Steve had always loved Bucky's voice, it had always soothed him. He loved listening to Bucky talk, even when he was angry. Sometimes especially when he was angry. Bucky's Brooklyn accent always came out thicker when he was angry or upset. That low, smooth drawl was sometimes the highlight of his day.
But most of all, Steve loved listening to Bucky sing. He had an incredible voice. Back before the war, sometimes Steve would be having a bad day. He would trudge home, leftover tension vibrating in his body. But he would find Bucky softly singing to himself as he cooked dinner and the wariness would just fade away.
Bucky would only sing for Steve. Steve had told him many times that he could probably make a career out of it, but Bucky was adamant that Steve be the only one to hear him. Bucky had never explained why. Steve had asked him about it once but Bucky had never actually responded. He had just looked at Steve with a soft, private smile; an unidentifiable emotion lighting up his eyes. Steve had never been able to figure out what that emotion was, although not for lack of trying.
When Bucky came back and started living with the Avengers, Steve wanted to ask him about it. Wanted to ask Bucky to sing for him. He longed to hear Bucky's voice, low and soothing, having the rest of the world just fade away.
But he didn't know if Bucky remembered. Steve didn't think he could handle it if Bucky didn't remember. He was content just to have Bucky back with him, living and breathing. He may not have been able to hear Bucky sing but he still got to hear his voice, and that was enough for Steve.
One day, Steve had just come home from a very tiring meeting with Fury, to find Bucky sitting on their couch with a guitar, strumming a soft tune. Bucky didn't acknowledge Steve, he just kept playing, but Steve knew that Bucky knew he was there. Steve leaned on the doorframe and just watched him. With the light streaming in from the window hitting Bucky's face, he looked the most relaxed Steve had seen him since before the war. As Steve listened he could feel the last of the tension from the meeting, slipping away, leaving a soft feeling of contentment.
After a couple minutes the tune changed and Bucky started to play a song. Steve didn't recognize the song, it must have been from this century, so he listened intently to the lyrics spilling from Bucky's lips.
Oh, I'm yours
Oh, I'm yours
Oh, oh,
Baby, do you believe, I'm yours?
You best believe, you best believe, I'm yours.
As Bucky sang the last verse, he looked directly at Steve, that once unfamiliar emotion filling his eyes once again. This time though, Steve knew exactly what that emotion was. Knew it was reflecting right back in his own eyes.
Quietly, Bucky finished the song and put the guitar to the side. They were quiet for a moment, just staring at each other; then Steve was moving, pushing off from the doorframe and walking over to where Bucky was now sprawled on the couch. He dropped down and straddled Bucky's legs, wrapping his arms around Bucky's neck, playing with the soft hair at the base of his neck. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve's waist and his lips curved into a small smile.
"I'm yours you know, have been since I met you, all those years ago" Steve's voice no more than a whisper. Bucky was quiet for a moment, running his metal fingers through Steve's hair. Steve turned to press a kiss against the warmed metal.
"I know babydoll, I've always known" he whispered back.
"Till the end of the line?" Steve questioned, smirking slightly, he already knew the answer.
"Till the end of the line." Bucky confirmed, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to Steve's lips.
The End
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