Chapter Title: Life's Changes

Author: Sam and Dani

Story: The Omega Trials: 10 of ?

Series: The Omega Rights (part two)

Note: There is discussion of murder due to fertility nature or sexual preference. Please know we do not support such extreme prejudice or negative actions.

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Translations:

Cariad - Love - Welsh

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Setting: AU: Tuesday, August 22, 1939: Brooklyn, New York, United States of America

"I can wait out in the hall for you again, Steve, or I can go in for once," Bucky offered with a smile. The pair stood outside the door marked 'Doctor Keilmeyer, Men's Health.' The twenty-two year old held his hat in his hand as he watched his younger friend.

Steve shook his head, thinking of a thousand other things he wanted to do other than have Bucky watch him get examined. "No, it's alright, Buck. I'll only be a few minutes."

"Right," the brunet sank onto the bench in the hallway and pulled the rolled Brooklyn Daily Eagle from his back pocket. "I'll wait here," he said as he glanced over the front page, as if totally absorbed in what he read, despite his full concentration really being on his smaller friend. "Get caught up on the sports scores or something."

The blond nodded and turned away from his friend; Steve opened the door and froze at the sight of Keilmeyer and another unfamiliar redhaired man packing files away in wooden crates filled with straw. On the desk sat an open file marked with the only identifier of 'Patient 42.'

"Doctor Keilmeyer?" Steve asked as he shut the door softly behind him, "What's going on?"

Doctor Keilmeyer jumped at the sound of Steve's voice then looked up, glasses slightly askew in his hurried state. Upon seeing his small twenty-one year old patient he relaxed and offered a smile. "Ah, Steven, please come in. I was not aware I let the time slip past so quickly." He stepped away from the boxed he packed and offered a hand of greeting to Steve as the redhead flipped the file shut with a small look of worry to the blond.

Steve shook his doctor's hand hesitantly, "What's going on? Are you movin' offices or somethin'?"

With a sigh the older man nodded. "Well, not precisely. I have been recalled back home for a review of my work. My sponsors wish to make sure they are not funding a lost cause in Fertility Rehabilitation . . . you know, we spoke of it when you first came to me. I plan to use my research with you and others to heal birth defects before they happen. Sit, please." The doctor gestured to Steve's customary chair, used after exams generally. "This is my replacement, Doctor Johnson. He's an American," the older doctor added as if that was somehow important. Given Doctor Keilmeyer's German-like accent, it could be; since 1938, Germany had been participating in some very disturbing war-like maneuvers across Europe.

"Hello, Mister Rogers," the young red-haired physician offered his hand to Steve. "I've read your file and look forward to continuing your care."

The small blond shook Johnson's hand warily and nodded once. He didn't want Doctor Keilmeyer to leave; the older man had become a close friend to him throughout the years and Steve didn't want to lose him. However, Sarah had always taught him to be polite, so he offered his new doctor a kind smile and said, "thank you, Sir."

"Do you mind if I ask a few questions before Doctor Keilmeyer examines you this last time, Mister Rogers," Doctor Johnson asked with a smile.

"Of course not." Steve stated, "Whatcha need to know?"

Nodding, Doctor Johnson studied Steve for a moment before asking "in the years since becoming sexually active . . . oh, you are sexually active now, are you not?" He frowned slightly as if he might offend the youth with his assumption.

Flushing a deep red, Steve muttered, "Uh . . . yeah, I'm sexually active."

"Right, I thought Doctor Keilmeyer said you had a partner, but he didn't clarify specifics."

Doctor Keilmeyer threw up his hands and clarified, "I said you might have a partner, Steven, to help with your stimulation and self-massage, not that you had a definite lover. We never did discuss that after all."

The redhead nodded again and asked, "So, since you've been sexually active, have any of your erections or orgasms been painful?"

Shaking his head, Steve answered, "No."

"Good," Doctor Johnson actually sounded relieved at Steve's answer. He smiled over his shoulder at the older doctor then turned back to Steve. "And have you been able to satisfy your lover? I mean, is she pleased with your erections? Some infertile men cannot achieve erections hard or long enough to satisfy a lover."

Steve felt his whole body flush; Doctor Keilmeyer had never asked that question before, and the blond wasn't quite sure how to answer it. Did he satisfy Bucky? "I-I . . . I'm not sure, Doc."

"All right, let me try this another way, Mister Rogers. Are you pleased with your own erections? Your own stamina in bed? Do you feel like you can adequately satisfy a partner?" Doctor Johnson flipped open the file in his hand and took notes as Steve and he talked. In the background Doctor Keilmeyer began packing files once again into the sturdy wooden crates.

Shrugging his shoulders slightly, Steve muttered, "I guess." All these questions made Steve want to ask Bucky if he had been adequate enough in bed. The blond had never thought about it before; he was sure Bucky still thought that they were practicing for when they got dames of their own.

"You guess?" the redhead frowned as if trying to puzzle that out. "So, uh, you're lover hasn't complained has she?"

"No," Steve shook his head, "they haven't complained."

"They?" Doctor Johnson seemed to pounce on that pronoun. "So, you have more than one lover currently?" The man scratched something on the file.

Steve nearly choked on his own saliva, "What? No! Just the one!" He sputtered, completely embarrassed at how this conversation had gone.

Much as if he came to Steve's rescue, Doctor Keilmeyer cleared his throat. "I think it is time for Steven's exam, Christopher. We do not need to discuss how many lovers he has had in the past. We only needed to know if he can achieve and maintain erection adequately to bring himself and his lover to fulfillment. Steven," he turned kind eyes on the young man, "if you wish to undress?"

"Yeah . . . I'll go undress." Steve murmured and bolted behind the silk screen, wanting to distance himself from the two doctors. As he undressed, Steve thought of Bucky. Did he satisfy his friend? He knew that Bucky satisfied him, but what if Bucky just pretended to enjoy their intimate time together. What if Bucky didn't really like him in that way and only used their time together simply as practice? The blond shook his head, trying to will away those thoughts; he'd have to ask Bucky later.

The small man shuffled back into the office where the two doctors stood.

Doctor Keilmeyer offered his patient a smile. "I've been treating you for about eight years now, haven't I, Steven?" he asked in a friendly tone. Patting the bed, he signaled Steve closer. "I wish to show Christopher how to perform your exams if you don't mind? You have such a small frame, he needs to treat you more gently than the patients he may be used to in medical school."

Walking to stand closer to the two men, Steve shook his head, "No, Sir. I don't mind."

"Now, Steven is a twenty-one year old man, Christopher, so he deserves all the respect you would afford any man, despite his small frame. It is my belief, as you have seen in his file, that his congenital infertility and later illnesses combined to make him small. But, I can guarantee you that this man is one of the strongest fighters I've ever met," he offered his favorite patient a smile.

"First, we examine the external genitalia," Doctor Keilmeyer carefully showed his replacement how to do that, and both doctors impersonally, and quickly, did the penis and testicle exam. "Thank you, Steven. You may get on the bed for the rectal, choose your position." Turning his head to talk to his partner while Steve got comfortable, Doctor Keilmeyer continued, "As you can see, he is perfectly formed and even a little larger than most men of his small stature. That is a very good indicator that he is not fifteen as his appearance might suggest."

Steve tried to tune out Doctor Keilmeyer's professional discussion about him while he got onto the bed. He hated when people assumed his age based simply on his size; however, he expected that he might as well get used to it. The blond couldn't imagine hitting a growth spurt anytime soon; most men his age were done growing.

Once Steve had assumed his normal all-fours position, Doctor Keilmeyer nodded. "Now, when you do his check, make sure to be well lubricated, Christopher. I offer my patients a choice of position for their own comfort, but that will be useless if you rip them open." His voice had firmed with his warning, and he placed the back of his hand to Steve's thigh. "He will be repeating the exam after me, if you agree, Steven."

"That's fine, Doc." Steve nodded.

"So, I start with a quick visual then I slide my finger inside and quickly feel the prostate," the doctor spoke without doing anything but leaving the back of his hand on Steve's thigh. He did not make the exam a longer process by discussing while inside the patient. "Once I find and check that, I feel the rest of the way I can reach - - to make sure there are no lesions or lumps or oddities. Steve had had lesions occasionally in the past. At first I assumed it was due to rough exploration, but my colleague Doctor Erskine has found the occasional male patient with natural infertility which develops lesions on a regular basis. As long as medication for pain and to prevent infection is provided, the patient should be fine. I have found no proof Steven's lesions are of such a nature, but the option is still open since he has not received further testing in the area." Doctor Keilmeyer looked over to make sure Steve was not getting too uncomfortable with the delay.

Doctor Johnson looked at Steve. "Thank you for letting me learn on you, Mister Rogers," he said, seeming aware that the situation must be very uncomfortable. "Doctor Keilmeyer assured me that you are a very unique case, one I have yet to come across as a personal patient elsewhere, with your natural infertility."

"No problem." Steve muttered, wishing they would just complete the exam.

"Thus," and the first doctor then the other did the rectal check. Neither lingered and Doctor Johnson was just as impersonal and professional as his mentor. Finally, Doctor Keilmeyer nodded. "Unless you wish me to use the scope, Steven, there is no reason for it this time. I feel nothing odd, and Christopher knows how to use a scope already." The doctor removed his cotton gloves and dropped them in the laundry basket, followed by his assistant. "You may get cleaned up and dressed and we shall talk some more."

Steve hurried off the bed and behind the silk screen where his clothes were piled neatly on the embroidered chair. Quickly, the blond put on his clothes and walked back out.

The two doctors had several professionally made drawings spread on the desk, having moved the boxes of files while Steve dressed. The men looked over the drawings and seemed to be looking for something. "What of this, Rolf?" Doctor Johnson asked and Doctor Keilmeyer sighed. "That was a very rare case discovered in South America . . . Peru, I believe. The man was worshiped as a direct link to the gods, but he died before he was twenty-three."

Steve cleared his throat lightly to announce his presence; his Momma had always said eavesdropping was rude.

Turning, the men seemed suddenly aware of Steve. Doctor Keilmeyer left the drawings on the desk and signaled the patient over. "Come here, Steven. Doctor Erskine has provided some information on some of the patients in his study. If you are interested I can share some things, though names and specifics are strictly confidential."

Curious to learn more about some other cases that might be close to his own, Steve walked over and looked down at the multiple stacks of paper that sat on top of the desk. The blond took in the drawings of anatomy, internal and external, showing reproductive systems . . . most were male, one seemed female, and there were two that seemed to have blended the two together. Not a lot of the information made sense to him, but Steve tried to memorize every drawing.

"These are all drawings made of the internal reproductive organs, and some external, of patients that have been in the wider fertility study Doctor Erskine began and doctors like Christopher and I are continuing. As you can see, only one woman has been considered for the study." The doctor looked at Steve. "Of all these patients . . . twenty-one of twenty-three . . . were born infertile, like you." He sighed and touched the two drawings of mixed parts. "These two were fertile but are no longer alive. They had extremely rare conditions, one might say mutations even. They both possessed both sets of reproductive organs, Steven." He looked at the tiny blond.

"And both," added Doctor Johnson, "looked like they were still teenagers despite being in their twenties."

"I told you, Christopher, Steve has shown no signs of any female organs. No cervix at all. He is completely male." Doctor Keilmeyer sounded frustrated with the young redhead's enthusiasm.

Steve stared at the pictures of the patient's mixed parts, "How is that possible?" The blond asked looking up at the older man.

Doctor Keilmeyer shook his head. "Have you heard of the circus freaks who travel through towns? Some have two heads or extra body parts in their side or other such excessive genetic material? We believe it is the case in these two instances. Over the centuries such abnormalities have shown up and many have been killed upon discovery. Some are worshiped as gods or messengers. Most are not so fortunate." He sighed and touched one of the two mixed drawings. "This one, a young man just a couple years older than you, died in Peru last year. And the other," he touched the second drawing, "lived until the age of thirteen before his town, in England of all places, put him to death about the time you became my patient. He was your age."

Steve gasped, "That's horrible! Why would they do that? No one deserves to die just because of how they were born. He couldn't help it!"

Clearing his throat, Doctor Johnson said softly, "He was my cousin. And he was murdered because he was homosexual . . . and actually wound up getting pregnant. That's how they found out about his extra internal organs." Taking off his glasses, Christopher rubbed his eyes. "Most of these rare mixed gender people aren't even discovered until death." He put the glasses back on and looked at Steve; it added a whole new light on why the doctor wanted to work in this research.

The blond instantly thought of his friend sitting right outside in the hallway; if people found out what they did behind closed doors, both of them could be killed. "I'm sorry," Steve muttered, "He deserved to be treated better. People shouldn't be hurt just because of who they choose to love." '. . . especially at such a young age,' thought Steve. 'Thirteen?'

The redhead nodded. "Thank you. I am sure Lucas would have liked you." He offered a sad smile. "However, people don't look at the deeper love or kindness. They see the surface and are terrified for some reason of homosexual men and women. It makes ne sense to me, but the general populace doesn't accept them." Doctor Johnson shrugged. "And a child exploring his own sexuality, while not the best decision, should not be punished so severely for his . . . choices."

Steve thought of Bucky's caring smile and trusting heart, remembering Tata's tale. People would hurt Bucky if they found out about the two friends helping each other. They wouldn't understand; they wouldn't care to get to know how kind of a person the brunet was. They would simply kill him for being different.

"Steven?" Doctor Keilmeyer sounded worried suddenly. "Are you alright?"

Snapping his eyes to meet with his doctor's, Steve nodded numbly, "I'm okay. Just thinkin' is all."

With a nod, Doctor Keilmeyer collected together the drawings and slipped them into one of the boxes. "Well, please recall that this research is very confidential, Steve. And that it is sensitive. Many people will be horrified that we want to help cure birth defects or fertility problems, but to know that we are also caring for patients like young Doctor Johnson's cousin . . . funding would disappear and the patients might be hunted down." He looked at Steve carefully. "I thought you should know how important your participation has been, though. You will be seeing Doctor Johnson until I can return from my meetings in Germany."

"Of course," Steve stated, "I won't tell anyone. Thank you, Doctor Keilmeyer . . . for everything." The blond felt his throat constrict; he didn't want the older man to leave.

"And, Christopher has agreed to continue your food cheques and medical coverage in my absence." Doctor Keilmeyer seemed satisfied to be able to offer that small bit of assistant to the man with such delicate health he could hardly find a steady job. Basically, Steve Rogers was being paid to be their test subject, but Doctor Keilmeyer had always treated the small man as a valued member of society, not a guinea pig.

"Thank you," Steve said to Doctor Johnson.

Nodding, the redhead smiled. "You aren't the only patient on assitance, Mister Rogers. Apparently, delicate health can accompany some infertility cases. I'm just pleased that you'll allow me to continue the research."

"Well, no reason to keep your friend waiting out in that drafty hall any longer, Steven. Steven is often accompanied by his friend, Mister Barnes, who sees to his health out of the office, I believe," Doctor Keilmeyer told Doctor Johnson. "A very likable young man, in fact. Why don't you find something amusing to do, Steven? Get your mind of this medical babble."

Steve nodded and turned to walk out of the office, but just as his fingers hovered over the doorknob the blond froze. Quickly, he turned on his heel and rushed over to Doctor Keilmeyer. He wrapped his thin arms around the older man and said, "Thank you for everything, Doc. I just thought you should know that I've always thought of you as one of my closest friends."

The older man hugged his small patient with true kindness. "I have always felt you are family more than a patient, Steven. Hopefully we will meet again, soon." And the man smiled down at Steve. "Now, go, You need to relax or you'll get cramps and breathing problems again . . . and I will feel guilty for being the cause."

Before Steve opened the door, Doctor Johnson called out "Thank goodness you have a nurse, Mister Rogers. Not everybody is lucky enough to find one." He seemed delighted with his assumption of Bucky's real role in Steve's life.

The small man exited the office and smiled at the sight of his best friend asleep on the bench, his head falling forward against his chest and his newspaper lying in a heap on the floor. "Buck," Steve called out softly.

"Yeah, Cariad?" Bucky answered, sleepy and without thinking. He opened grey-blue eyes and blinked up at the small blond.

"Ya ready to get going? I feel like I could eat a horse. I'm starved." Steve smiled, a small blush creeping into his cheeks at the familiar nickname Bucky had given him.

Standing and stretching, Bucky scooped up his paper and put his hat on. "Well, I'm not gonna make you eat horse. I got paid Friday. I can afford real beef if you want it." He smiled softly at Steve. "And tomorrow a new flick is playing . . . Wizard of Oz. Says it's got color pictures, too. Wanna go see it? I can dig up dates if you want, or we can just go like old times?"

"Colored pictures?" Steve mused, "I'd love to go see it with ya, Buck. Just you an' me."

Nodding, smile at Steve widening, Bucky gestured with his head towards the office. "You were in there longer than normal. Everything okay, Stevie?"

"Oh," Steve shrugged, "Got a new doc. Doctor Keilmeyer got called back to Germany for a bit."

Bucky frowned, opening the door to the outside world. He glanced at Steve. "Germany? Hope he's not Jewish. They said that the Jews have to have special identification in Germany nowadays or they'll get arrested."

Steve's stomach churned at the thought of his kind doctor going into such a hostile place. "I just hope he'll be okay."

As Bucky led the way down the steps, he asked, "So, what's the new doctor like? He as old as the other one?" The brunet looked back, "or as nice?"

"Nah . . . he's probably only a few years older than you, Buck."

"Than me? I'm only a year older than you, punk!" Bucky grinned.

"Well . . . he's real young," Steve continued, "And he seems nice, real understanding."

With a grin, Bucky threw a companionable arm around Steve's shoulders. "Good, you need people nice in your life. Got enough jerks out there trying to take advantage." He walked a few steps with his friend then asked "so, dinner at home?"

"Yeah, I'm kinda tired." Steve answered, not really feeling up to eat out that evening.

"No problem, Steve. We can have beef tomorrow. Tonight, it's chicken and bread . . ." Bucky offered, "want I should try to cook tonight?"

Steve laughed, "Alright . . . chicken and bread it is."

Upon reaching the apartment, Bucky dropped his arm from Steve's shoulders and let them in. He immediately walked over to the small stove of the combined living-eating room. "Get cleaned up, Steve, I'll figure out how to make gravy . . . flour right? We use flour?"

"Yes, Buck. Ya use flour to make gravy." The small blond laughed, "Ya sure you don't want me to cook? I don't mind."

"If you don't mind teaching me to cook, maybe," Bucky grinned at the other man. "I need to learn sometime in case you up and get married and leave me on my own."

Steve chuckled and started to show his friend how to make a simple gravy, after a few minutes and the gravy was successfully cooking on the stove, Steve asked in a quiet voice, "Do I satisfy you, Buck?"

"Satisfy me?" Bucky turned confused eyes to his best friend. "Of course you satisfy me. Who could have a better pal than you, Steve?"

"Not like that . . ." Steve paused, a blush heating up the tips of his ears, "I mean . . . when we ya'know . . . practice together? Do I satisfy you then?"

Shocked by the unusual question, Bucky paused in stirring the gravy. "Where'd this come from, Stevie?"

"It's just somethin' my new doc asked me." Steve shrugged, keeping his eyes downcast, "I don't know . . . I know we're just practicing for dames and all . . . but I wanna make you happy, Buck."

Whispering, Bucky asked "he knows about me?" Suddenly Bucky took the pot from the stove and put it on the counter, worry lighting his pale eyes. "He knows you've been doing . . . stuff with a man?"

"No!" Steve exclaimed quickly, "He assumes I've been doing things with a gal . . . of course I've never said anything 'bout us."

Taking a deep breath, Bucky nodded and walked over to Steve. "If he finds out, you can be arrested, Steve. It's illegal, what we've been doing, you know? Even if it's just for later." He tilted Steve's chin up, studying those vibrant eyes with worry.

Steve pulled his head away from Bucky's fingers, "I know that, Bucky!" Steve snapped. "Ya know what? Just forget I said anything."

Hurt registered in his blue-grey eyes, but the brunet nodded, moving back to the stove and starting the gravy once more. "Maybe you should get cleaned up, Steve. I think I can manage not to burn this stuff tonight." His voice was soft.

Steve stomped out of the kitchen and into the small bedroom he shared with his friend. He felt embarrassed; of course the only thing Bucky would care about was the fact that someone might find out about them. The blond felt stupid for thinking, even if for just a moment, that the brunet would actually care for him in any romantic way. The small man collapsed on the bed and tried to will away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

Bucky continued to cook the chicken, heating up the bread until it steamed wonderfully aromatic. All the time, he troubled over Steve's reactions, his questions. Reviewing the conversation, Bucky flushed. What the hell was he supposed to answer his friend about being satisfied in bed? He wasn't supposed to be enjoying another man's touch at all, so how could he admit that Steve satisfied him more than any of the women he'd tried to get together with? With a sigh, Bucky put the food on the table, scooping chicken and gravy onto the bread in a hot open-faced sandwich, as his Tata had called them. Softly, Bucky called, "Steve? Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry anymore!" Steve shouted back, not wanting to look at his friend right then. A few stray tears slipped down his cheeks. He turned his back to the doorway and curled into a fetal position. Steve wished he didn't have these feelings for his best friend; it would make everything so much easier.

"Right . . ." Bucky called back in a similarly dejected voice. "Guess I'll put it away then." He proceeded to scrape all the food back into the chicken pan and stick the entire mess into the ice box. Then he started washing the other dishes. After a long moment, and more than enough time to clean up the few dishes he'd used, Bucky called out "Steve? You cramping today?" He had realized that Steve's mood often seemed to get odd when he wasn't feeling well . . . or at least when he had that weird stress cramping.

The blond didn't answer his friend, not trusting himself to speak. If he said anything, he knew Bucky would figure out he was crying.

When no sound came from the other room, Bucky bit his lip in worry. Something was definitely wrong with his friend. He'd never before refused to let Bucky know if he hurt or anything. Softly, Bucky walked to the doorway of their shared bedroom. He watched Steve lying on the bed, shoulders shaking in tears. Heart lurching, Bucky said "Steve? Cariad?"

Steve continued to ignore his best friend, his hurt pride aching even more so now that Bucky stood in the same room.

Taking his fear in hand, Bucky sighed. "You scare me, Steve . . . sometimes I don't know what to do to keep people from hurting you. And now I'm the one doing the hurting. I'm sorry."

"You don't always have to protect me," Steve snapped, his voice coming out strained from the tears. The small blond wished his friend would leave him alone; Bucky being in the room only made him feel worse.

Sighing, Bucky looked out towards the living area where they'd managed to squeeze Steve's smaller bed once he'd moved in. "Yeah, okay," Bucky responded. "I'm sorry if I worry about you. Must make you feel like a baby or something to have a friend worrying when we've got no one else." Bucky turned and strode to the smaller bed and pulled the blankets back. Neither one of them had used it; it was there basically so it could be used if Steve got sick, or if the Barnes women visited they wouldn't guess the men actually slept together. Pulling off his shirt and trousers, Bucky slid under the blanket, still in his drawers.

Steve turned his head into his pillow and screamed in frustration, the noise muffled by the fabric, but no doubt his friend still heard it in the other room. The smaller man wanted to tell his friend how he felt, how much he loved him; but Steve didn't want to ruin everything they had. Bucky might never want to see him again if he found out how he really felt. Steve could handle a lot of things, but Bucky shunning him was something that could very well break him.

Thinking over everything that had happened between the pair of them in the ten years they'd known each other, Bucky sighed. He slid his arms behind his head and made a very difficult decision. Carefully, he called out softly, "Steve . . . do you think a fella can be queer and still hang with dames?" Bucky winced, wondering if the question would send Steve scrambling for another place to live . . . knowing Bucky might be interested in actually doing more with a man . . . more than just fooling around while they waited for dames.

The small man paused for a moment before turning his head so that his voice would no longer be muffled by the pillow. Slowly, almost cautiously, Steve answered back, "Sure." What was Bucky saying? Did he know how Steve felt about him?

Taking another deep breath, Bucky added, "And that a queer man can maybe someday get married and have a family?"

"I don't know. I guess? What are you saying?" Steve called out, his body frozen on the bed.

Bucky didn't move, not wanting to see how his admission would horrify, even disgust his best friend. What he felt was illegal, immoral if you asked the church. "I'm queer, Steve." He closed his eyes in the darkened room, "I can look for a new place tomorrow." At least with the free medical and food Steve's doctor provided, the blond would only need to scrape together rent money without Bucky's help.

Steve felt like his heart lurched into his throat, he waited a few seconds before sitting up. "You're queer?" The blond asked again, wanting to make sure he heard everything correctly.

Cringing, Bucky swallowed hard. "Yeah, but I don't want to put you in danger . . . yeah, me over-worrying about you yet again. I get it. You're a grown man and can take care of yourself. You certainly don't need me hovering over you . . . holding you back."

The blond stood up, letting his friend continue his nervous babble, and walked into the living room, where Bucky lay on the small bed, arms behind his head, eyes closed. Quietly, the blond made his way over to the brunet and knelt down beside the bed. Gently, Steve pressed his lips to Bucky's.

Surprise washed over the brunet and his eyes flew open, his words halting immediately. "Steve?" he breathed, confused and almost afraid.

"You know something, Buck?" Steve smirked, pressing their lips together again.

Bucky didn't respond though his hands came up to grasp Steve's shoulders lightly. "What?" he breathed into Steve's mouth, his fear in his voice.

"I'm queer, too," the blond admitted. "Never thought much of dames."

Blinking, Bucky pushed Steve back enough to be able to study his face. Slowly, he said, "you're . . . like me?" He felt confused and hopeful and so scared.

"Yeah, Buck. That's why I was so concerned with you being happy with me. I want to make you happy . . . to satisfy you," Steve said, heat flushing his cheeks.

Suddenly, Bucky pulled Steve onto his chest, kissing him fiercely. "God, Steve, no one else could ever satisfy me like you do." He moved his lips to Steve's neck, right by his ear, and growled softly, "I love you, punk!" Eyes widening, Bucky realized what he'd admitted to and froze, praying he hadn't scared Steve off for good despite their admissions.

Gasping softly at the admission, Steve looked down at his best friend, "You love me? You mean that, Buck? You really love me?" the blond whispered.

Groaning, Bucky nodded. "Yeah," he sighed. "I've been in love with you since you were sixteen, Stevie." He began to sit Steve up, preparing for the other man's rejection. Just because Steve was queer didn't mean he wanted to tie himself to his childhood friend.

Suddenly, Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky's neck and crashed their lips together hard. He gently nipped and tugged at the brunet's bottom lip. Pulling away slightly, Steve breathed, "God . . . I love you too, Buck. I love you so much."

"You do?" Bucky blinked surprised grey-blue eyes. He pulled Steve against him, snuggly onto his lap. "You sure, Stevie? I mean . . . wow!" He had to think this through. They had to be careful, more than ever, so no one would figure it out. He refused to endanger Steve.

Steve leaned forward and tugged at Bucky's earlobe with his teeth, before whispering, "I've never been so sure of anything before in my life. I am in love with you, Buck."

"Steve," Bucky said softly, "You may not wanna hear it, but you've gotta listen to me." He breathed in the scent of his love. "We have to keep dating dames, you know? If we stop, people will get suspicious." He tilted Steve's face up, worry in his face. "No promises or nothing to them, of course . . . unless you find one you fancy?" Bucky left that option open. It was possible Steve didn't really know his own mind yet. He studied the other man's eyes. Softly, trying to remove the sting from his words, Bucky added, "I love you so much, Stevie Rogers."

The blond didn't like the idea of having to still date dames, but he knew that what Bucky said made sense. If this was going to work, they would need to keep it secret, people couldn't find out. Slowly, Steve nodded, "Alright, but I won't find anyone else that I fancy more than you, James Buchanan Barnes. I love you . . . more than you'll ever know."

Slowly, kissing the blond between words, Bucky said "You . . . are . . . the . . . end . . . of . . . my. . . line. . . . Steve."

xxx

Continued in Chapter Eleven: Desperate Explorations