after the events of Black Panther; Bucky found refuge in Wakanda while Steve is out doing whatever it was he was doing before Infinity War?
The gleeful shouts of children playing outside woke him. Blinking against the warm sunlight filtering through the small windows of his hut, the former soldier stirred in the covers, clumsily pushing himself up. Even though he had been without the prosthetic arm for a while, he still needed some time to adjust to the lack of balance, especially in the mornings. He sat on the side of the bed, running fingers through his long hair before getting up to the small sink in the corner of his room. A dirty mirror showed him the image of a man that he didnt quite recognize. The messy hair that reached his shoulders, the untamed beard, his eyes haunted from a past he struggled to forget. He didnt look like a soldier anymore, that was a relief. The man splashed a hadnful of cold water in his face, watching the drops run over his face. Like that made any difference. He glanced at the shaving knife on the small shelf next to the sink. Every now and then he kept his beard from getting too wild and his hair from getting too long. He had considered shaving it off completely. But it scared him. The thought of looking in the mirror and seeing a reflection so close to the one he used to see 70 years ago ... see the same young face and military hair cut and not recognizing himself, it would break him even more. To be reminded of what he had lost, what Hydra had taken from him.
Outside, the children had become quiet, whispering. He could sense their movement close to the door, could feel the stares as the bravest of the group tried to sneak a look at the strange visitor. The White Wolf, they called him. Something about the man in the hut seemed to fascinate them, yet they never asked questions, only watched and waved and smiled. A busy shuffling and the following excited mumbling told him they had been satisfied with what they saw. He wondered what that was. A fallen warrior or an exciled criminal? Did he himself know?
Bucky took a deep breath and pulled the curtains shut to get dressed for the day. Somehow, he felt skinnier, weaker, but in a good way. He doubted the serum was wearing off, maybe it was just the illusion of the loose clothing that hung of his shoulders, concealing the muscular figure underneath. He took care to hide the stump of his arm to avoid scaring the children away.
Outside, his herd of goats was waiting patiently for their breakfast. They were the only company he had most of the time. The White Wolf's days consisted mainly of caring for them or helping the nearby farmers with their crops, occasionally he'd take a walk through the area, watching the wild life, just feeling the sun on his skin.
And so he went on with his day as he had the past months, trying to get lost in work, trying to have a purpose in caring and protecting for something. No matter what he did, Bucky couldnt shake off the feeling of emptiness in his chest. Like stumbling through the dark, trying to find something to hold on to. Shuri's medication helped with the nightmares, but even in his dreams, he never felt at peace.
He knew why. He longed for those nights he had spent in the shabby bedroom, drifting in and out of sleep as they tried to find a way to ease his mind, it was horrible but at least he hadn't been alone. Steve had been there. Holding him close, whispering words of encouragement and consolation. He had kissed him. Only on the forehead, in a moment of deepest sympathy and probably only half awake. But still, the moment had burned itself into Bucky's memory, the gentlest, softest gesture, and he held on to it whenever he was scared to lose himself.
He had hoped Steve would stay with him, they could hide in Wakanda, stay here forever with the goats and the crops and the laughing children outside. But for his friend, the battle wasn't over. He had left, haunted and broken, disappeared on a nameless mission. Captain America had died the moment his shield hit the ground next to Stark. Now, Shuri called him the Nomad. Always wandering, looking to find a purpose. It broke Bucky's heart to see him tear off the silver star on his chest and wipe the white-and-red striped off the armour. Everything Steve Rogers had believed in, had thought worth fighting for. Now he was a criminal, exiled and disgraced. A patriot without a country. Steve had promised to be back, to send a message every now and then, to make sure Buck was okay. But it had been months and no word. No sign of him anywhere.
The sun stood high up in the sky by the time the chores around the hut where done. The children had gone home to rest and Bucky retreated in the shadows of the narrow trees, wiping sweat of his brows. When had he become so gloomy? Always lost in thought, longing for things to change. The main city was gleaming in the distance, the light reflecting off the metal and glass of the modern buildings. Bucky could've lived there, Shuri had offered a place inside the palace for him, alongside a new arm, even a job somewhere in the guard, patrolling the streets of the city or the borders of the country. He had declined all of it politely, saying that all he wanted was a quiet place to rest, to live in peace some place where he couldnt hurt anyone, where he would be safe from his own mind.
Movement in the sky caught his attention, a flicker in the air and the silhouette of a jet, moving towards the palace. Could it be? He daren't get his hopes up again, only to have them crushed once again. Anyone can come here, Wakanda was open for collaboration with the rest of the world now. But what if it was-? His heart heavy with worry, the White Wolf got up and disappeared into his home, rushing to grab fresh clothes and wash his face, trim the beard, comb his hair, just in case... It wasn't so much about looking like he didnt live in a tiny shack herding goat, he just didn't want to look like he was lost or broken, didnt want his friend to worry...
Just as he finished wrapping a new scarf over his shoulder, there was a knock on the door. Bucky's heart jumped, beating against his ribs as if it wanted to escape. "Come in." His voice sounded steady, thank god. The door opened with a creak and the silhouette of a soldier appeared, outlined against the bright sunlight outside. The Nomad entered the room, closing the wooden door behind him. The name made even more sense now. His armour was dark and torn, the gold blond of his hair had turned dusty and a beard hid his elegant features. There was something wild and untamed about him.
But he had come home.
"Steve ... ?" Bucky whispered hoarsely. He cleared his throat. "You, ehr, stole my look."
Steve grinned and shrugged. "Felt like I needed a change."
They stood, staring awkwardly, watching the dust and sand fly through the air.
"How have you been?" Bucky asked, gesturing to the edge of the bed as he sat down, the only place to sit in the shack aside from the sink. Hesitantly, Steve followed the invitation and sat down next to him, staring at the ground. "Lost." He admitted, "Found traces of a Hydra splinter group, tracked them all way to Norway but the trace ends there. Basically, I have nothing. So I came back, to make sure you're safe."
He saw the look on his friends face and shook his head determently. "Don't look at me like that, I dont regret what I've done one bit, you know that!"
The men sat in silence for a while, unsure what to say, words unspoken hanging in the air between them.
"I've remembered things", Bucky said softly, "or at least I think they're memories." He cocked his head to the side. "Did we dance? On a rooftop?" Steve laughed and nodded, "Yeah, we did! You were teaching me how to dance so I could ask a girl out for that ball you dragged me into. And yet, every girl I asked wanted me to introduce them to you." His eyes glistened with amusement as Bucky furrowed his brows. "So, I was ... I had many ... girls?" The thought confused him. He could barely remember any of them. "I don't know, I guess so? At least you loved to boast with the attention you got. Always tried to share but who would ever choose the scrawny kid next to the handsome soldier?" I would have, Bucky realized, because that kid was the bravest man I ever knew.
"Did you ever fall in love again? After Peggy Carter." He hadnt thought about how long they'd both been in the ice, but it occurred to him that Steve must've been able to see her again, years later as an old woman. How that must've pained him.
"I tried to." Steve said softly. "But it never felt right. Not for her sake, she got married, had kids, she was over me, I know, but ... I never felt like anyone completed me that way..." There was a strange look on his face as he stared into the distance, eyes unfocused, lost in thought as a confused smile across this lips.
It was in that moment that James Bucky Barnes realized something: Steve Rogers was undeniably beautiful.
The realization was almost painful. His chest felt like it was going to explode. And just like that, everything started to make sense.
"Steve. I think I'm in love with you." Bucky breathed, shocked at his own words, his heart skipped a beat. Their eyes met in the deafening silence.
Hesitantly, Steve reached out, his hands gently brushing the long hair from the other man's face, his head cocked to the side in slight confusion, as he traced the shape of his jaw with his thumb. He held his gaze fixed on the dark eyes, trying to hold on to the thoughts rushing through his head, the storm of emotions that washed over him, guiding his fingertips over the soft skin of his best friend until they locked in the thick dark hair, gently pulling his head towards him.
Inhaling sharply, the men moved forward, their lips meeting, tentatively locking into a shy kiss. The tension seemed to crumble away in the gentle touch, the world around them disappearing as they kissed again and again, carefully, hesitantly, neither one prepared for the longing they felt.
His hand shaking, Bucky buried his fingers in the trangled, dusty hair, pressing his forehead against Steve's, their lips still touching softly. He felt the fabric around his shoulder losen, his lover's fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone, along the scar of his arm, down over his chest, where it rested, flat against bare skin, feeling the heart beat racing.
Bucky pulled back slightly, gliding his hand against the thick fabric of the dusty armour. Chuckling, he ran his fingertips over the chest, shaking his head.
"I have no idea how to open this." He announced.
Steve laughed softly. His hands moved over the heavy piece, losening it with practised movements, shrugging it off and letting it glide to the floor with a heavy thud. "Takes practise." He murmured. A soft tug pulled him into the bed, the two men rolled over the sheets, lips locking more passionately now, tongues tracing each other's mouths eagerly. For a moment, their worries where forgotten, their past didnt matter, lost in the moment, hands exploring the warm soft skin, following the lines of muscles and bones. The world seemed to stand still. A soft moaning escaped their lips as desire took them by surprise.
Bucky took Steve's hand, pulling away from the kiss. "Are you sure?" He asked hoarsely, aware of where this would lead. Steve blinked, panting, confusion setting on his face. "What are we doing, Buck?" he said, looking down on their tangled bodies, drawing a shaky breath.
"Do you want to stop?" He asked softly.
Steve shook his head. "No, I don't want to, but ... I just can't ... I've never..." He blushed.
"It's okay," Bucky whispered, pulling his lover close to his chest, holding him tight. "We can just stay like this forever."
He stroked his back reassuringly and softly kissed his forehead, smiling.
"I'm hopelessly in love with you, Buck." Steve said hoarsely.
He let the thought sink in and smiled.
to everyone who expected smut, I sincerely apologize, I don't think we're really there yet
