Disclaimer: Still don't own Buck or Stevie. Still not making money from this.

A/N: Warnings for alcohol use, and a recreational drug reference from Tony. There's some suicidal ideation from Bucky, basically lifted from the comic. It's non graphic, but it is there.

The movie Steve watches with Bucky is The Best Years of Our Lives (1946), and it is absolutely amazing. It's about soldiers returning from war and how they cope with reintegrating themselves into an America they don't recognize anymore. You think Bucky and Steve could relate to that?

As always, feel free to drop a note and tell me what you think! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 7

"Friend Barnes! It is both an honor and a pleasure to finally be in your company. Tales of your courage in battle are legend in Midgard." Thor held out a tall glass brimming with something foamy. "Let us drink to your glorious return!"

Bucky couldn't help but smile. "Good to finally meet you, too, Thor." He accepted the glass, and clinked it against Thor's. He took a long pull of the brew. "What is this, anyway? I haven't had beer that tastes like this yet."

Thor laughed. "Indeed you have not, for this is Asgardian mead, drank by warriors upon their return from battle. Most Midgardians find it too strong for their constitution, but Steven has partaken without much issue. He tells me you are similar to him, that you drank a similar warrior draught?"

Bucky was blank for a few minutes. Warrior draught. "Super soldier serum? No, I didn't have quite the same thing as Steve. Close, though." He stared at the glass of mead in his hand and shrugged, as he drank off half the glass. Thor's laughter filled the room as he clapped Bucky on the back.

"Watch out, there, Inspector Gadget. The last time I drank Thor's beer, I was blackout city. Pepper said I tried to use her phone to call someone up to buy an eight ball. It was bad." Tony was next to them all of a sudden, ice clinking in his scotch. "In other news, Bruce is cooking tonight. Clint said he'd help, but it looks like he's doing a lot more sitting on his ass than cooking."

Clint poked his head across the kitchen island, coffee mug in hand. "Aw, Tony, come on. I told you I was supervising. I'm making sure the steaks don't get burnt."

There wasn't any danger of that happening; Bruce was a master in the kitchen. He made gazpacho seasoned with cilantro from his own herb garden, potatoes and green beans with bacon, and the steaks were in the process of being grilled to perfection. Plus, there was a peach upside down cake for dessert.

Clint made coffee. To which he may or may not have added a splash of Jameson.

Meanwhile, in the larger space of the common room, Bucky had crashed on one of the huge couches next to Natasha. Relearning how to make small talk was something Bucky had been working on since finding Steve. It made him nervous, being in a larger group of people like he was now. Steve's presence was familiar and calming, which made everything a little easier. Natasha sensed every bit of his unease. "It's good to see you, James. I'm glad you decided to join everyone for dinner." Her smile was genuine and warm. "It is okay that I call you James, isn't it? If you would like me to call you something else, just tell me."

Bucky shook his head. "No, it's nice to be called anything other than "Asset" or "Soldier." One corner of his mouth curved up in a half smile. "Steve calls me Bucky, but that's what he's always called me. Bucky, or sometimes Buck. I like it when he calls me that, but I like it too when you call me James."

Natasha took a sip of her shiraz. "It sounds like you've had time to think about that, James."

"I've had time to think about a lot of things." Bucky looked around the room. Everyone else had gravitated towards the kitchen. He could hear the warm sounds of Steve's laughter through the kitchen noises and other voices. It was a good sound, and it made him happier than he thought something that small would.

"It sounds like they're almost done in there. Bruce is a really good cook, you want to go join the rest of the guys with me?" Bucky nodded and rose with Natasha. She reached up and stroked his forehead gently. "Your hair, it's a good look for you, by the way."

Bucky drank the last of his mead and grinned.

In the kitchen, Bruce handed Bucky a bowl filled with something red and green. "I heard you had some dental surgery earlier. I made gazpacho, you won't have to chew it or anything. It's good, it's like chilled soup for the summertime." Bucky accepted the bowl and tasted warily. His face lit up with pleasure. "This is really good, thank you."

Bruce smiled shyly. "You can have as much as you want."

Bucky decided Avengers dinner had been a good idea. True to what he had been told by Steve earlier, the party moved out to the balcony after everyone finished eating. Everyone stretched out on the patio furniture around the fire pit. Bucky pulled out his cigarettes at the same time Natasha pulled out a long, thin wand from her jacket. She eyed the pack of cigarettes in Bucky's hand. "I should have known you still smoked. Wanna try this?" She held out the wand.

"What is it?" Bucky's eyes squinted distrustingly at what Natasha held in her hand.

"It's a vaporizer. It's like cigarettes, but less bad. This stuff tastes like hazelnut. Here. Try it."

Bucky inhaled, the sweet taste of the vapor spreading throughout his mouth. "It's not terrible."

Natasha shrugged. "It's not. It's kind of a fad, actually. A lot of people even quit smoking with one of these." She grinned as Bucky lit up a cigarette. "But you, you're what, 96, 97 years old now? I think you've earned the right to smoke if you want."

Bucky laughed. That's exactly what he thought.

There were so many little side conversations going between everybody that Bucky couldn't pick out individual threads of conversation anymore. Until...

"...a goddamn gift to mankind, Rogers." Tony slurred across the fire pit on the deck chairs.

Bucky suddenly felt like his chest was being crushed. He couldn't get any air. Those words. They reminded him of something. He knew they were linked to someone, had it been Pierce? Something horrible, to be sure. He was on the verge of remembering, and the small bits he did remember were horrifying. He slowly became aware of hands on his shoulders.

"Bucky."

You don't do your part, I can't do mine. Hydra can't give the world the freedom it deserves."

Dozens of heads through crosshairs. The way it felt so natural to pull the trigger.

"I knew him."

"Bucky!"

"Wipe him."

The handlers programmed the mind wipes so he would always remember the procedure. What they felt like.

Every. Single. One.

"Bucky!"

Steve was breathless when Bucky looked up and saw him grasping at his shoulders. "Bucky, are you with me?" Bucky's quiet nod was all Steve needed. He pulled him into his arms and rubbed circles on his back. "I'm with you, Buck."

Bucky looked around to see everyone else looking on in concern. "Sorry, guys. I'm just...I don't know what happened. Tired, I guess."

Bruce ran his hand through his hair nervously, as was his habit. "Nothing to be sorry about, Bucky. Don't apologize."

Steve nodded in agreement. "You know where you are now? You're in Stark Tower. You're safe." Bucky breathed in sharply, nodding along with Steve. "You want to go lie down?"

Bucky nodded. He allowed himself to be led by Steve through the doorway to the bank of elevators. He looked over his shoulder at everyone inside, watching him go with concern, then sagged against Steve tiredly.

Steve didn't wake Bucky up the next morning, he thought he should let him sleep for as long as he could. He didn't say anything when he finally emerged from his bed at two in the afternoon. He didn't bring up going back to D.C., Steve thought he would at least wait until tomorrow for that. Give Bucky a little more time to relax. Despite last night's flashback, Bucky had been all smiles and jokes today. He even suggested going out for a walk with Steve.

In disguise, of course. Steve had eagerly agreed, and it had been fun. Bucky seemed to have enjoyed it, anyway. They had stopped to pick up a pizza on the way back to the tower, and Steve mused that this day couldn't have been better. Rounding out the day with pizza and beer, watching movies with Bucky. What could possibly go wrong?

"Want to watch a movie, Buck?" Steve held up the remote in his hand, two beers in the other.

"Sure, Stevie. I probably missed some good stuff while I was sleepin', huh?" Steve grimaced at that, and twisted off the cap from a longneck and handed it to Bucky. "Bruce said we should watch this one movie, I saved it to the playlist here."

Bucky looked at the television and read from the screen. "The Best Years of Our Lives. What's it about?"

Steve sat down and leaned back on the couch. "It's about guys like us, Buck. Guys who went to war and came back to find the rest of the world moved on." His voice grew soft. "I haven't watched it yet, I thought I'd see if you wanted to watch it with me. You don't have to if you don't want to, though. We could watch something else…"

"No, no, Steve. We can watch this. It sounds…" Bucky searched for the right words, like he'd been doing lately. "…relevant to my interests."

Steve's smile stretched nearly from ear to ear. "Okay, then. You know sometimes when you talk, it's like we're back in that tenement in Brooklyn again, and then sometimes, you talk like that, and…" He laughed. "Never mind. Let's watch the movie, Buck." Steve scooted over on the couch to make room for Bucky, who plopped down next to him. Their shoulders were touching, cold metal against firm muscle. Steve pressed play.

They barely made it fifteen minutes into the goddamn movie and Steve thinks this is probably the worst idea he could have had.

Bruce could have told him that one of the main characters had a double amputation and now had hooks for hands. Steve nervously looked at Bucky out of the corner of his eye. Bucky was watching the screen, unblinkingly. He smiled as he turned to look at Steve, poking him in the shoulder. "Didja see how he struck that match, Stevie?"

Steve decided maybe it wasn't as bad an idea as he had thought.

He and Bucky made it through a six pack of beer each during the movie. It was like drinking water to Steve, he figured it was almost the same for Bucky. His interjections throughout the film had sounded sober, at least. Steve sat up when the screen went blank after the credits. "Want another beer before bed, Buck? I could do another one."

Bucky nodded, running a hand over his head, the raspy sound of spiky hair rubbing against skin filled Steve's ears.

Steve came back from the kitchen with the beers to find Bucky had moved out to the balcony. He was standing with a cigarette clenched between his front teeth, and he had left the sliding door wide open. He lit up with a snikt of the zippo and exhaled smoke in the cool night air. Steve watched as Bucky bared his teeth into nothingness. He was breathing hard, chest heaving with every intake. Steve felt sick.

"What's wrong, Buck?"

"Steve…you should have just killed me."

Steve's stomach bottomed out. He felt like his airways had closed up, and every syllable he tried to get out around the gigantic lump in his throat was choked and painful as hell. "What, Bucky? Where did that come from?"

"Everything's coming back. I remember who I am, but I remember who he was too. I know I don't deserve to be breathing air right now, Stevie."

"Bucky, that wasn't you."

"I shot you, Stevie. I shot you and I laughed when you hit the floor bleeding. That was me. I did that to you."

Steve shook his head. "That wasn't you. I saw it in your eyes, when you woke up. I know that wasn't you, Bucky."

"I was going to smash your skull open, Steve. I almost did it, too."

Steve thought back to the helicarrier, to the feel of those metal fingers fisted and delivering blow after blow to his face. The pain was excruciating, and not just from the bones smashing and skin tearing.

"But you didn't, goddammit. You pulled me out of the water, Bucky. You saved my life. Like you've been doing our whole lives."

"You don't have to live with the things I have to live with now, Steve. It's like everything I've done is playing at top volume in my head. Sometimes I can turn it off, but it's there most of the time. It's so heavy, carrying it around in there. I just want it to stop."

Bucky turned around when he heard a choked sob come from Steve. He had sat back down on the couch, and was seconds away from falling apart along with Bucky.

Bucky absolutely hated himself at this moment. He had made Steve cry more times than he could count in just the past few days, and that fact made Bucky feel even lower than he already did. He could hear partially muffled, wet, sniffling sounds coming from Steve's direction. The sounds of a broken heart were distinctive and loud. Steve was failing horribly at choking back tears, on his account. He should have kept his goddamn mouth shut.

Steve's voice was steady now, his words carefully chosen. "I felt the same way, you know. I just wanted everything to stop too. After you fell. It's why I flew that plane into the ocean. You were the last thing I was thinking about before it all went dark. I was talking to Peggy, but it was your face in my mind." He cleared his throat before continuing in an ever-deepening voice. "I couldn't do it without you, Buck. You fell, and it hurt to breathe again. I was ready to go." Steve's eyes closed, but not before tears rushed out of the corners of his eyes. "You've always been stronger than me. I know you don't believe me, Buck, but it's true."

"We're a hell of a pair, Stevie." It might have been an insensitive or inappropriate thing to say, but the mood couldn't be dampened further. It at least brought a smile to Steve's face. "Both of us are so ready to die for the other, it's like we forgot how to live in the process."

Steve couldn't argue with that.