Steve Rogers stood tall, grass riding up past his ankles. His face presented stoicism, but he was far from prepared for the choice he had made. He was tired, god he was tired. He knew what he wanted to do, but he couldn't leave Bucky here. How was it fair to leave his best friend in a time he doesn't belong in knowing what damages it had done to himself so long ago.
"I'm gonna miss you, buddy," Bucky said with a choked voice.
"It'll be alright," he says because he doesn't know what else to say. He hates that he's doing this, leaving him alone. A part of him wishes they were teenagers in the Brookline apartment again, dancing slowly to Benny Goodman with the blinds drawn. That life was gone, he had lived it.
Steve Rogers was not the same man he was in 1930. He has seen tragedies he thought he would never survive to see and fought in battles with gods. Sure, a part of his heart would always remain in Brookline with Bucky and his coy, boyish grin, but his heart belonged to someone else now. Nausea still swarmed in his stomach as he proved to Bucky he had not forgotten their life together, how much he had meant to him.
"Don't do anything stupid until I get back," He says, swallowing back the tears.
"How can I," he smiles, long brown hair shining in the sunlight cast through the trees, "you're taking all the stupid with you."
They collapse into an embrace, but it's not one of sadness. It's one of acceptance and long sated love, and Steve pulls away with tears in his eyes. He doesn't take his eyes off of Bucky until he's on the platform.
He returns the infinity stones with great difficulty, and by the time he is ready to travel to his final destination, he is bone tired. Steve looks down at the final bottle of Pym particles in his suit and taps the final coordinates.
With a deep inhale of the city air, he observes his surroundings. The New York skyline is undamaged and wonderful, trees lining the sidewalks and happy people walking on them.
He turns to the building in front of him, painfully familiar yet so different.
Tall and proud the Stark Tower stands, oval and sleek. His feet glide over the pathway to the entrance with false confidence. The main office is different than the Avengers tower one; cleaner and flashier with more woman sitting at reception desks.
"How can I help you, sir?" one says.
He taps his fingers nervously on the steel, "I am here to see Tony Stark."
She laughs, "Well Mr. Stark doesn't just take visitors, sir, not without an appointment."
Steve nods, "Yes ma'am, can you tell him Steve Rogers is here to speak with him?"
Her eyes go wide, and he can tell she doesn't believe him, but she sends him up the elevator anyway. The ride is painfully slow.
"JARVIS, what's the temp of the core in here?" Steve nearly melts. It's Tony's voice, young and smooth as ever. He squeezes his eyes tight to try and clear his head.
"Sir, you have a visitor at the door," JARVIS says.
"I'm not scheduled for any visitors today, get them out." he doesn't look up from the bomb casing he's working on.
"Sir, I believe you will want to speak with him." JARVIS timidly says.
Steve can feel Tony's eyes rolling as he turns around, face covered in oil and sweat. Steve reminds himself to breathe.
"Who the hell are you?" he asks, wiping the grease with a cloth.
"Steve Rogers." He waits, and Tony laughs in his face.
Steve explains as much as he can. He explains the Ice and who finds his body ten years from now, and how he is from the future. He explains the time traveling, but avoids everything about the Avengers, they have to figure that out together. He gives personal details about Howard to prove himself and it works, but Tony seems extremely flustered.
"So why did you come, cap? The future huh? Am I an asshole there too?" he cocks an eyebrow.
Steve's eyes glisten red as he smiles, "The biggest."
Steve gazes out over the lake water, tired legs resting on the bench. He observes the shine of the orange sunlight and waits for the inevitable. He is at absolute peace.
Sam sits cautiously beside him and remains quiet for a moment.
"Did something go horribly wrong, or right?"
Steve smiles but doesn't answer. His wedding ring is heavy on his finger.
"I'm happy for you," Sam says. Steve nods.
"I have something for you," he takes the shield and hands it over, shades of metal gleaming.
Sam takes it and holds it, Steve thinks it suits him very well.
"How's it feel?" he asks.
"Like someone else's."
"It's not," Steve fiddles with his ring.
Sam pauses and looks at the ring, "You want to tell me about her?" he asks, corner of his lip turning.
"No," Steve says, picturing Tony's grin, "No I don't think I will."
Though his muscles are worn, and his face is wrinkled, his memory is sharp, so he closes his bright blue eyes and recalls one more memory.
He holds Tony close, arms wrapped around each other as the dance to the music. They built a life for themselves here, and maybe there are no aliens to kill and no bad guys to catch, but they are happy. Steve brushes a few of Tony's early grey hairs from his face and smiles.
"What's the matter Rogers, am I getting too old for even the hundred-year-old man himself?"
Steve pulls him impossibly closer, their noses touching. "I love you, Tony," he breathes gently, savoring every moment he has with him.
"No mood for humor then, alright," he teases, but brings them into a slow kiss as they move together to the music, golden rings laced together.