doesn't have the effect they want, though. If anything, it makes him hold out even stronger, because it would be a disgrace to everything Steve was to him if he gave in the moment the stupid ass punk decided to get himself killed, fuck, that bastard, what was he thinking?
He hadn't been, but it doesn't matter.
Steve was dead, Bucky was alive.
Turns out, in the end, he had been wrong.
. . .
It takes five years before he finally breaks.
He was in that chair for what could have been minutes or hours, doesn't even remember his own name, when he passes out.
The place he ends up was beautiful, soft fall colors, a lazy waterfall, truly the most gorgeous place he could remember –not that that was saying much- but…
He can't help but think it should be warmer.
. . .
They saw off the rest of his left arms nub, replaces it with an arm made of metal, start calling him the 'Asset', as if he were nothing more than an object, a weapon.
Maybe he is.
They train him, it, to perfection. They make sure it is equipped with the best of everything, because it will need to be functioning on all cylinders for its first assignment.
(Every once in a while he'll feel a faint stirring in the back of his head, an annoying itch that can't be scratched, but then he gets the chair, and everything is gone. It goes blissfully quiet in its head once more.)
They send it on a simple assassination mission to start out. It only hesitates a little.
Then they put it in a tank.
. . .
It wakes up in an undisclosed location.
It's winter, all the trees are dead, and the lake is frozen solid.
It blinks, and can't help but think it should be warmer.
It starts to snow.
. . .
The pattern continues. It goes out on assignments and completes them with a one hundred percent success rate.
It no longer hesitates.
The place it goes when unconscious is always cold, but it only ever snows in the tank.
It never tells its handlers.
. . .
Sometime in the fifties the Asset gets put on loan for the Red Room.
That is where it learns Russian.
It is to train up the children, the girls, to become the most efficient spies, assassins, killers, in the world.
They are young and scared, not skilled enough to hide their emotions, or jaded enough to know why they need to.
First lesson, one of them gets knocked to the ground. Hard. She starts to cry.
("Ah, hell. C'mon, Becky, don't cry. Y'know I hate it when ya cry.")
The Asset walks over and tells her to "Get up." In the coldest, emotionless voice he can, because there is no place for such things in the Red Room, and if it continues she will be punished. He does not want her to be punished.
She gets up.
. . .
It continues to be put in the tank. The girls change. People change.
The Asset does not change.
. . .
It doesn't just train the girls. The Asset also goes on assignments, in order to keep it in top form.
Many of the assignments it goes on it is accompanied by one of the girls it trained.
Her name was Natalia. She was beautiful, but she would always be a child to him and even as she claimed not to have a soulmate, he knew better. Could see it in her eyes.
It didn't know how it could tell, when it wasn't even sure what a soulmate was.
. . .
The loan is over. The asset goes back to HYDRA.
It leaves a bad taste in his mouth. A since of dread in the pit of his stomach that makes him want to fight back.
He doesn't tell the handlers.
They put him in the chair anyway.
And once again, it becomes blissfully quiet.
When it wakes up it doesn't remember the girls. Just the knowledge of Russian and the faint impression of red locks of hair and of feelings it doesn't understand.
. . .
And so it continues.
It doesn't hesitate when it stages a car crash.
It doesn't hesitate when it shoots through a bodyguard to get to the target.
It doesn't hesitate.
. . .
When they give it its target, when they show a photo, when they tell a name, all it can feel is an overwhelming since of 'No!'
It doesn't tell the handlers. It accepts the mission.
It will not hesitate.
. . .
"Bucky?"
"Who the hell is Bucky."
. . .
Who thehell is Bucky?
"But I knew him."
He shouldn't have said anything.
They put him in the chair. And it starts all over again.
. . .
"Please don't make me do this,"
He stares into painfully familiar blue eyes and realizes:
I don't want to.
But I have no choice.
. . .
"Then finish it. Because I'm with you 'till the end of the line."
'Liar!'
And then the target falls and all the asset can think is, 'Holy fuckin' hell, Stevie you idiot!'
He doesn't know where the thought comes from. All he knows is that when he sees the target fall, he jumps after him.
He doesn't know why that thought is enough to leave an ache in his chest.
. . .
After pulling a dumbass out of a river the asset –and why does that suddenly leave a bad taste in his mouth?- goes in search of information.
The asset does not hesitate. Failure is not tolerated.
Incomplete mission = failure, so why does the asset feel relieved by the fact that his target is still alive?
Thinking about it gives him a headache. He shouldn't be thinking about this without more information.
(He doesn't even consider going back to HYDRA.)
. . .
He goes to the Smithsonian to get information on the target, on Rogers (Stevie), but ends up finding something entirely different.
He finds himself.
. . .
When he sleeps, the place he goes is full of light greens and blooming flowers and melted snow. It's beautiful, even if the water is too cold to swim in.
It warmer than he remembers.
. . .
He takes the name James, because he's not the asset anymore but 'Bucky' sounds too personal, too important, too not quite right, to use just yet.
He watches Rogers, finds him living with a guy that gives James a headache who is apparently his soulmate (and that hurts like hell, but he doesn't know why), and he seems really, honestly, happy with his life.
Except when James, or more accurately Bucky, is brought up. Then it's sadness and brooding and jutted jaws and snappy words and-
He was happy. James screwed everything up just by his mere presents.
He doesn't want Rogers to be unhappy. He doesn't know why, but this is important.
So he leaves.
. . .
James goes on a little self discovery trip. Travels around, tries to figure out just who he is, who Rogers is to him and he to Rogers. No matter where he goes, he's always drawn back to New York. Brooklyn, to be more specific.
Everywhere he turns there is another memory: an image in his head overlapping with the one before him. It hurts, but that's probably a good thing.
. . .
Then a robot corners him, only it's not a robot.
It's Steve's soulmate.
James kinda hates 'im on principle.
"Hey," the soulmate says, "You are. Really hard to track down, you know that?"
James says nothing.
"Right, well. Steve is really torn up about you, and it's getting annoying, so you're gonna come with me. Fair warning, I kinda hate you for Jarvis, but Steve loves you, and I love him, so I'll just have to look past it –why are you just standing there? We're leaving, like, now. C'mon!"
Does this guy ever shut up?
James weighs his options, if it would be worth it to run. On one hand, he doesn't want to go with this man, on the other, if he did run he would most likely be pursued, which could end in a fight. He doesn't want to hurt Steve's soulmate, even if he really, really does.
He goes.
"Please don't tell me you're going to be this broody all the time. You're gonna make Steve cry!"
(He really, really does.)
. . .
Steve does cry, but it's tears of joy, James can tell, and somehow hugging happens.
Steve thanks his soulmate, Tony, for 'bringing him home' even though it was James who decided to come.
. . .
They talk. Well, Steve talks, though it's more like gushes about 'Tony'.
When he's not trying to jog memories with stories of their past, that is. James is okay with that, though. Sometimes he even remembers some things.
But the stories always turn back to Tony and Bucky kinda wishes he would just shut up already, about that stupid kid!
He freezes. He had just thought of himself as 'Bucky'. It feels like a milestone.
He doesn't say anything. Steve continues on, clueless.
. . .
He doesn't see much of Tony, even though they live in the same Tower. Steve brushes it off, says Tony just spends a lot of time in his lab, but Bucky knows when he's being avoided.
As much as he doesn't like the guy, he was Steve's soulmate and he didn't want to be at odds with the kid. He didn't want to make Steve choose between them.
Because he was pretty sure Steve wouldn't choose him.
. . .
He turns the tables and corners the kid when he sneaks into the kitchen to scavenge for food.
"Why are you avoiding me?"
"Son of a bitch! I have a heart condition, you asshole!"
Bucky waits for his answer, completely undeterred by the extravagant gestures of the other man.
"…What?" He asks after a minute.
Bucky refrains from rolling his eyes. Barely. "Why are you avoiding me?"
"I'm not." He hedges.
"Liar."
Tony sighs and shifts a little, looking uncomfortable, "Look, I'm sorry. I just." He looks away, "I don't know if you remember, or if you even care, but you kind of killed my parents, and I'm trying not to be pissed off, because you're Steve's friend, and he's the closest thing I've ever really had to a dad-"
What.
"-Besides Jarvis, but I still can't look at you without seeing their dead faces, so yeah, I'm avoiding you, but I'll get over it, seriously, but please don't tell Steve! It will kill him to think that I don't like you, and I don't want to hurt him, and I don't think you want to hurt him either, so-"
"Do you ever shut up?" He doesn't mean to say it, it just comes out, because 'dad?' what the hell?
He immediately feels like an ass when the kid's mouth snaps shut with an audible 'click'.
After a brief silence, Bucky sighs, "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at ya."
Tony half shrugs but doesn't say anything, eyes locked somewhere behind Bucky's head.
Biting back another sigh, he asks "What do ya mean by 'dad', anyway? I thought you two were soulmates?" It comes out more bitter than he intended, with a heavier accent then he remembers having, and by the looks of it Tony hears it too.
His eyes widen and he makes an 'oh' face, before gaining a smirk, "Is that what you've been so pissy about? And don't try and deny it, I watch all of your and Steve's less personal interactions-"
What?!
"-So I would know how cold you've been toward him, even if he hadn't told me-"
Way to kick a guy when he's down.
"-and to answer your question, me and Steve are completely platonic. Queer-platonic, to be exact. He's my zucchini and I love him, but that's about as far as it goes, considering I've been seeing him in my dreams since I was a baby, and anything more would be really awkward, trust me-"
There's a story somewhere in there.
"-So, uh, yeah." Tony suddenly seems very awkward, "I know you don't have a soulmate- You don't right?! Cause if you do, just say so and I'll go pick them up, seriously-"
"I don't." He was starting to get a headache.
Tony blinks then winces, "Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm bad with people I'm not hiding from. So, um, I'm just gonna go…"
He hedges around and Bucky lets him go, watches him leave.
That was. Well, that.
. . .
"Tony said you and him had a talk," Steve says as way of greeting.
Smooth, Rogers.
"Yeah."
Steve bit his lip, "Uh, what did you talk about?"
"You."
Watching Steve twitch a little was almost too much. Still, he remained as emotionless as he could.
"Yeah, and?" He asks.
"And what?"
"And what did you say?" He was getting a little snippy. It was funnier than it should have been.
"I didn't say much at all."
Steve deflates a little with a wince, "Yeah, I get that. Tony kind of steamrolls when he's nervous, so if you don't cut him off he'll talk himself into a fuss. He didn't seem too upset, did he?"
Bucky suppresses a sigh, "He seemed about as fine as to be expected."
"What does that mean? Bucky?" Now he was starting to get panicky. Bucky was starting to get the father-son relationship went both ways, because Steve sounded like a worried parent.
"Well, I did kill his parents."
Steve took on a look of surprise, "Oh, I kind of forgot about that." He says.
Really? Bucky gives him a look.
Steve rolls his eyes, "That's not what I meant, it's just- is he really upset?"
Bucky opens his mouth. Closes it. His brow scrunches together, "I'm not… sure, exactly. Yes?"
"That's fine." Steve says hurriedly, "I understand. Tony is pretty hard to read. I just worry, that's all."
"Because he's your son?" Bucky can't help but ask.
Steve looks a little shocked but answered anyway, "Yeah, Buck, because he's my son. Howard was, well, he was a shit father, and as bad as it sounds, I was glad to see him go. Tony was never really torn up about him, either. It had been Jarvis he was so upset about."
Sounded familiar.
"Yeah, I think he mentioned him."
Steve gave a slightly bitter smile, "Yeah." Then he sighs, "Look, I really hope the two of you can get along, because he might be my soulmate, my son, but you're my best friend, even if you don't remember everything, and I don't want to lose you, either of you. Not because of this."
It's the pleading tone that gets him.
"Fine. I'll talk to him."
The fuckin' punk knows it, too.
. . .
He promised he would talk to the kid, so he will. The thing is, he doesn't know how to approach him.
So he stabs himself in the (metal) hand and claims it was a knife sharpening accident.
Tony doesn't believe him, but doesn't say anything. Bucky thinks the kid falls a little in love with the arm with the eyes he keeps sending it.
Bucky gets introduced to the bots.
The two of them don't actually talk much, but by the end of the day the tension is gone between them.
. . .
"You need to tell him." Tony says, flopping down all over Bucky while he was trying to read.
In the last month the kid has become very touchy.
(Bucky doesn't say anything because Steve always gets this dopey smile when he see it.)
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Liar! Tell him."
"No."
"Oh, c'mon," Tony whines, "I can't tell him, because privacy, but he knows I'm hiding something and he's been getting his 'I'm disappointed in your secret hiding, but I'm going to wait until you say something because I don't want to seem hovering' face. I hate that face."
"Sucks to be you." Bucky drawls, flipping a page of his book.
Tony gapes like a fish for a moment before glaring, "I'm telling him."
Bucky tenses, "What happened to 'privacy'!" He half yells, half squeaks.
"I don't like hiding things from him, and I gave you a chance. Also, you're being a dick, and that just doesn't slide." Tony says, completely serious, "So tell him. Or I will. Your choice."
Bucky grits is teeth and contemplates whether he could console Steve if he 'accidently' kills the brat.
The answer is 'no'.
He sighs, "Fine."
. . .
"Did Tony put you up to this?"
Why is Steve asking that? "Yes."
"Bucky, you don't have to go along with his schemes, y'know." Steve says, sounding disappointed.
What? "I just figured you should hear it from me, not your wayward son of a soulmate."
"That doesn't make any sense, Buck. You could've just told me Tony was being an ass, you don't have to- you shouldn't lie about something like this."
Bucky brow furrows, "Who said it was a lie?"
"I- What? But you just said- what?"
"You okay there, Pal? You're face is doin' something weird."
"I'm fine," Bucky couldn't tell if it was a lie or not. Steve's face had gone oddly blank, "But I'm about to do something that may cross a line."
What-
Bucky lost control of his higher brain function.
Steve was kissing him. Somehow he ended up kissing back.
"My eyes!"
Tony's exclamation makes Steve pull back, looking like he's about to catch fire with how red he is.
Bucky chuckles and. It's the first time he's laughed in a long time. He pulls Steve back in and ignores Tony's gagging noises.
. . .
They somehow end up down in Tony's lab, sitting on the old couch watching Disney movies.
Steve is sitting next to Bucky, arm wrapped around his shoulder, and Tony is splayed across both of them, because he is an attention whore who loves to cuddle.
But it's. Nice. And he's not healed, not really okay, but he's getting there, and that's what matters.
And, looking at the life he has now, with Steve, (and maybe Tony has started to grow on 'im) Bucky thinks, for the first time since he fell from the train, he is entirely content with his life.
. . .
When he sleeps that night, the place he goes to is warm.
. . .
Then he meets the 'Avengers'…
. . .
And there we have it, my lovelies! After this I'll do some occasional small stuff in this universe, maybe add some of the others when I'm done with 'Call it Asunder', but that's it for now.