A/N: So, after killing Tony for his birthday, I've decided to do this for Steve's. I think I have a really great grasp on the whole birthday presents concept, don't you?
Sequel to "What We Lost".
Warnings: Past/mention of major character death. Grieving. Some very mild self-harm (hot water and overworking).
Summary: The black suit he'd worn yesterday lies crumpled on the floor by the closet, and the workshop is darker than Steve has ever seen it. He needs Bucky.
I own nothing.
Somewhere beyond the sea
Somewhere, waiting for me
My lover stands on golden sands
The sun is almost gone by the time Steve comes back from his morning run, the sky painted with vibrant orange and soft purple, creating a breathtaking swirl of deep colors that the artist in Steve would have appreciated if he noticed at all. The only thing he registers as he slows down to a walk is the way the breeze feels cool and nice against his skin, drying the sweat that clings to him and making him shiver.
He's exhausted. He's drained. He's cold and his muscles burn and he's knows he should be starving, but the thought of food makes his stomach turn, so he pushes that thought aside. Steve is so tired he can barely think straight, but he's glad. This is exactly what he wanted, after all.
Dragging his aching legs towards the private back entrance of the Tower, Steve stumbles into the elevator and pulls his drenched shirt off, crumpling it into a ball. He leans against the cool metal wall and sighs as he closes his eyes, his enhanced senses only vaguely picking up on the subtle movements of the elevator during the smooth ride up to the penthouse.
Steve says nothing as he waits. He doesn't need to. JARVIS seems to knows exactly where he wants to go without prompting, bless his mechanical heart, and Steve is grateful. He doesn't trust himself to talk yet, isn't sure he could have gotten the words out, even if he wanted to. Talking just seems like too much effort, and Steve is so, so tired.
The elevator doors 'ding' as they open with a quiet whooshing sound, and Steve makes his way out without falling over, which is a good sign. He doesn't want to have to call anyone for help. He just wants to be alone, and not think, just for a while. Thinking is too painful right now.
The penthouse is terribly empty when he makes his way towards the master bedroom, staring straight at the door of his destination and stubbornly ignoring the rest of his surroundings. He'd just managed to clear his mind, after all. Letting the memories that lurk around him in, allowing them to drag him down again, that would undo all the effort Steve'd made since he opened his eyes that morning.
The black suit he'd worn yesterday lies crumpled on the floor by the closet, the tie torn to shreds. He remembers how he'd practically clawed it off the moment they came back from the funeral, remembers the way it felt like it was choking him, making him gasp and sob as Bucky finally came to his help and tore it off, pulling Steve close as they cried.
Steve closes his eyes against the sight, forcing his mind elsewhere.
Naked and sweaty and so tired even his bones ache, he steps into the shower and turns the stream to the hottest setting, letting the water cascade down over his body, burn his skin and wipe his mind once again. He hisses at the burn, but doesn't flinch away from it. It helps just as well as running.
It feels good.
He stays there until the water turn cold and the moon is high in the sky, then forces himself out and pulls some soft, comfortable clothes on, some that are fresh and smell like laundry and nothing else. He doesn't know what he'd have done if he accidently pulled one of the shirts he used to steal from Steve, one of the shirts that had his smell, his warmth.
Steve shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts away. He can't think about that. He'd just managed to forget, so he can't. He can't.
He can't.
But the black suit still lies there on the floor, and the memories flood back in despite his best efforts and he can't, he can't, he can't-
He needs Bucky.
His legs hurt and his head is heavy and his heart feels like it's cracking, crumbling, falling to pieces, but he pushes himself forwards and runs towards the staircase down, down, down, where he knows without thinking Bucky awaits.
He stops by the half-open glass doors, looking into the place he had loved the most. It hurts to see it like this - the workshop is darker than Steve has ever seen it, with only a few dim, purple lights to illuminate the corners. It feels empty, lifeless, pointless without the man whose energy could lit up the entire room, fill the silence with loud music and incessant chatter. It's eerily quiet, but still Steve's ears can pick up on the quiet whirring noise that only Dum-E makes. He follows the soft sound, walking past tables and benches and half-finished projects that he had intended to come back and finish, before-
Before...
Steve pushes the thought away again and keeps walking deeper into the darkened lab, until his eyes land on the silent form sitting on the floor with its back to the ratty couch, surrounded by the three unusually quiet bots. The messy mop of long brown hair shields his face as his head rests in the crook of Butterfingers' metal spine, one arm slinging off You's back while Dum-E nudges the metal one that limply lies on the floor beside him. Dum-E beeps sadly when Steve steps into view, the small metal fingers clicking meekly in greeting.
"Buck?" Steve asks, and his voice is a bit scratchy from misuse.
The brown mop of hair shifts a little in acknowledgement, but doesn't do much else to move.
"You're home." Bucky croaks, and his voice sounds even worse than Steve's, hoarse and thick and rough, like there isn't a speck of energy still left in him.
"Yes." Steve mumbles back, and You moves aside so that Steve could sit down beside him, then wheels back to tuck itself against the blond's side, its head nudging Steve's shoulder. It's surprisingly comforting, so Steve doesn't push You away and instead reaches up to pat its spine slowly. "What are you doing down here, Buck?" Steve asks quietly. Bucky shrugs, but lifts his head so he could look at Steve with his moist blue eyes before shuffling closer to press against him.
"The bots were lonely." He says simply, but Steve hears all the other things he doesn't.
'I was lonely'.
'They miss him.'
'I miss him.' Steve hears, and he feels the same with the burning in his bones and the pain in his chest.
'This is where I can pretend it didn't happen.'
'That's why you came here, too.'
And it's true. Steve knows it's true, now that Bucky had given voice to the thoughts Steve hadn't realized were running through his mind.
This place, this workshop, this is their place. This is his place, and this is where Steve can close his eyes and pretend that nothing had changed. That in just a few seconds he would open his eyes and he would walk in with a steaming mug of coffee in his hands and grease stains on his his cheek, rambling about one project or the other as if picking up from an earlier conversation that none of them can remember having.
It makes his heart ache with so much longings and the grief he can't bear it, his chest tightening with what he knows would soon be tears that he wouldn't be able to stop. So Steve buries his face in Bucky's shoulder and inhales deeply, letting his warm scent of caramel and motor oil surround him and drown out all of his other senses, just for a little while. And Bucky seems to need it just the same, as he presses closer, one metal arm coming up to grab Steve's hand and squeeze.
"JARVIS?" Bucky calls softly after a long moment of silence, rubbing his thumb over the back of Steve's hand. "You there, pal?"
"Yes, Sergeant." JARVIS' reply is almost immediate, but it lacks its usual edge of almost-snark Tony Stark's most treasured AI tended to have with his master and his two partners. "Always. How may I be of help?"
"I just..." Bucky starts, but pauses, and realizes that really, he doesn't know why he wanted to hear that mechanical voice so bad. He sighs, and shrugs heavily, knowing JARVIS could see him from that tiny red dot of light above them, and he knows he would understand. "I dunno." He admits. Maybe he'd just wanted to check in, make sure he was alright. The two of them are not alone in their mourning. Bucky swallows. "How are you, J?" He finally asks, and tries to ignore the way his voice catches in his throat.
"All of my systems are fully functional, Sergeant." JARVIS says in the same monotonous manner, the kind Bucky can't remember ever hearing before. He doesn't like it at all, missing the color in that voice that could only come from one person.
"That's not what I meant, J." Bucky says gently, metal fingers rubbing over Steve's knuckles as the blond turns his head a little so he could look up at the small red dot as well when the AI doesn't reply for a long time, his brow pinched with concern.
"JARVIS?" Steve prompts.
"I assure you I am alright, Sirs." JARVIS says at last, and Bucky can swear he hears an undertone of sadness in the slow, mechanical voice. "Thank you for your concern." JARVIS adds, and his voice is no longer so detached or blank.
"For what it's worth, J..." Bucky sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose to stave off the sting he can feel building behind his eyes. "For what it's worth... I, I'm sorry." His voice cracks.
"We tried," Steve whispers as he moves up and pulls Bucky into him, and his chest feels so tight he can hardly breathe. "We tried, b-but-"
"It's alright, Captain, Sergeant." JARVIS says quietly, almost melancholically. "I know you have, and I know for certain Sir knew it as well."
Bucky makes a noise that cracks Steve's heart a little more, and he feels the fabric over his collarbone dampen as Bucky shakes in his hold, metal hand clenching into a tight fist on the floor. He takes a shuddering breath and looks up, his eyes stinging with hot tears he can't hold back.
"J?" Steve asks shakily.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Can you show us... something? Anything?"
"It will be my pleasure, Sir."
The dark lab is suddenly washed with pale blueish light as a hologram springs to life in the middle of the room, different than any of the usual holo screens he's used to seeing. It is one of the newest inventions, one that could make life-sized images out of pure, pale light come to life. There are three of them there, taking shape and looking as real as any human can, with only the faint glow of their form giving away their true nature. Steve lets out a soft gasp and Bucky shifts his head to watch as well as three glowing forms morph in front of them, standing so close to each other they almost seem as one.
Steve recognizes this. The plaid shirt he'd chosen that night that Tony couldn't stop teasing him for wearing, the bottle of Asgardian wine Bucky'd convinced Thor to bring, the old turntable in the corner, crackling with the spinning of a thick vinyl record, playing a song he hadn't heard for so long.
That night was the night of the first birthday he'd ever celebrated with his two partners, the night he finally got to have that dance that he longed for, wished for. They were the right ones, after all, and that night was all the proof he ever needed.
"C'mon, Capsicle, don't just stand there like a block of ice, move your hips!" The amused voice echoes strong and sure, and it is as if he was standing right beside them, spinning into view, black and gray vest over a blue shirt, brown eyes sparkling with mirth as calloused hands are reaching down to grab both of Steve's. "Buck, help me with him."
The two men on the floor watch with two pairs of wide, wet blue eyes as the hologram of Bucky Barnes laughs heartily and sneaks an arm around Tony's waist, kissing behind his ear before reaching his other arm to grab Steve as well.
"You should listen to him, y'know." Bucky echoes, pulling Steve against him and grabbing his hand, shifting them into the right pose for a waltz. "He's pretty smart. He knows what he's talkin' about."
"Aw, Buck, you're gonna make me blush."
"You two are going to drive me insane." The glowing form of Steve huffs with a roll of his eyes, but the corner of his lips is twitching into a barely contained smile, which doesn't go unnoticed by the other two as Bucky grins widely and leads Steve in a few simple steps to the faint music the two on the floor can barely hear. It takes exactly a whole minute before hologram-Tony whines about feeling left out and squirms his way between them, grabbing Steve by his waist and leaning back into Bucky's hold, swaying his body a little in an excuse for a dance. Bucky laughs again and Steve chuckles fondly as he shakes his head, then leans down to plant a kiss onto Tony's lips, and reaching a hand around him to pull Bucky down for another.
"This isn't much of a dance anymore," Tony comments as they don't do much but sway on the spot to the music, but he doesn't seem to care enough to do something about it, content with simply staying squashed between his two huge soldiers. Hologram-Steve shrugs with a smile.
"I think it's perfect."
On the floor, the two flesh and blood soldiers sit frozen, still holding onto each other with a grip strong enough to bruise as they watch the scene they remember so well unfold, and the image in front of them makes it painfully obvious how there is a terribly large hole where the missing part that should be there, squeezed between them, is supposed to be, the part that make their balance perfect and their hearts whole. They will never be three again, Steve knows, and holds tighter onto Bucky's trembling shoulders, as if pressing as close as they can could make up for the empty void Tony had left between them.
"Happy birthday, Stevie." Hologram-Bucky kisses the glowing blond, and Tony smiles as well, his grin wide and full of teeth as he nods and stands on his tiptoes to kiss them both as well.
"Happy birthday." He whispers too.
They keep swaying slowly to the music, spinning a little from time to time or shifting position so they could share soft kisses and goofy smiles as they dance. Tony is unusually quiet. He refrains from making too many jokes or teasing any of his men, as if he seems to sense that this is important, that this will become one of their cornerstones, one of those moments that will forever be carved into their memories, moments that define them as lovers, partners, friends.
Dum-E makes a small beeping noise and whirrs a little, catching Steve's attention for just long enough to offer a clean piece of cloth it had pulled from one of the cupboards, giving up on the attempt to wipe Steve's face on its own. Bucky lets out a wet chuckle when Steve winces but thanks the bot with a pat and a shaky smile, and snuggles against the blond as he rubs his own hand over his red-rimmed eyes.
"I loved that day." Bucky murmurs softly, still watching the three glowing forms sway a few feet from them. Steve nods, clearing his throat from the thickness of tears.
"Yeah," He whispers back, quiet, as if he's afraid of scaring the image away.
They watch the three dance for a while longer, and the song changes into something slower, making the glowing forms press even closer together, intimate and warm. Tony tucks his head into hologram-Steve's neck, and Bucky's chin comes to rest on top of the engineer's shoulder as his arms sneak around his waist, shining blue eyes looking up over the shorter man, locking onto similar blue ones.
The three stay this way even as the music fades and they don't need to move anymore, and then they stop altogether, frozen in their embrace as JARVIS pauses the scene, startling the two grieving men from the spell they'd fallen under.
Bucky clears his throat and shifts a bit away, trying to sit up and wipe his face on his sleeve without jostling Butterfingers too much. Not ready to let go yet, not ready to lose the contact he desperately needs, Steve follows Bucky's movements, seeking his warmth, and leans against him again. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, pressing his face into Bucky's shoulder.
"What do we do now?" Steve asks brokenly as the still image quietly crackles with static, his head resting on Bucky's shoulder, eyes closed against the sight. Bucky doesn't answer for a long time, damp eyes still locked onto the frozen image floating in front of him.
When he finally does, it's quiet, breathy and soft, lips trailing the words over the fine blond hairs of Steve's temple.
"We do what he always wanted us to do, I guess." Bucky whispers, and Steve presses closer. "We find a way to be happy."
"...I don't know if I can do that." Steve answers just as quietly, honest and raw and painfully open, because imagining himself moving on is something he doesn't think he can ever do, not even with Bucky by his side.
"Neither do I." Bucky swallows, eyes trailing back to the floating image and the soft smile Tony still wears, squeezed tightly between their own holographic bodies. That rare smile, the one no one but them will ever see, the one he'd used to save just for them. Bucky watches it and he knows. Whatever happens, however hard this will turn out to be, he knows they have to try. So he tells Steve, and swears to himself they will do it, however long this will take, together. "But I have to try. For Tony."
A small sniffle escapes Steve as he curls against Bucky, because he knows nothing can stop Buck when he sets out to do something. And he hopes, that maybe Bucky, with his fierce determination and his bleeding, kind heart, would find it within himself to allow Steve to tag along for the ride. Because on his own, he can't.
And If Bucky could have heard his thoughts, Steve knows he would have smacked him across the head for thinking he would have left him behind, but then he would have kissed him and called him a punk. That thought alone is almost enough to make the painful ball of sorrow in the pit of his stomach lessen a little, and suddenly, it feels like he can breathe a little easier. It's going to be hard, Steve knows, but he can do this. He still has Bucky.
A sad, shaky smile twitches over Steve lips as he opens his eyes to watch the still hologram that crackles in front of them, and he lifts a hand and waves it a little to make the show run again. None of them cares that there are a few new tears that escape as they watch the way hologram-Bucky pulls Tony closer, making Steve stumble over his feet and Tony laugh, the sound warm and fond and so wonderfully happy as he reaches back to pull the glowing Steve in as well, planting a messy kiss over his lips. They can fight the pain another day. Today, they embrace it.
The Steve on the floor smiles through his tears.
"For Tony." He whispers, and he knows then with full certainty, that with Bucky beside him and with those precious memories of one wonderful man in his heart, it can happen. They can find a way to be happy again, if that's what Tony wants them to do.
Someday, they will be fine.
We'll meet
Beyond the shore
We'll kiss
Just as before
Happy we'll be beyond the sea
A/N: Happy birthday, Steve.
Song used: Beyond the Sea / Harry James and his orchestra.
(Also, that was the song they were dancing to, if anyone was curious as to what it was.)