A/N: So I'm terrible and this is actually gonna be the last part of the mini-arc I've got going here. The other part I have planned may come later, but it didn't feel right to put next. As usual, sorry for the unforgivable delay, so here's a fairly long chapter!
Oh, and you may find a bit of headcanon in here, complements of one of my wonderful conversations with raleigh-puppy. Just putting it out there.


Bucky'd never been big on flying. Okay, correction: maybe that was kinda a lie, even he'd admit. Not counting the whole time as the Soviet Assassin/ghost/legend when he probably wouldn't've even known he was on one of the damned things, he had liked planes for a while. As a kid, back in Brooklyn and even before the move to New York. Steve'd pretty recently reminded him that his dad was a pilot in the First World War, and Bucky'd vaguely recalled watching all the planes in awe, wanting to be just like his old man. Frankly, he wasn't surprised. Every kid had the right to look up to his father. Bucky might've been frozen for a hell of a long time, but he wasn't that cold-hearted, or at least he liked to think. But then Hitler'd come around and royally crapped up Europe and, well: Second World War.

By that point, Bucky'd somewhat remembered his childhood desire to be a pilot, but then he'd also remembered growing up and realizing he didn't really want to be in a war. He was pretty sure he'd only joined up to keep the stubborn-as-hell little Steve Rogers from joining up himself.

Which had clearly worked well.

Either way, plane rides were the worst kind of hell. Getting shot at, stuck in a steel death trap just waiting to fall to a gruesome death some thousands of feet below - special training shit or not, nobody should like that. Except masochists. Which Bucky swore he wasn't.

But it wasn't just that. Flying had been hell for a while. But, soon as Steve'd turned into Captain freaking America and the Commandos had gotten put together, plane rides weren't quite so bad anymore. Mostly the group of them being a bunch of little shits, laughing and joking, Dugan insisting on calling him Jimmy, and Bucky threatening to punch him in retaliation. Sure, it was ridiculous, and maybe Carter'd yelled at them all more than once (because, for the record, the Colonel was not to know that, maybe, she didn't mind it all that much), but he was sure none of them would've wanted it any other way. Made the War a little easier to deal with.

And now it was all just a memory. Felt like all them should be there, not just him and Steve and Stark. Almost felt like they all were.

Fear and ghosts. Wonderful.

Didn't exactly help the stagnant flow of conversation either. Steve had his own reservations about flying - the big idiot rarely shared them, but Bucky knew better - and it wasn't like they were gonna discuss anything freely with Stark there. Problem was, Stark couldn't handle the silence, started rambling on about mechanical engineering and shit: bunch of words neither of them would've ever understood in this lifetime or the next. Or any lifetime, for that matter. Not that that deterred Stark, the billionaire talking on and on, determined to fill up the entire flight with the sound of his voice. Joy.

At least until Bucky'd decided that half an hour of Stark's commentary on...whatever...was more than enough, and grabbed some movie at random, shoving it into the genius' hands, all but demanding he played the damned thing and shut up before someone ended up accidentally dead. Inevitably, it'd worked. Slight mend in their relationship or not, Stark was still scared of the Winter Soldier, much as he played it off.

But it was still funny, the way things turned out.

Pretty damn ironic, actually.

Because, come on, Bucky'd been brought back into the world, but it didn't mean he'd had endless time to catch up on the last seventy years of pop culture. Natalia'd tried; Steve'd done his best, too, but Bucky was gonna catch up on what he wanted to, and when he damn well pleased.

Turned out, that flight was the perfect time to start.

Because that movie, well - The Hobbit. How the hell'd Bucky never known they'd made this into a movie? 'Cause, stupid thing about his shit memory, important stuff - his parents, his house as a kid - were fuzzy; the entire plot of The Hobbit - perfectly intact.

Honestly, he didn't know what to think of that. Yeah, he'd loved the book as a kid and all, but why? He had to question: did HYDRA think that was some dumb joke?

Not that he questioned it for long. Because the rest of the flight turned into an intense rant session. What the hell? Azog's dead; what's he doin' here? And who the hell are Legolas and Tauriel?! Those aren't characters! That scene's not from the book who made this movie there's not even a plot, dammit!

Stark'd looked somewhat amused and impressed at the start; Steve'd seemed a little glad to see the friend he probably remembered (kinda worrisome though that was, in Bucky's opinion). By the end they both just looked scared. Bucky got the feeling that, by the time they got stateside again, they'd both be trying to hide the book and the other movies from him (because like hell he wasn't gonna watch the first two movies), and advising the others to do the same.

Bucky smirked as he left the plane.

He'd like to see them try.


Really, it was probably something of a relief to Steve and Stark both that the flight had been headed to England, and the fiasco regarding the movies wouldn't immediately become a problem. Because Bucky did have boundaries for himself, and as he carefully hauled his precious cargo off the jet, he made sure to reel it all back in. This trip wasn't for him, after all, and he got that. Hell, he'd set the thing up. Sure, it wasn't really originally meant for Stark either, but he didn't really have the heart to deny the man, not after their little understanding. Although that fact made him hate his moral compass more, in all honesty.

There was a car waiting (because why wouldn't there be; this was Stark, after all), and the ride after was probably short enough, though the minutes stretched long with the sound of idle silence. Unsurprisingly, Bucky made sure he was out first, all but clutching his package to his chest. There were different kinds of silences, and the uncomfortable variety didn't agree with him.

He took in a long breath of cool air. Smelled nothing at all like the bombed out cities he'd gotten far too accustomed to during the War. That was a reprieve, at least. Though the sight of the Home sent an odd feeling through him. Some sort of combination of nostalgia and disbelief. Nostalgia over the fact he was seeing Carter here, and disbelief over seeing the badass, no-nonsense, unstoppable English agent here.

Steve joined him a couple minutes later, Stark being smart enough to give them a couple moments, talking to his driver about something or other. The nervousness was ripe enough as it was.

"You alright, Steve? You've seen her before, right?"

"Why am I not surprised you know that?" Steve chided, but the words held little spirit.

Bucky shrugged. "'Cause you know Natalia."

"Right," Steve let out a lifeless laugh, looking downward.

Bucky fixed his eyes on his friend, studying his features. Honestly, this sort of thing was coming back like second nature. Scared Bucky a bit wondering exactly how often the dumb kid had gotten himself beat up back in Brooklyn. It really was a miracle he himself hadn't already died of a Steve-and-his-stupidity induced heart attack. "Seriously, though. You okay?"

"It's just, everything we missed - or, I missed - and sometimes she doesn't always remember," the blonde glanced back up, delivering a forced smile, as if that could ever fool Bucky, "it's hard, you know?"

"Steve," Bucky laid his right hand on his friend's shoulder, grasping it comfortingly, "you know I know that. Our lives are shit. Everyone we know's got shit lives. I know you and Carter had a thing, but there's nothin' we can do to change what happened. Just gotta make the best of what we've got."

"...You're gettin' wise in your old age."

Bucky used that same hand to push his friend away playfully. "You're just jealous I got both the looks and the brains."

"Very funny."

"I know I am. Thanks for tellin' me again." He smiled more widely, more openly. "Now come on. Gotta be ready for your best girl."

Bucky stepped toward the building, pausing as he noticed Steve's hesitation. He turned back as his friend spoke again. "Thank you, Buck. Really."

The ex-assassin stepped back to the blonde's side. "Thank yourself for reminding me. With you to the end of the line. Never gonna forget that again." He wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulder, ushering him closer to their destination, to Carter. "How 'bout you get ready and I fetch Stark? We'll meet you there." And with a final push, he got Steve going on his own, and, after watching long enough to ensure Steve was serious about this, he set back to Stark, finding the billionaire chatting to his chauffeur, leaning through the passenger side window. "Time to go."

"Now?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "That'd be best, yeah."

"Fine." He tapped the top of the window, walking off casually and pulling his sunglasses over his eyes. "Good talk."

For a couple seconds, Bucky just watched, mulling something over in his head."Hey, Stark." Said man turned around. "Thanks."

"For...what, exactly?"

"Back there, what you did."

"Back where when I did what?"

Bucky shook his head lightly. Ridiculous. He couldn't believe how much he had to put up with when it came to this family. "Talking to your driver. Giving me and Steve a couple minutes."

"Ohhh," he extended the word, "that. Nah, we were just discussing the many benefits of being my chauffeur."

The younger - or older, or, whatever he was - man scoffed. "You're somethin' else, Stark. But - and you know I hate admitting this - you're a good guy. Your old man would be proud."

Tony glanced back, his countenance resembling, for a split second, the kid he'd told Bucky about down in his lab. Almost instantly, he recomposed himself, though the innocent wonder never fully left. "You're not lying to me? Because if you are -"

"I swear. I'd never lie about that sorta thing."

Stark studied him for a while longer, seeking out the lie he'd wholly expected and finding none. He straightened. "Good," was all he said before turning on his heel and continuing on.

Bucky took deep breath himself, then chuckled. His new friends - his new family - they were an interesting bunch. But things had worked out, mostly, for the better.


Honest, Bucky hadn't really known what to expect. He'd learned a little from Natalia, 'cause he knew for a fact he wasn't gonna get much help out of Steve, aside from some vague references to Carter's memory issues. From what he'd got, her condition varied. Some days were good, lucid, and she and Steve could get on and pretend like things weren't the way they were. Then there were the other days, and she'd be surprised to see him suddenly alive after so long, and apparently those were the times Steve came back from his trips just that much more withdrawn from everyone else, at least if he'd heard right.

Bucky really hoped this wasn't one of those days.

First thing he noticed was the smell. Too clean. Reeked of antiseptic and ammonia, or it did to him, at least. Stark didn't seem too bothered by it, though the slight wrinkle in his nose gave it away. Steve was too lost in his own thoughts to even pay it much mind. So Bucky sucked it up, kept walking at Steve's right, forcing himself not to stare at the nurses who let them by without question, rightfully recognizing Captain America and Iron Man.

And trusting them enough to pay no notice to the other guy apparently with them, carrying a package of some kind.

Thank god for that; Bucky wasn't in an explaining mood. Besides, there was only one person he owed that explanation to.

And they were just slowing down outside her room.

As planned, Bucky took his position against the wall at one side of the door; Stark took up a similar position on the opposite side, hidden from the view of anyone inside. Left Steve in charge of opening the door. Maybe a little cruel, if it turned out she didn't remember. But if she did, well, seemed only logical to start off with a familiar face. 'Cause, who knew when she'd last seen Stark, and Bucky had a feeling she hadn't been exactly kept in the loop regarding all of that Winter Soldier crap. Best not to start there. So, Steve it was.

The punk stood there a second, taking in a deep breath, and Bucky laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah...I'll be fine." Bucky didn't push further. He knew the real answer anyway.

"She'll remember," he reassured one last time, the two exchanging a brief smile before the blonde poked his head cautiously into the room. His two shadows waited with baited breath.

"Peggy?"

The split second seemed to hang endlessly in the air, and Bucky swore, it was more terrifying than most of the stuff he'd had to deal with, wars and basically dying included. 'Cause this involved his friend, and his friend's happiness (and maybe sanity). Nothing had ever mattered more than that.

"It's good to see you haven't decided to let me sit here and rot alone." Bucky recognized the wit, the sarcasm, and heaved a sigh. Shit, he'd been scared. Seriously scared. Course there'd been a contingency plan that involved them all hanging around a little longer 'til Steve could explain the story again, but it wasn't like Bucky'd ever been in favor of that one. His friend had been through enough heartbreak; wasn't right for the world to keep piling it all on like it did. Honestly, not like any of them really deserved the hand they were dealt, though. All left a bunch of confused outcasts with screwed up lives.

Eventually, Bucky caught Steve's subtle verbal cue for Stark to enter the room, and the two men outside exchanged a brief glance before the billionaire straightened and strode in with his usual air of confidence, excited greetings of "Aunt Peggy!" and "Tony, it's been so long; oh, look at you!" filling the atmosphere. Which left Bucky entirely alone in the hall, nervously fingering the box in his hands with only the reassurance that it only made more sense to see the son of a friend for the first time in years than a pretty-much-literal dead man. Still, he wasn't a fan of the silence, of the stillness; he'd had more than enough of that for two lifetimes, dammit. That was one nice thing about the Tower; someone was always pissing off someone else; the days - and pretty frequently, nights - were never quiet. Maybe it wasn't Brooklyn, but it was home enough.

He wished he could say it was luck that he happened to pick up his own cue to enter, but, really, he'd probably been through too much training and shit for him to have missed it if he tried. So, a deep breath, and he was turning in, stepping slowly, keeping the metal arm as concealed as possible inside its long sleeve, and consciously reminding himself to raise his eyes, though his chin refused to raise from its position pointing at the floor. A few, painful seconds passed, no one, not even Stark, daring to speak.

Dammit, why'd he have to the one stuck with the awkward silence? Had he really not suffered enough? And for a good seventy years?

There was an almost audible sigh when Carter finally broke the silence. "Barnes?"

"Yes, ma'am." He mentally dared Stark to make some snarky comment about how he'd slipped into his old speech. None came.

"Is that actually you?"

"It is." He had a feeling his past self might given some sort of cocksure smile, or a bow, or something, at least. Not like any of that was comin' back though. Shit, how was it he'd impressed all those pretty dames?

Not that it'd ever worked on Carter, though. According to Steve, he'd tried once and failed spectacularly. So, good thing that really didn't matter all that much. Still, would've helped to be not entirely socially incompetent again.

"So, you're telling me that you fell off that train, made him," she gestured to Steve with her eyes, "attempt to drink himself half to death like an absolute lunatic, and were alive the entire time?"

He shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. And hoping Carter wouldn't see clear through him. "Apparently."

"What is that supposed to mean, 'apparently'? I think I deserve to know how this happened."

"It's a...long story."

"Does it look to you like I'm going anywhere any time soon?"

Bucky looked over at Steve, actually smiling. "I'm remembering now why you liked her so much." Because, really, Carter hadn't changed a bit. Older and maybe her mind wasn't always one hundred percent there, but when it was, almost like not even a day'd passed. As if they'd all survived the War (the normal way, at least) and were all just meeting to reminisce and have a little fun.

Which reminded him…

"Problem is, we're not here for me," he segued, partially just glad he didn't have to explain everything at that moment. 'Cause, no matter how much further in the past it was, or how much he "healed", as Steve liked to say, it wasn't like he'd ever be comfortable with what he did those seventy years. No one should be; anyone who said otherwise was lying their ass off. "I mean," he went on to amend, setting down his precious cargo on a side table, careful all the while to hide his left hand behind the shield of his body. "If you really wanna know," he looked nervously to Steve, who nodded slightly in encouragement, "I guess I can tell you all that later. But for now," he opened the box, carefully extracting the treasure inside, "I think that idiot over there owes someone a dance."

A record player. Complements of Stark, who'd somehow tracked down and bought the thing as soon as Bucky'd mentioned his plans. Where he'd found it, or how much it'd cost, Bucky had no idea, though it wasn't like he hadn't asked. Except all he'd gotten was "not to worry, Buckster. I've got some cash to spend. Might as well save the day with it. You're welcome." Times like those was when Bucky found himself liking the Stark family a little more. Just a little, though.

Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at the opposite side of the room, he found Steve, his arms wrapped gently around Carter's shoulders, guiding her up and supporting much of her weight as he eased her off the edge of the bed, his lips moving ever so slightly in hushed whispers Bucky couldn't hear. Stark was right there, too, hand awkwardly jutted out a little, like he wanted to help but didn't know how.

Well, it was the intention that counted.

Bucky turned back to his own task, reaching into the box again and extracting the black vinyl from its sleeve, fitting it into its rightful place. But before turning on the power and setting the needle on the spinning surface, he looked back again, originally meaning only to see if the two lovers were ready for their dance.

Steve supported most of her weight, though it was clear that Carter was still the one in charge, instructing him on arm position, posture, feet. Things really hadn't changed at all. Bucky grinned in spite of himself, turning back and setting down the needle, letting the slight scratching turn to music.

The trumpet solo blared to life, and Steve's head shot up, seeking out Bucky, who only shrugged a shoulder and let one corner of his lip pull up in response. He could only assume Steve recognized the song; really, he'd be amazed if the punk didn't know it. Came out just the year before he'd gotten his orders, and he'd probably danced to it with quite a number of beautiful dames, but hell if he knew if that was actually true (he only had Steve's account to really go off of, after all). Pretty song, not like those quick swing pieces, and Bucky vaguely remembered the couples getting together for this one, dancing until the very end of the night together, a nice close for the evening. Probably symbolic, with finally finding love, and all that. And something about that just felt right for this, Bucky had to admit, even if he was just working with a few fuzzy memories. Still, he had to feel a little proud about this.

Besides, Steve was sure to get past the initial discomfort. Or, at least, Bucky was gonna make sure of that. Flicking his gaze quickly in Carter's direction, he forced Steve's own eyes back to his girl...and down to the floor, soon enough. Bucky almost wanted to roll his eyes, though he refrained from doing so; he swore, if Steve didn't stop overthinking his own missteps and ended up not getting the whole "magical experience" thing he was supposed to…

Well, the kid was getting dance lessons, no doubt about that.

But, at that moment, the lyrics started, and Bucky could see as the tension started to melt away from his friend's shoulders.

At last

My love has come along

My lonely days are over

And life is like a song

Yeah, Bucky'd known he'd picked right.

Stark sauntered over then, stopping at Bucky's right and mimicking his position: leaned back against the wall, arms lightly crossed, eyes fixed on the happy couple. "Think we should tell your pal he's a terrible dancer?"

Bucky smirked. "I'm disappointed, Stark. Beat you to that one by seventy five years. Maybe more."

"Well, at least I'm not legally a senior citizen."

"Hey, I'd say we all look pretty good for our nineties." He paused, inclining his head. "'Specially her."

"Can't argue with you there, Tin Man."

At that, both men turned back to the dance floor, Bucky pleasantly surprised to find that both Steve and Carter had closed their eyes, smiles painted on their lips as they swayed to the melody. Maybe not really dance by the most technical definition, but it wasn't like that mattered.

They were together. And happy together. For the first time in decades. The way they were really meant to be.

And that was all Bucky really cared as the last of the lyrics swept through the air.

For you are mine at last.


A/N: By the way, the song there is called "At Last" and was written by Mack Gordon and Henry Warren and first heard in the 1942 movie, "Orchestra Wives". There's also a version from the 60's by Etta James, which was a pretty big hit. From my understanding of it, the song was actually used for the last dance of the night during the war years, because of the whole idea of finally finding love, like Bucky said. If you wanna listen to it, here's the version I used as reference: watch?v=r27Oow49LSU

Now, a semi-important announcement. School's starting again really soon, which means the murder of my writing juices and my time. So all of my stuff on here may seem even more dead than usual. I'll still be writing, but maybe not as often, and posting even less. I'm really sorry, but hopefully I'll be back sooner rather than later!