Meaning of Love

It had been about a week. All of the sudden, everything changed. Vision and Wanda were talking again, or trading shy smiles and waves from across the hall. They made a general announcement that they were not, in fact, dating, and no one seemed quite as confused about it as Pietro.

Things seemed to stabilize, if not completely heal—like a wound that had closed, but the scab hadn't fallen off yet.

And Bucky still needed answers.

"So you and Wanda...aren't together?" he asked that afternoon, when he caught Vision alone on the couch and sat down beside him.

"No," said Vision.

Bucky frowned. "Oh. Darn." He'd been rooting for them too.

"It is not so bad as it sounds." Vision had been reading off a StarkPad, but he looked up and gestured vaguely with his hand. "We parted on mutually good terms."

"Gotcha." Bucky slung both arms over the backrest and looked out the window. Down on the green lawn, Wanda was practicing drills with Pietro, lifting him with her red energy over a trampoline and laughing at the hilarious faces he made in the air. Bucky smiled thinly. "She seems to be takin' it well."

Vision looked as well and smiled. "I believe she was more distressed by the strain and miscommunication between us than by the knowledge that I'm not romantically inclined."

That came as a surprise to Bucky. In hindsight, he realized it shouldn't have. "Well, sure. You two are pretty tight. I'd be worried if my best friend stopped talkin' to me for no reason too."

Vision didn't have eyebrows, but if he did, he would have raised one slyly. "You do realize, of course, the implications in comparing Wanda's and my relationship to yours and Captain Rogers'?"

Bucky blanched. Then he waved the idea away hastily, like it was a pesky fly. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever, I've seen what's on the internet. People will believe whatever they wanna believe."

"Of course." Vision sat very straight, a prim smile on his face. "And I can see it certainly doesn't ruffle any metaphorical feathers."

Bucky pushed him. "Shut it, punk."

Vision chuckled. Bucky frowned at him, but he couldn't quite hide the twinkle in his eye.

"Actually," Vision said, after regaining composure, "that's something I've been pondering lately."

Bucky turned his head. "Whazzat?"

"Human culture's propensity for obsession over romantic relationships." He set the tablet aside and turned to talk. "I'm aware that the desire to reproduce is one of the strongest of humanity's instincts, but aren't there other loves? Between parents and children, for instance, or between friends, or students and mentors? Why don't they get the same attention?"

Bucky sighed. He understood the sentiment. "Well, to be honest...yeah, I've noticed."

He kicked one ankle over his knee and leaned back, both arms crossed over his chest. "It was different, when I was a kid. Back then, your ma and your pa stayed together, and they took care a' ya, and you were expected t' pull your own weight an' help take care a' the family too. When you were grown up, ya had your boys in the army, and even if you didn't like 'em, you'd fight and die together; you'd lay down your life for 'em. Everybody worked together for the country, 'cause it was ours, and we were all a part of it."

He smirked. "'Course we had our lovely ladies on advertisements for scotch tape and whatnot, an' fellas my age were plenty interested in chasin' skirts, but there was more than that. Love for your family, for your country, for your brothers, for your people." His voice fell. "I feel like we've lost that, a little."

Vision hung on every word. "What do you think has changed?"

Bucky shrugged. "Beats me. But if I had to take a guess—" He twisted one lip under the other and stared at the ceiling. "I think when families stopped stayin' together, people started lookin' for quick and easy connections. Puppy love'll do that to ya, for a little bit. You ride high on the feelings of being someone's special someone, and you can ignore the hard part of lovin' people, for a little while. Then, when ya finally realize they're not the perfect person you thought they were, ya drop 'em and move on to the next one."

Vision was aghast. "Surely love doesn't change so easily."

Bucky shook his head. "No, it doesn't. That's not really love."

Vision frowned. "So...what is?"

Bucky turned his head. A small smile crept onto his face. "You want the dictionary definition, or my answer?"

Vision, ever literal, answered, "I already have access to every dictionary publicly available on the internet. What I don't have is yours."

Bucky took a deep breath. "Okay. Well, from what all I've seen..."

He thought of the narrow streets of Brooklyn. He thought of the dirt and rainwater in the trenches. He thought of a machine of steel and glass, careening into a river, and a man in blue with a face that seemed so familiar...

"Love is a choice," he said softly. "It's lookin' at somebody, all of their good, and all of their bad, and deciding you're still gonna stick around for 'em. It's forgiving. It's doing what's right, when it's not what you want. Laying down your life for your friend—that's love."

And greater love has no man than that.

Vision's silver-grey eyes were locked onto him. Bucky could practically see the gears turning in that vibranium head. "So," said Vision, "if, for instance, I have decided to devote my entire existence to the protection of humanity...in full realization of its faults, yet embracing its strengths, even if it should cost my bodily safety, and perhaps, even my life...?"

He looked at Bucky for confirmation. Bucky was frozen in awe for a moment—and then, he smiled back.

"Then, pal? I think you get it better than most people."

Vision just about puffed up with pride, then deflated in relief. "Thank you. That's a great encouragement."

Bucky grinned. "Didja doubt it?"

"Well," Vision said defensively, "you have to understand, I've been rather baffled by this topic lately. I thought I had a grasp on it, and all I've really done is hurt one of my closest friends." His impeccable posture bent just slightly as he admitted, "I'm not quite sure of anything now."

Bucky frowned and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. There's no need to be down on yourself. You asked her to forgive you, din'cha?"

"Yes."

"And you've made it right where you can, right?"

Vision paused. "Yes."

And Bucky said what he'd been told dozens of times before, what he had to tell himself every time he got up in the morning: "Then forgive yourself."

Vision didn't answer. He just stared at his hands, steepled in front of him, but ever so slowly, he began to smile.

Bucky smiled too and patted his shoulder. "You'll be all right, Vizh. I promise. It gets better."

Vision turned his head. He still seemed uncertain. "You think so?"

Bucky's chuckle came out as just a small puff of air through his nose. "Pal, I've got a list of things I regret that's longer than you've been alive. I'm still learnin'; still workin' on it. But I made it this far." He slid his arm all the way over Vision's shoulders, dragging him down until their foreheads almost bumped together. "I don't think it gets better." He smiled. "I know it does."

Again, Vision didn't answer, but he did seem to be thinking that over—and the Mind Stone glowed soft and yellow and happy in his forehead.

Bucky sat back and smirked. "Though speakin' a' friends, ya might wanna steer clear a' Pietro for the next couple days. Punk said he was gonna punch your teeth down your throat."

Vision frowned. "That's...not physically feasible. My teeth are also made of vibranium alloy."

"That's what I said!" cried Bucky, sitting up and pointing at him.

He startled Vision, who popped off the couch and began anxiously floating a foot off the ground.

Bucky rolled back on the couch, laughing until he had to clutch his side. Vision chuckled sheepishly and floated back down, until his heels touched the floor.

"What's so funny?" asked Vision.

"Nothin'." Bucky had a hand over his face, but he pushed it back to grin at him. "You're all right, Vizh. You'll be all right."

He had a feeling everything was gonna be all right.

A/N: Literally just cranked this one out in the hour before I was supposed to post it. Can you tell I'm procrastinating? LOL

This chapter, and the one before and after it, take place towards the end of If: Then:! More context there.

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