Full summary:

This is an alternate universe set in modern times and without any super soldiers. Bucky was lost as sea in a navy accident. He left his meager estate to his best friend Steve. Steve used that to fund the surgery that fixed his severely curved spine, allowing him to work out and become healthy for the first time in his life. He is grieving for Bucky as he tries to move forward with his life. In a chance meeting, he encounters a merman off shore that turns out to be Bucky, or what is left of him.

Bucky is lonely, starving, and grieving for the life he lost. Steve is determined, optimistic, and hell-bent on finding Bucky again. Sound familiar?

Inspired by and sequel to What Would I Give by MostFacinorous on AO3. Written with MF's permission.

I can't explain exactly what grabbed me about this alternate universe Bucky and Steve, but it did, and it didn't let go. Be aware, that original story contains a mature (graphic) depiction of their relationship. I don't personally much care to read or write that level of detail in sex scenes, but the character interaction made skimming those parts and reading the rest well worth my time. (I have nothing against detailed smut, mind you, it's just not my thing.) I asked about a sequel and was given permission to write it myself.

And then my head exploded with even more ideas.

I have managed to get the characters to a point where I am (for now at least) happy to leave them where they are. I have a much longer story line sketched out, but it doesn't have to be told so much that my muse is hauling me away from the other stories I'm working on. Steve and Bucky have hope and plans for making their way forward. They have a lot of issues to work out and a lot of healing to do, but they're on the right track. I'm okay leaving them here, firmly on the path to a happily ever after. And since they're celebrating Christmas, I figured I may as well get this out there for the rest of you to enjoy. It's firmly planted in PG-13 land with far more implied than outright stated. You can fill in the blanks as you wish. If the muse ever insists I write more, I'll add it on to what's here.

"I'm an idiot," Steve though to himself as he adjusted the huge duffel slung over one shoulder, grabbed the handle of the other bag again, and trudged along the nearly-empty beach. He'd come here straight from the airport without even bothering to stop at a hotel or find a restaurant. The meal on the plane had been typical airline fare and was really best forgotten. The beaches in Rio seemed to be endless. All he had to guide him was a fleeting trace of a shared memory. An image of a canoe shaped rock not far from the freeway was what he was searching for. He'd let himself believe it would be easy to find. But now, after a half hour of trudging along the beach he had been sure was the right one, he was starting to lose faith. His fatigue and increasing hunger did nothing to help his mood.

A rational person would have stayed home. Where Bucky was concerned, he was clearly anything but rational. Five years of grief followed by a handful of short visits had forever banished rational from his vocabulary. The first visit had been a one-sided conversation, establishing that Bucky was not dead, but had been transformed into a merman against his will. The second visit had occurred in the frigid fall waters off the rocky coast of Maine. Steve had risked hypothermia to spend time in the water with Bucky and ended up scaring his friend away when he'd suggested Bucky join him on shore. A peace offering of fish and a heartfelt apology lead to plans for a picnic by the sea… where Bucky had revealed the terrible truth: his voice was a deadly weapon, luring any human to hear it to their death as they were driven mad by lust, drowning in their attempts to satisfy a most primal urge. Bucky had chosen to isolate himself completely, first from the merpeople who had lured him to dive overboard, then from the human race he had once been a part of.

A chance meeting with Steve had changed that. After five years of grieving, he'd been willing to do anything to spend time with Bucky. It was his panic at Bucky's departure for warmer waters that finally prompted Bucky to speak. Unlike the others, Steve had heard his voice and was still alive. Bucky had made love to him in the cave he called home, then taken Steve back to shore before hypothermia set in. The next evening, they'd hastily agreed to have Steve meet him in Rio de Janeiro sometime over the Christmas holiday, assuming Steve could get time off of work and find his way to the meeting place. There had been no time to plan it better. Bucky had to head to warmer waters if he were to find enough food to survive the next few months.

And so Steve had planned and dreamed and imagined his way through fall and early winter, only to find himself trudging along an endless beach in a different hemisphere, lugging nearly a hundred pounds of gear, hoping and praying that he'd be lucky enough to find the rock before it was too dark to see.

Exhausted, disheartened, and questioning his sanity, he finally let the bags fall to the sand and sank to his knees in the fading light. The only comfort was that he was alone where no one could see him. He doggedly ignored the growing knot in his gut that reminded him that being alone on a deserted beach in a foreign country was not the smartest thing he'd done. His two-piece rash guard was black, letting him blend with the coming night. Sand had gotten into his shoes and had become increasingly irritating to the tender skin of his feet.

He choked on a sob. So much of his energy had been devoted to getting here he hadn't really thought about what he'd do if he didn't immediately find Bucky. He had to keep moving. Surely the stupid rock was just ahead. If he could just keep walking, he'd find it.

A familiar whistle broke the silence and he jerked his head up, searching the waters off shore. "Bucky?" he called softly, wondering if he'd truly lost his mind.

The melodic chip he got in reply sent him running into the surf, his bags forgotten.

Strong arms caught him around the waist as the sandy bottom suddenly dropped away, leaving him thrashing for a moment before he relaxed and let Bucky hold him at the surface. Steve threw his arms around Bucky's neck, not bothering to hide his tears. "You're here. You're really here."

Bucky just held him close and chirped at him again in a way Steve knew indicated amusement.

"Can you really blame me for questioning my sanity a few times?"

Bucky smiled and pushed his long hair out of his eyes, waiting to see what Steve wanted to do. He motioned to the shore where the two duffel bags lay.

"I came straight from the airport. The cave you told me about, is it close?" When Bucky nodded, Steve struck out for shore. "Good. Can you take these there and come back for me? There is stuff inside that's only waterproof to a depth of fifteen feet or so. Is that going to be a problem? If so, we'll need to find a different place to stash it."

With a single pump of his tail, Bucky overtook him and clasped Steve's hand, sending him an image of a comfortable hotel room.

Steve laughed and planted a kiss on Bucky's lips before shaking his head. "I came to see you, not a hotel room. I'm staying with you, Punk. That's one reason why I have so much gear. I have almost two full weeks of vacation to burn and I intend to spend most of that time in your arms. I'll head to the local market in the mornings and pick up food for you so you can take a break, too. This is our vacation and I intend to make the most of it. When I have to go home, you'll be glad to be rid of me."

Bucky shook his head, sending strong feelings of disagreement through their connection.

Steve just laughed. "We'll see what you say in two weeks."

Bucky just rolled his eyes and pointed to the duffel bags.

"You're just as bossy as ever, aren't you?" Steve teased as he swam backwards for a few strokes, eyes on Bucky the whole time as he got closer to shore.

Bucky just thrashed his tail impatiently as he tapped his wrist with the finger of his other hand, pointing to a watch he no longer wore.

The sound of voices made them both freeze before Bucky surged forward to grab his hand. Steve sent an image to Bucky of him running up to shore, grabbing the bags, then darting back into the ocean in time for Bucky to tow Steve and his gear into open waters. Bucky hesitated just a moment, then nodded, pushing Steve in front of him until he was nearly in danger of beaching himself on the shore.

Steve ran for his bags, ignoring the shouts, and dragged them back into the surf, trusting Bucky to be there.

"Breathe," Bucky ordered and Steve obeyed, clasping his Bucky's forearm with his hand and letting himself get pulled under.

There was the sensation of moving quickly as Bucky's powerful tail moved them far off shore. Finally, his head broke the surface and he gulped for air as quietly as he could while he forced himself to tread water.

"Relax, catch your breath," Bucky whispered in his ear as he held Steve from behind.

Steve nodded and let his legs grow still, trusting Bucky to hold him. The sound of Bucky's voice sent a rush of desire through him and he turned in Bucky's arms, kissing him with as much passion as he could manage while still catching his breath. He wrapped his legs around Bucky's waist.

"I was hoping to at least make it inside first," Steve teased.

Bucky's laughter was little more than a huff of air across his ear, but it sent joy surging through him to hear it.

"I even brought supplies. No lamp oil this time."

That got him a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, trust me, I brought enough. All my camping gear is in the other bag."

Bucky sent a surge of amusement and laugher through their connection, then motioned for Steve to wait where he was. When he nodded that he was able to tread water quietly and without a mindless drive to follow Bucky, the merman disappeared under the surface, taking Steve's bags with him.

Steve watched the shore warily as he waited, but there was no sign they were being followed. His stomach rumbled in hunger and for a moment, he questioned his decision to dash down here without even stopping for food. He could have brought fish for Bucky, too. He'd been too afraid he wouldn't find him. Discarding uneaten fish would have been too painful, a reminder of his doubts. No, he'd been right to risk hunger, he decided.

A touch on his foot made him flinch and tense up, at least until the hands traced a path up to where his legs joined. Two could play that game. As Bucky's head broke the surface, Steve wrapped his legs around Bucky and let his own hands do some exploring, "Take me home, Buck."

"You're thinner," Steve observed as Bucky lit the small lamp he had stored on a ledge. Bucky's ribs were too visible and it worried him. Unlike his cave back north, there were no books here. Steve wondered how Bucky coped with the monotony of survival.

Bucky shrugged, waving off the concern as he hauled himself up onto the rocky shelf where Steve was sitting. "Long trip."

"Do you have any idea were the fish markets are? I'll get you some food tomorrow morning, first thing."

Bucky nodded, well aware of the effect even two words had on Steve, and looked away.

"What is it? You having second thoughts about us?" Steve asked, reaching out for Bucky's hand as he stretched out in the seaweed bed.

"You deserve better than this," Bucky said softly, his face hidden behind a curtain of damp hair.

"So do you. But I'll take this over thinking you were dead. I brought a few things for you that should make this easier for both of us. But it's only Christmas Eve and if you don't get over here and make love to me right now, I'm going to make sure you get nothing but coal in your stocking." Steve threw a significant glance at Bucky's silver tail and grinned. "I'm not sure what you'd even do with that much coal."

"Jerk," Bucky whispered and finally let Steve pull him down to lie beside him.