After a lovely stretch on the Pacific Coast Highway, Bucky drove Steve up the mountain road to a cabin. The two-story home was on the mountain side of the highway, high enough to have a wonderful view of the ocean and enough distance from tourists and locals alike. The cabin was built out of western red cedar, with dark blue trim. There were solar panels on the sloped, south-facing roof and a rain barrel alongside the small garage/workshop. The front porch ran the length of the building, and native plants surrounded the whole cabin.

"Wow." Steve seemed charmed when he exited the car.

"Suits that whole lumberjack look you got going right now."

"Jerk."

Bucky unlocked the front door and waved Steve in. Steve dropped his duffle bag in the entryway and kicked off his muddy boots. Bucky also took off his shoes and hung his and Steve's jackets on the hooks near the door. He held back, watching Steve nose about the living room.

Steve first was distracted by the books on the coffee table. Gardening and science fiction. He smiled at Bucky and then ran his hand along the mantel above the large fireplace. His hand paused at a frame holding two portraits, the ones Steve himself had drawn of the Barnes sisters and of his mother, Sarah. After shooting a quick, questioning glance at Bucky, Steve assessed the rest of the room. Upholstery and curtains were in shades of green, from dark forest to sea foam, complementing the trees seen through the large windows. He strode over to the kitchen, which was completely open to the living room. He located the appliances, rested his hands on the marble countertops, used his hands to estimate the dimensions of the kitchen island, and smelled the herbs growing in the window box.

Tremulously, Steve said, "Bucky?"

"You wanna see the rest?"

The guest room with an adjacent bathroom was on the first floor with the living room and the kitchen. It was furnished with a king-sized bed and a heather grey sofa, both draped in muted red blankets. There were matching red window treatments and throw rugs on the hardwood floors. The bathroom was bright and modern with storage for linens and toiletries. Both rooms were pristine, ready to use, but showing no signs of having been used.

Steve said, "The master bed and bath are upstairs."

It wasn't a question.

Bucky followed Steve up the stairs.

The master suite took up the entire second floor. More of Steve's sketches and paintings decorated the room, with its color scheme of navy blue and light grey. Large windows let in an abundance of natural light. There was a fireplace and two chairs with throw blankets arranged in front of it. The bathroom had a large marble shower stall, a jetted tub, and a vanity with two sinks. The bed had a skylight above it.

"How did you do all this in just a few months?"

Bucky couldn't help the gentle exasperation in his voice. "Stevie, I've been working on this on-and-off since the Return."

"But…" Steve appeared completely unmoored as he waved his hands the room around him. "This… this is the home we designed."

Bucky stepped closer to Steve, looking directly into his eyes. "I had to be ready. Because the way I saw it, I had two choices. I could make my peace with your decision and bring you home with me to live out your last years or…"

Steve was seldom one for patience. "And the other choice?"

For the first time that day, Bucky let his tears flow freely. "I could never really believe you'd leave me behind like that. That you decided we had reached the end of the line."

Suddenly Bucky was enveloped in Steve's strong arms. He cried into Steve's neck and felt his right shoulder grow damp with Steve's tears. Steve carded his fingers through Bucky's long hair, and Bucky clung to him, digging his fingers in Steve's back, realizing how touch-starved he'd been ever since Thanos had snapped him away.

Bucky didn't know how much time had passed, but Steve's repeated whispers of thank you required a response. He pulled away slightly so Steve could witness his sincerity. "I'll never give up on you, Steve. No need to thank me. It's just the goddamn truth. Even the universe seems to have stopped trying to separate us."

That earned a smile from Steve. "Damned right."

Bucky grabbed some tissues from a box on one of the nightstands. He handed one to Steve. "Let's head back down. I could use a drink."

They shared a bottle of wine neither of them could really feel while sprawled on the sofa, their legs tangled together. Their glasses finally empty, Steve asked, "Should I take the guest room?"

Bucky's heart started to pound. This conversation had been waiting a long time to happen. "That depends, are you leaving or are you staying?"

"What do you want?"

Bucky huffed out a sad laugh. "I built our home, Steve." He sat up, and Steve mirrored his pose, side-by-side with their thighs touching. "What I want is all around you."

Steve gently placed his hand on the back of Bucky's neck, and Bucky let Steve draw him close until their foreheads touched. "Then I'm staying. Because you, Buck, you're my home."

Bucky breathed out the only word etched deep in his bones. "Steve."

They remained like that until Bucky built up the courage to ask the next big question. It wouldn't be fair to make Steve do all the work. "Sharing the bed, like we did in Wakanda?"

Steve bit his lower lip as he looked up at Bucky through those long lashes of his. Bucky's heart skipped a beat or two. Steve said, "I've never slept as well as I do when I'm with you. Must be all those years of you nursing me through the night."

"Never minded taking care of you." Bucky's cheeks warmed as he whispered, "Sometimes I think I can only sleep with you next to me."

Steve nodded, a silent acknowledgement of the nightmares he knew visited them both. Then Steve said, "Did you ever think…"

Bucky sucked in a nervous breath. "Hmm?"

"Did you ever think about us, you know, not sleeping in the bed?"

"You mean being awake? Sleeping in a tent?" Bucky asked, slyly. He wasn't the only one blushing, at least.

"No, you jerk, I mean…" Steve groaned in frustration. "Bucky, do you want me like that?"

Bucky decided to put Steve out of his misery and give him an answer, no matter what Steve might feel in response. "I've wanted you since I first understood what it meant to want."

Steve giggled. Bucky sensed his relief because he felt it, too.

"I love you so much, Buck."

"I love you, too, Steve."

And they'd said the words before, of course, they had, but never like this. Never with all the ways a man could love another man embedded in the meaning. Steve's gaze dropped to his mouth as he leaned slightly towards Bucky, whose heart hurt to stop him. "Steve, I just need to say…"

Bucky couldn't get the rest of the words out, just a whimper. In response, Steve drew their foreheads together again as Bucky found his bearings. "It's okay, Buck. We've got time. But you can tell me anything. Anything."

"I know. Sweetheart, I know. It's just… this body…" Bucky paused, visions of torture and punishment and experiments flittering through his mind. He fought them away with the memories of Wakanda. Of the brief, competent, yet impersonal touches of its doctors and the gentle hands of its children braiding his hair. He finally forced out, "This body hasn't known much kindness."

Bucky watched as Steve pushed down his anger, his guilt, over everything Bucky had endured. Then, after a moment, a grim smile appeared on his face. "Captain America has been offered a lot of kindness over the years. But Steve Rogers? Not so much."

Bucky replied with a smile of his own, one full of love for the man facing him. "Guess it's good I've always been an expert in taking care of you."

Steve gently rubbed his hands up and down Bucky's arms. A light, careful touch, but it didn't make Bucky feel delicate or fragile. Steve made him feel treasured.

Bucky ran his right hand over Steve's beard. The texture was softer than it appeared, and Bucky scratched his nails back through it until he tipped Steve's chin up. "May I?"

"Please."

Love and comfort filled Bucky's heart, and the moment felt as right as holding out a hand in friendship to a scrawny little boy in Brooklyn a century ago. Their first kiss was quick and chaste. It left them both smiling and in tears.

Bucky stood. "C'mon, I haven't shown ya the backyard yet."

Steve's eyes lit up as Bucky grabbed his hand and hauled him up. "I believe there is a place out there you'd like to see."

Behind the cabin and separated from it by a short distance was a smaller building with a northern wall composed solely of windows. An easel and a drawing desk were visible within. Steve emitted a tiny cheer and sped ahead, with Bucky strolling more leisurely behind him. He wanted Steve to have a few minutes to himself before entering the space Bucky had created for him.

By the time Bucky entered the studio, Steve was rummaging through the assembled selection of acrylics, watercolors, pencils, and charcoals. "I hope you approve."

"This is amazing." Steve was grinning like he did when they'd gifted each other meager birthday presents in the past. "I know we'd talked about it, but this is better than I ever imagined."

Bucky pointed to a door in the corner. "That's a bathroom. This counter has electricity for an espresso machine or microwave or whatever you might want. There are sketchbooks and canvases in a variety of sizes in those cabinets. And that couch is mine, so I can keep you company while you work."

"Can't stay away?" Steve flirted, a hopeful lilt to his voice.

Adorable. Bucky felt himself smile helplessly in return. "Not when I finally have you to myself." He walked over to the door of the studio and swept his arm towards the yard. "I have more to show you."

Hand-in-hand, they strolled through the property. Bucky showed Steve how he'd cleared the brush to create a firebreak, and they decided to volunteer at the fire department together. Bucky also pointed out the deck on the second floor outside the master suite, the locker of firewood, the trailhead that would lead them up the mountainside.

Steve stopped them at a particularly picturesque spot. "We should take a selfie. Send it to Sam."

"He'll be very smug about all this, you know." Bucky rolled his eyes. "And Shuri, too."

"Best to tell them now, like ripping off a bandage."

Steve set the timer on his phone camera and held out his arm, while he put his other arm over Bucky's shoulders. Right as the countdown ended, Steve playfully kissed Bucky's cheek, causing him to laugh. Steve brought up the image, then covered his mouth, as if dismayed.

Bucky grabbed the phone away. "How bad could this photo possibly be?"

Tears immediately filled his eyes. The photo wasn't bad at all. But what it showed was devastating. "We look happy. Oh, Steve, god, we're happy."

Their second kiss was longer than the first.

Eventually, arms around each other, they walked back towards the cabin. As they passed the planting beds, Bucky showed Steve how to pick ripe tomatoes, then they watched the sunset over the Pacific from a bench he'd built at the highest elevation on the property. Steve snapped a photo of the sunset, too, then sent it and their selfie to Sam and Shuri. No words necessary.

After they went inside, Bucky tore some basil from the window box and prepared fresh tomato soup. He watched Steve as he moved around the kitchen, finding bowls and silverware in the first places he looked. Steve smiled each time, and Bucky was glad. He'd stocked the kitchen based on placements in their old Brooklyn apartment and their shared Wakandan flat. "Slice that loaf of sourdough, will ya?"

"Did you bake it?"

"No. But the bakery I buy it from is half the reason I picked this spot for our home."

After dinner, they curled up under blankets on the sofa, their sofa, and between sweet, increasingly confident kisses, they talked. Talked about how much Steve missed Tony and Nat, talked about Bucky choosing this location and building the cabin. Talked about the five years Steve spent thinking Bucky was gone forever, talked about the past year when Bucky thought the future he and Steve had planned was lost to him forever. They talked about their youth, the Howlies, their precious time getting to know each other again in Wakanda.

Eventually, Steve yawned.

"Time for bed?" Bucky smiled as Steve yawned again.

"Yeah." Steve reached for Bucky's hand. They walked up the stairs, fingers entwined.

They instinctively followed their established night-time routine, taking turns to use the bathroom although the vanity, tub, and shower stall could easily accommodate two retired super soldiers. Bucky appreciated the privacy, and he knew Steve needed a few moments alone to decompress. The emotions of the day had exhausted them both, but it was a good exhaustion. It felt like an accomplishment.

Steve had thoughtfully placed glasses of water on each nightstand and had turned off all the lights except for the one on Bucky's side of the bed. Because, yes, after decades of sleeping next to each other on-and-off, they remembered each others' preferences. Steve remembered that younger Bucky usually read long into the night and, more recently, sometimes he needed to leave one light on to stave off the memories that haunted him. "Thanks, Stevie."

Both had changed into their usual nightclothes, thin t-shirts and soft sleep shorts. Steve drew back the covers, but hesitated before getting in the bed. He caught Bucky's eye, and Bucky recognized the challenge in that gaze an instant before Steve took off his shirt. Bucky had seen Steve shirtless before, of course, many times. Might have even been afraid of being caught staring, but couldn't help himself. A desire to touch that Bucky learned to resist long before Steve took the serum. But tonight, for the first time, he was being invited to touch. The sort of cocky smile that had come so easily to him in his youth appeared on his face as he pulled off his own shirt.

Bucky had never been shy about his body, but the scars had taken time for him to get used to. He concealed them when possible, but tonight he felt no discomfort. And the way Steve's eyes hungrily roved over his chest mirrored how Bucky looked back at him.

But Steve still didn't get into the bed. Instead, one of his hands reached for the drawstring of his shorts, but paused. "I'm not going to say I don't want you, but I'm not asking for anything to happen tonight. I just want…"

The thought of curling up to Steve, skin-on-skin, appealed to Bucky. He reached for his own shorts, took them off, and crawled into the bed. "Come to bed, Steve."

Steve hesitated, as if surprised Bucky went through with it. "I mean, there have been studies that show babies bond more quickly with…"

"Steven Grant Rogers, just admit you want some naked cuddling and get in here."

With an undignified chuckle, Steve stripped and got under the covers.

Bucky turned out the light. Illumination from the night sky filtered through the skylight. The open expression on Steve's face made the pain of the past years seem far away. "You're so beautiful, Steve."

Steve reached out and caressed Bucky's jaw. "You were always the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. So many sketchbooks full of you."

It was hard to believe, that all those years Bucky had hidden his feelings, Steve was doing the same thing. "You really loved me all this time?"

Steve nodded as he ran his hand through Bucky's hair. "Ma knew."

A century old fear of disappointing Sarah Rogers flooded through Bucky. "What?"

"She guessed how I felt about you, and she said she thought you felt the same way." Steve placed a soft kiss in the palm of Bucky's vibranium hand. "She said she knew we'd have it rough, but it comforted her to know that when she passed I'd still have someone who loved me."

Bucky sighed in relief. "Always."

They settled into their preferred sleeping position, Steve's head resting on Bucky's chest. It was a habit established in their teenage years, Steve inhaling and exhaling with the rise and fall of Bucky's chest, while Bucky rubbed his back to ease his breathing.

Bucky kissed the top of Steve's head. "Good night, sweetheart."

"Good night, Buck." Bucky felt a kiss on his shoulder as Steve nuzzled closer.

Steve almost instantly drifted off to sleep. He had known Steve was tired, but Bucky was also proud he still provided the safe haven this misunderstood man had always needed. He held Steve tightly and looked up at sky through the window above.

Bucky was pleased with his skylight design. There was a switch by the bed that could extend a thin shade, a blackout shade, or a wood panel to match the rest of the ceiling, so they could illuminate the room based on mood or weather. The cabin was high enough up the mountain to be above the marine layer much of the time, and tonight's sky was clear and full of stars.

They had watched the stars together from summer-warmed rooftops in Brooklyn, embattled fields in Europe, a tranquil lakeside in Wakanda. But this was the first time they'd been under the stars together since they'd both been out amongst them.

"What's so funny?"

Bucky hadn't realized it, but he had started to giggle. He nudged Steve so his head remained on Bucky's shoulder, but looking up. "Steve, see those stars? We've been out there."

Steve let out a brief laugh of his own. "That's still so hard to believe."

"What are the odds, Stevie, that we would have been through so much? Lived through the Depression, fought in World War II, turned into super soldiers, spent most of the Twentieth century frozen, woke up in the future, traveled into space, and saved the universe. We are the only two people in the world, the only two who have ever lived to have shared these experiences."

"I wouldn't have wanted to share these experiences with anyone else."

"Really?" Because while he had only ever loved Steve, Bucky knew how much Peggy meant to him.

Steve turned over, throwing one leg over Bucky and looking down at him. He knew what Bucky was thinking because he said, "I loved Peggy, I think. I know I loved the idea of her. But you are the first person I ever loved, and you'll be the last."

Bucky allowed those words to assure him, and he parted his legs in invitation. Steve settled between them, but propped himself on his arms above Bucky, not touching, not moving. Starlight brightened the room enough to see the happiness in Steve's smile and the love in his eyes. Bucky appreciated the thoughtfulness, the kindness Steve was showing to him. To be given the choice of how and when to be touched.

Bucky waited for panic to overtake him, but instead of feeling suffocated, he felt free. Steve wasn't a trap above him or a cage trapping him inside; instead, he was a shield.

Bucky placed one hand on Steve's hip and the other on the back of his neck, pulling him down gently until their bodies were flush against each other. They lay there, unmoving, just sharing heat and closeness. The weight of Steve pressing him into the mattress was comforting, not constricting, making Bucky almost want to weep with gratitude. Steve had burrowed his face into Bucky's neck, where he felt the contented sigh Steve exhaled as he settled heavier onto Bucky.

This sensation of peace was a stranger to Bucky, who took a few moments to search his memories. Had he ever been this close to someone without violence? In truth, he could only remember huddling with Steve during cold winter nights, holding him through long illnesses, comforting each other in trenches. But the last time Bucky had been this close to someone, it'd been Steve high above the Potomac, trying to kill him, but deep down somehow knowing he didn't want to. That last time, closeness brought fear with it.

At that thought, he flipped Steve over onto his back. He searched for a glimpse of fear on Steve's face, their positions reminiscent of their fight on the helicarrier, so long ago. But all he saw on Steve's face was happiness, desire, and anticipation, and maybe not a little bit of intrigue that Bucky could toss him around. Bucky lowered his body onto Steve's and relaxed into his warmth. He smelled a scent as familiar as his own and smiled.

And Bucky believed for the first time that maybe he could have this. That he could love and be loved, want and be wanted. That he could experience pleasure, maybe even deserve pleasure. That he could chase pleasure.

He placed a kiss on Steve's shoulder and was rewarded by those strong arms around him. He placed a kiss higher up on Steve's neck and felt Steve's hands lower to his hips. Bucky shifted to bring a kiss to Steve's lips, and the delicious friction of that motion elicited a gasp from Steve. A gasp which Bucky chased with his mouth. And after that, things got a bit frantic and clumsy, filled with laughter and encouraging murmurs. Steve's hands in Bucky's long hair. Bucky's fingers in Steve's mouth. Rough swipes of tongues, tender nuzzling of noses, heated scrapes of nails, soft moans of ecstasy.

Finally, they found themselves much as they started, albeit messier, stickier and even happier. Bucky was rubbing Steve's back, while Steve entwined his fingers in Bucky's hair. So many nights of ashamed wakefulness, wanting this in his youth. On the run after escaping from Hydra, trying to figure out if these thoughts were memories or unfulfilled dreams. During his recovery in Wakanda, knowing he'd loved Steve, but willing to accept whatever Steve would give him. And every damned night he thought his Steve was lost to him forever. Bucky couldn't believe the best man he'd ever known wanted to be his lover, as well as his friend. And after all these years, decades of separation and suffering, they were alive together and didn't have to hide their feelings away.

"We can have this. God, Bucky, we can have this."

To hear Steve echo Bucky's thoughts was a revelation in its own right. Bucky knew of Steve's deep insecurities better than anyone, but he'd at least thought Steve knew he was worthy of love. At some point soon, they'd need to talk about the pain all the years of separation had caused. That they'd willingly died for each other, but needed to relearn how to live with each other. They'd need to get over years of being afraid to love each other openly and learn how to be partners, not just on the playground or the battlefield, but in life.

"I love you." Steve whispered, as he nestled even closer.

Bucky reached for Steve's hand and held it to his chest, so Steve could feel how Bucky's heart was beating for him. "I love you, too."

As they clung to each other, Bucky pressed lingering kisses to Steve's hair, his forehead, his temple. Yes, they'd need to make decisions about how they wanted to spend their future together. But for now, Bucky and Steve were going to spend the night in each other's arms, certain in the knowledge they'd be there for each other in the morning.