They still have it, Bucky realized, the silent communication thing between them.
"We have to return the stones in their respective timelines, cut the branches we made," Bruce said, and his eyes fell on Steve with clear decisiveness.
"I'll do it," Steve volunteered, his attention didn't leave Bucky. Watching his reaction, probably.
There was no disagreement that met Steve's claim, and that was it for that issue.
"I'll leave tomorrow," Steve told him later that evening when it was just the two of them.
"I heard. Best of luck."
Steve fell silent, glancing away. His shoulders were tense, and at brief observation Bucky could see hesitation and guilt rolled into one. "I'll be staying there for good."
He was too easy to read.
"I know, buddy," Bucky said and gave a quirk of his lips as if saying he was in on the secret before Steve could elaborate. Because he knew the moment Steve saw for himself what Tony Stark had in the last five years and left behind for the sake of many.
Bucky was aware where the hesitation was coming from. There was no other reason Steve was telling him of his decision once his mission was over.
"You deserve it." Steve deserved to retire in the form of settling down with the woman he loved for decades and make a family for himself.
"But you don't deserve to live alone."
"I won't be. Alone, I mean." It was always about him when it came to Steve's major decisions, one way or another, Bucky thought belatedly. "Maybe it's time I make some connections aside from that scrawny Brooklyn kid and the mouthy pararescue with wings. Don't tell Sam I said that," Bucky added lightly, with the intention of relaxing Steve's features. It did, and Bucky counted it as victory.
For a hundred-year-old soldier, Steve was yet to drop his habit of openly displaying his emotional side in Bucky's presence. Bucky returned the embrace just as tightly, giving the reassurance that it would be okay, that Steve needed not worry for them. For him.
"You can put the shield down now. We'll be fine." I'll be fine.
It wasn't that Steve was easy to read. Bucky was simply that good in understanding him.
The finality of it was more resounding when the evening transitioned to the next day.
It occurred to Bucky that he would be cutting the last remaining tie he has, the one that made him James Buchanan Barnes rather than the Winter Soldier, and oh, it wasn't this difficult last night to say I'll be fine.
He parted with Steve who carried his blessing and good luck that hopefully would stick, Bucky had said, with all the stupid that Steve would bring with him.
Bruce started the time machine, and as Steve waited on the platform, there was an odd expression on Steve's face as Bucky took one last glimpse at him. Neither Bruce nor Sam noticed Bucky committing Steve's face to memory, of suddenly thinking of what-ifs that surely existed out there somewhere with all these talk of branching timelines and alternate realities.
Bucky, against his better judgment, entertained thoughts of what would have happened if he disapproved of Steve staying in the past where he would be making another offshoot in time; what would have happened if he reminded Steve of Sharon, wherein now they could freely be together without Steve's responsibility and status as a fugitive weighing heavily on them; if he told Steve that it was alright to hang the uniform, move on from the past that he refused to let go, and start a new life in the present time with the new people he formed relations with.
What would have happened if he was honest to himself, at least, and admitted that, yes, Steve has always been more than just a best friend that their time dictated he could only be to another man he would lay down his life for.
Bucky turned his back to the longest five seconds of his life.
"Bucky."
Bucky inhaled… exhaled. "Hey," he breathed. Steve was really here, in the flesh, like it was truly a mere five seconds. As if he hadn't talked about leaving permanently the night before. "Thought I'd seen the last of you."
"I could say the same," Steve said, sounding almost sheepish, accompanied by his hand scratching the back of his head. Bucky frowned; Steve's shield was missing. "Sam has the shield," he said, seemingly reading Bucky's mind. "It's his now. I know it's not the same as what you said, about laying it down. Merely passing it to another equally worthy."
"Oh." But Steve remained here in the present despite giving the shield away. "Got cold feet?" Bucky attempted to sound casual else he would… would what, exactly?
"I thought so too, but not really," Steve told him. He stood firmly in his position, somehow afraid to make a move forward. "Can I tell you something?" He gestured at the bench by the lake. A secluded place.
Bucky couldn't help the snort but followed nonetheless. "You never asked."
"Feels like I should for this," Steve said with all seriousness. "I might have been hasty last time."
The space between them were less than earlier, though the confusion wasn't. Bucky observed him and noted the minute changes in Steve's demeanor: that openness that was more distinguishable now, the line of his shoulders that were seemingly freed of their burden, and that clarity in his eyes like he had been enlightened on something.
It was five seconds here, to them, but not to Steve. It might have been years, in fact, and Bucky wondered what happened then.
"I met Nat, you know," Steve began. "I told her who I am, and we became friends, again. She has been of great help, and when it was time for me to leave, I told her of my plan afterwards. She bid me farewell, and my last memory of her was us parting as close friends.
"I got back to when I last saw Peggy. I was ready and excited to rush to her that I almost forgot that another me was also there." He chuckled. "I waited for the other Steve to leave, but as I waited, I had a moment of cold feet. And just when I thought I gathered my nerves, three people came in, a man and two children," Steve paused, and that was the confirmation Bucky needed on his guess who those three people might be. "It was Peggy's husband and two children, Buck. She was happy, and she loved her husband dearly, as far as I could see.
"I was then reminded of my encounter with Nat and how that showed that I wasn't all about that clinging to what had already passed. I couldn't change her death, and so I settled for what I should have done instead: get closure. I had to do the same with Peggy, because while I might still be in her mind, but I was no longer a part of her life. She moved on, and you know what? I'm happy for her that she did. I could see it now why she passed away without regrets."
And what was Bucky to say to that kind of earnestness? To that selfless attitude that won him over for longer than he remembered?
The space between them remained, and Bucky could have edged closer himself or asked or pulled Steve closer. Instead there was a hand, Bucky's, that sat on the spot until it got entwined with Steve's, tough and calloused fingers lacing together, and it was as easy as that. For two hands that knew guns and a shield, they were tender and full of unexpressed fondness.
"I'm glad that I had an epiphany in time."
Bucky was, too. For Steve, and for the second chance he was willing to have here in the present. With his friends. With him.
"Thank you," said Bucky simply.
"Not going to complain that sounds cheesy?"
"At least you didn't outright say that your future is here, with me."
Steve's eyes lit with mirth, and for a second Bucky thought he would burst out laughing. He didn't, but there was an affectionate smile there. "My future is here with you." Steve tightened his hold. "With this."
Look at this old man trying to be smooth. They were too old for this, for the butterflies in the stomach and the speedy heartbeat. "You're right. That is cheesy."
Bucky squeezed Steve's hand. They would be fine.