Hello friends! Hope you're all doing well! So I've written it a couple of times before but Bucky low key breaking and entering and checking up on Steve in his apartment is one of my favorite tropes. He's a concerned creeper! =p

Hope you all like it! :D


Sokovia crumbles like a piece of particle board. Buildings, streets, entire blocks break and disintegrate in midair, breaking apart from a larger piece and tumbling to earth in huge, devastating chunks. The country breaks apart on national television, on every news station in the world, and no one can do anything to stop it.

He watches in rapt, rigid silence in a cafe in Manhattan. The TV is on, the horrors displayed across the screen in clear, high definition, and every person in the cafe watches as Sokovia lifts higher and higher into the atmosphere, a country turned into a meteor. A woman is crying in the corner, someone else is praying, and all of them are helpless to stop what's happening.

It's like something out of a nightmare, surreal and awful and impossible. The news footage is shaky and blurry around the edges and there are reports that the Avengers are trying to prevent the inevitable calamity. He doesn't know who the Avengers are but it sounds familiar for some reason and that makes it worse. He's not sure why but the name pings off something in his mind and he finds himself clenching his teeth as the news reports keep rolling in. There are streaks of red and gold, thunderbolts lancing across the dust filled sky, a flicker of red, white, and blue and no, no, no...Steve is up there...

That's why he recognizes the name, that's where he's heard it. When he first started remembering himself, he remembered Steve first. He dug up every scrap of information he could find on the Captain and committed every detail to memory. Even if he never remembers himself fully he feels like he should at least know Steve. Steve who had ended up in war torn Germany when he should have been home safe in Brooklyn. Steve who became Captain America, leader of the Howling Commandos. Steve who became Captain America, leader of the Avengers. Steve who's standing on a fractured street in Sokovia as the entire country prepares for a free fall back to earth...

He sees him, split second and fleeting, hovering on the edge of parking lot that breaks off into the abyss. He has his shield in hand, white star emblazoned across his chest, and he looks every bit like the same reckless punk who stormed a Hydra base during the war. Crazy bastard, he never knew when to quit…

He sways a little at the resurgence of memory, gripping the back of chair to keep his balance. His memories are still jagged and distorted, like burned film being pushed through a projector, but remembers Steve the most. The information he has on the Captain reads like a textbook, black and white and factual. He knows it like the back of his hand but it's difficult to remember how it related to him, how he fit into that picture.

He still feels detached from it, a life that was lived but wasn't his. What little he does remember of himself and how he fit into these memories sticks in his brain like barbs: words and phrases, a side-armed hug, Steve saying his name. What he remembers more than anything with these memories are the feelings that come with them. Pride, concern, protectiveness. He doesn't remember who he was but he remembers how he felt when Steve was around.

The image on the screen shakes and Steve disappears and suddenly it feels like all the oxygen is sucked out of the room. He can't see him anymore, he doesn't know where he is, the camera cut away to something else and the Captain was gone. The grip he has on the back of the chair is strong enough that the metal creaks and crunches beneath his hands but no one seems to notice; they're all too busy staring at the screen.

The footage cuts away again and a visibly shaken news anchor appears on the screen to inform the viewers of the updates. He can't stand it anymore, the closeness of the cafe and the hopelessness of the situation. He pushes his way out onto the street, staggering down the sidewalk in a haze. Another television displays the same images in a window nearby and he can't help but stop to watch the devastation again. He watches carefully, eyes trained on the screen for any trace of the Captain. He needs to see him, he needs to make sure he's still alive…

Sirens are blaring somewhere in the city, the long, keening wail of a dying banshee. The news feed is instructing people to return to their homes, seek shelter, prepare for the worst. It won't matter; if Sokovia falls then the world goes with it. This is an epoch-level event, one that has the potential to destroy every living thing on earth. Seeking shelter won't change a thing; you'll be just as dead either way.

The fighting is reaching a boiling point on the floating country and every shake and shudder of the land mass could be its last. He stays where he is and watches the battle rage on across the screen. There's no point in running or hiding and he refuses to move until he knows where Steve is. As much as he tried to run, as much distance as he tried to put between them, he can't bring himself to move until he knows Steve is safe.

Something large and looming appears on the screen alongside the destruction, a floating mass much like the country itself. They're giant ships, exactly like the one he and Steve fought on above the Potomac. The news anchors are speaking excitedly, describing the situation to their viewers as the cameras continue to roll. The country is so high up now that the people scrambling to safety look like little more than specs of dust. They're loading in groups and clumps onto the waiting ships as sparks and threats of disaster continue to rage around them.

What happens next is all very fast. The land mass begins to fall just as the last few survivors make it onto the ship and he feels something clench in his stomach when he realizes what's about to happen. If that mass hits the ground it's all over.

There are more streaks of red and gold below it, the arch of a lightning bolt intended to dispel the falling debris, and the country begins to break apart as it falls. Buildings topple over, cars plunge into the void, and Sokovia disintegrates into chunks of rubble and ruin. Dust and smoke fill the air, every shot and camera angle obscured by a thick, opaque screen.

It takes several minutes for anything to come back into focus and when it does the cameras show the ships landing several miles away and unloading their passengers. He watches carefully, muscles tight and body rigid, waiting for a single image. He sees the Captain in the background, covered in dust and specks of blood as he helps a woman and her children step off the ship. He's upright and walking, alive and whole, and the weight of relief causes his shoulders to sag slightly. He still doesn't know why he's so invested in making sure the Captain is still alive but he is and now that he knows Steve is safe, he feels like he can breathe again.

The news anchors are speaking again, the footage begins to replay, and he walks away from the window. He doesn't need to see anything else, doesn't need to know anything else; Steve is safe and for some reason that's all that matters. He walks down to the end of the street and rounds a corner as Sokovia crumbles again and again on every screen in the city.

OOOOO

He finds himself in New York four days later, sitting on a rooftop across from an apartment building. He's waiting for Steve although he won't admit that to himself, anticipating his homecoming like a war bride. He's stayed away for over six months, keeping off the grid and disappearing any time Steve or his partner, the man with the metal wings, got too close.

He still doesn't trust himself around Steve yet; he's not sure if his programming will snap back to the forefront and drive him to complete the mission he failed all those months ago in Washington. He keeps his distance but he needs to see him for himself though; after everything that happened in Sokovia, in spite of all the news footage that showed dusty, blurry images of Captain America, he needs to see him for himself.

The Avengers, Steve included, had been bounced from one country to the next for the past few days, helping survivors and directing aid efforts. There had been endless numbers of meetings and councils and briefings and the team participated in every single one of them. Finally, when it was deemed nothing else could be done at the moment, they were sent back to the states to recover and regroup before planning to return the following week.

He had found out all of this through S.H.I.E.L.D chatter and radio transmissions. Thanks to Hydra's almost takeover he still had access to some of their most secure channels. Interesting that S.H.I.E.L.D hadn't done an overhaul of it after the infiltration but it's not his decision so he doesn't care. All he cares about is the information that says the Avengers are returning to New York that afternoon.

Armed with this knowledge, he finds Steve's apartment, climbs to the roof of the building next to it, and waits.

The day stretches on from afternoon into early evening and it's just past 7:30 when Steve finally makes it home. From what he can see from his perch on the opposite roof, the apartment is spartan in its layout, the bare minimum of furniture and comfort. It's clear this isn't a place he stays very often. However, given the stress and adrenaline of the past few days, a quiet place with no one else around is probably like a Godsend.

Steve's apartment is the last one on the floor which means his windows face out in two different directions. It wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that Steve apparently doesn't believe in curtains and there's a clear view of nearly every room of his home from the street. For someone who tries to blend in with the rest of society outside of his uniform, Steve is surprisingly lax when it comes to the privacy of his home. Literally anyone walking down the sidewalk could look up and see Steve Rogers stumbling around his house like a newborn giraffe and be completely fine with it.

That realization bothers him for some reason, not the least of which is that Steve still seems to have very little regard for his own safety. If his memories are accurate (which is questionable even on the best of days) then he knows that Steve has never taken the safer route and routinely ignores his own well being in favor of others. Apparently some things never change and that's damn irritating.

Steve doesn't remain in the main room of the apartment for long. He sets his accumulated mail on the kitchen table, drops his keys on top of it, and heads straight to the bedroom. It's the one room of the apartment that actually has curtains (thank God for small miracles) but the Captain's outline is visible through them when he turns on the light. He shuffles around for a few minutes, his movements slow and careful like he's still recovering from the abuse sustained in Sokovia. He probably is; if the snippets of news footage are anything to go on, all of them would be nursing bruises and scrapes for the next few weeks. The light flips off a few minutes later and the apartment plunges into darkness.

He waits for close to two hours before making his move, descending from the rooftop quietly and crossing the street. He doesn't bother going through the main part of the building, opting instead to go up the fire escape below Steve's living room window. The window is unlocked, which is troubling, but it makes his job easier so he doesn't mind it as much.

The apartment is dark and quiet, the dull hum of the air conditioner the only thing filling the emptiness. He walks silently, carefully placing each step and moving like a shadow through the darkened apartment. The bedroom door is open and he can just make out Steve's sleeping form from the hallway. He stands motionless.

For several long, quiet minutes he doesn't move, barely dares to breathe. He hasn't been this close to the Captain since he dragged him out of the river and that seems like a lifetime ago. He can feel every muscle in his body, every twitch and tug that urges him to duck out the window again and disappear into the night. This is dangerous, a terrible idea, but he doesn't run. When he does work up the courage to move forward, he does so with all the care and precision of moving through a minefield.

The Captain is sprawled across the bed like he's been thrown out of a plane, arms and legs akimbo and tangled in sheets. He didn't even bother to get undressed; it looks like he walked into the room and literally collapsed on the bed. The lines of exhaustion and fatigue are clear on his face in spite of him being deeply asleep, another testament to the stress and chaos of the days since Sokovia. He doesn't even stir when the other man steps into the room, completely oblivious to the world around him. Once again, this is incredibly disconcerting but he ignores it and steps further into the room.

Up close and out of his uniform, the Captain, Steve, looks incredibly young and vulnerable. As he expected there are still outlines of dark bruises and healing scrapes from the battle, wounds that were probably much worse a few days earlier. His hair is mussed and disheveled, breathing deep and even, and he's completely unaware that anyone else is in the room.

He stares at him for a long time, watching him breathe and sleep and just be. His memories of Steve are conflicted, some of them filled with a small, bony man with a black eye and a busted lip and others filled with the same tall, strong man in front of him. The images war with each other, collide and deflect like rubber balls. He wonders which one is real and supposes in the end that both of them are to a certain extent. The man before him was an entire list of dichotomies: small and big, ruthless and kind, Captain America and Steve Rogers.

He wants to remember him, he wants to know why this man was different from all the other names and missions and targets. He wants to know why every memory of this man, distorted and fractured though they may be, sticks with him like a second skin.

He finds himself taking a small, hesitant step forward toward the bed. His footsteps are silent and the Captain is so dead to the world at the moment he could probably sleep through a bomb blast but he's cautious all the same. He doesn't know what he's hoping to accomplish, why he's moving forward, but he can't stop it once it's begun either.

Steve's breath hitches just slightly, a microscopic shudder of noise, and he freezes in an instant, stock still and rigid like he's carved from marble. The Captain doesn't awaken but, judging by the lines of stress that tug at his forehead, whatever it is he's dreaming about is troubling. This strikes something deep within him, something inherent and ingrained and built into him like it's part of his genetic code. Steve is upset, Steve is in distress, this is unacceptable.

He reaches out carefully and slowly, oh, so slowly, brushes his finger just slightly against Steve's half-curled hand. He keeps his metal hand far away from Steve (he's already hurt him enough with that) and focuses on the feeling of the other man's skin against his human hand. Steve skin is warm and comforting and familiar, the feeling of coming home. He's known that skin all his life even if he can't remember it.

The Captain's fingers curl around his just slightly, the gesture small and innocuous enough that it could have been simply a reflex. He knows he should move, run away again and never come back. Because if Steve wakes up and sees him, if he says his name, asks him to stay...he might actually do it.

He stands still for a few more seconds, Steve's fingers curled around his own like a child searching for comfort after a nightmare. He allows his thumb to brush along Steve's index finger lightly, providing the smallest amount of comfort he can. Small bones...Steve used to have much smaller bones. He remembers that or at least he knows it; Steve used to be smaller than this and he watched out for him because of that.

He shakes himself out of the memory and steps away from the bed, hand falling away from the sleeping Captain. He can't stay, he can't risk hurting Steve again, so he leaves. He slips out of the room and back out the window onto the fire escape. The apartment remains silent behind him, dark and quiet like it had never been disturbed.

There's a heavy sinking feeling in his chest, longing and hesitant all at the same time. As much as part of him wants to stay, the larger, more logical part of him knows he can't. He's too dangerous, too raw and unpredictable, and he can't bring himself to stay close to Steve. If he stays he could hurt him again and he can't let that happen. He needs to protect him, keep him safe, and that means leaving.

He finds himself on the street again, gazing up at the darkened window of Steve's apartment. Time stops for a split second as the lamp in the bedroom flickers on and he sees the Captain's shadow move behind the curtains.

Steve appears at the window then, pushing the curtains aside carefully. There's no one on the street below, the sidewalk empty and open. Whoever was there before was long gone by then, disappearing into the shadows of the city.


Thanks for reading guys! :D