Well here we are, second chapter already! This one isn't as shameless as the last one, but it is very fluffy. There will be shameless hugging, but it doesn't happen until the end. Hopefully it's worth the wait.
It's weird, I almost felt like this chapter should have been added onto "First Hint of Spring" instead, but at the same time the whole thing was just so fluffy, so I put it here.
Must give a quick shout-out to FantasytoHeart, who suggested in a review for "First Hint of Spring" that I should write about Bucky's birthday. Here it is, hon! It's not exactly what you suggested, but it is inspired by it and I really, really hope you like it!
Warnings: Language, shameless fluff and hugging. Oh, it's fluffy.
x
"I don't know what to do," Steve admits, running a hand through his hair.
He watches as Sam slides his drink back and forth across the table between his hands, back and forth, back and forth, and sighs. He glances toward the bedroom. He can see Bucky's feet from here, up on the bed.
Today was not good.
His friend had had severe nightmares last night, worse than he'd had in a while, and the result was a day of Bucky curled up on the couch, shivering constantly, pressed against Steve's side, unwilling to step outside or even move at all, really. His eyes had been dark all day, lost in memory and fear, and even though Steve had been holding him, he'd felt pretty damn helpless.
By the end of the day – well, not really the end, it was only 6 o'clock – Bucky had been so exhausted, he'd actually let Steve half-carry him to the bedroom – but he'd refused to sleep. So Steve had stayed with him, the two of them sitting on the bed like kids at a sleepover, talking (Steve mostly), watching as Bucky had slowly gone from sitting, to leaning back on his elbows, to fully laying down, and then finally drifting off. Steve had left the room silently, sitting in the living room in the growing darkness until Sam had texted, asking if he could come over.
Now they're sitting in the kitchen, Steve just finishing telling Sam about their day.
"You're doing all you can, Steve." Sam stops moving his glass.
"Well, sometimes it doesn't feel like it's enough." Steve looks away, out the window.
"Steve."
Steve turns reluctantly. Sam's dark eyes are gentle, and Steve knows he understands. "There's only so much you can do. Some things – some things can't be fixed quickly. Some things arent even fixable. And I know you know that already, I'm not trying to say you don't. I'm just saying. But you're there for him, Steve, and that's what he needs. Just keep doing that. Be there for him." The setting sun throws pink and gold rays across Sam's face, and Steve blinks, looks away.
He glances toward the bedroom again, checking for any signs of movement. "You know his birthday is coming up?"
"Bucky's? Really?" Sam drinks the last of his Coke.
"Yeah. Friday." Steve rubs his jawline. "I'm not sure what to do."
"Have you told him about it?"
"No." Steve leans his elbows on the table, tents his fingers. "I don't know if I should bring it up."
"Why not?" Sam pushes his chair back quietly, goes to the recycling bin to throw out the can.
"I don't know." Steve looks out the window again. I don't even know what it would mean to him anymore. I don't even know what my birthday means to me anymore. How old am I? Am I ninety-six years old or am I twenty-nine? Does it matter?
Sam picks up his jacket. "I should get going. I've got a meeting in the morning."
Steve walks with him to the door, and right before he leaves, Sam taps the door frame and turns back. "Steve? You should tell him."
X
"You know, it's your birthday on Friday."
Steve's at the sink washing dishes, and Bucky's standing right next to him with the towel. It's two days since he brought it up with Sam – it's Tuesday now - and in that time he'd come to the decision that it's not about how old they are, it's not about if it matters, it's about what birthdays were always about – celebrating the day that that person came into the world. And that is definitely something that still matters to him.
Bucky glances at him, his blue eyes sharp. "What? It is?"
"Yeah." Steve smiles at him, turns off the water. "So I was thinking we should do something to celebrate."
Bucky just stares at him, confused, so Steve gently takes the towel from him and finishes drying the dishes.
"I don't remember," he says after a moment, and Steve smiles again.
"That's okay. You don't have to. I remembered for you."
Bucky frowns, tucks his hair behind one ear. "How old am I?"
Steve laughs. "Well, that depends on if you count all those years you were frozen. If you do, you're..." he pauses, thinks about it. "Ninety-seven. If you don't, you're twenty-eight. Which means... hmm. I'm kind of older than you now. Wow, now that's weird."
Bucky is just staring at him, his eyebrows furrowed, and Steve wonders if it's all too much to take in at once.
"We don't have to do anything," he says quickly. "If you don't want. I just thought..."
"What did we do? Before." Bucky looks at the floor, and Steve wonders if he's trying to remember.
Steve leans against the door frame, shrugs. "Well – one year we went to Coney Island, and one year we just went for drinks at the bar. I think that was maybe the year you turned eighteen. Another time we went camping. Lots of stuff. Whatever you wanted to do at the time."
He watches Bucky's expression, but it doesn't really change. He still looks confused. "I don't know. I don't remember." He finally looks up, and Steve can see in his eyes that he's still lost in the nightmares from two nights ago.
"You don't have to know," he says quickly. "You've still got a few days. Or we don't have to do anything."
Bucky's eyes are dark, even in the sunlit kitchen, and he frowns at Steve. "I don't know."
X
They're watching TV later that night, and Steve is staunchly refusing to bring up the birthday subject again even though that's what he desperately wants to talk about. Bucky has been extremely quiet all day, and even now, sitting with his shoulder pressed up against Steve's, he doesn't look happy. Steve can't tell if it's from the nightmares or the birthday thing and he doesn't want to ask.
His phone rings, making them both jump, and he pats Bucky's foot as he stands up. "Be right back, Buck."
He goes out to the hallway. "Hello?"
"Hey Captain Crunch." Tony's voice sounds far away, Steve can hear a rushing noise in the back. Driving?
"Hi, Tony." Steve sighs, rubs his forehead. "What is it?"
"So good to hear your voice, too. Listen – so I heard it's the T1000's birthday on Friday and I'm sending over a little prez. Just giving you a heads up. Possibly the rest of our rock band might send something too."
Steve gapes into the phone for a good thirty seconds. "How did you know about that?" Sam and Tony talk? T1000?
"Do you really think Fury doesn't know everything about everything? He is the all-seeing eye. Get it? Cause he's got just – nevermind. Fury. Fury told me." A loud horn sounds in the back and Tony swears.
Steve can't think of what to say. "Uh. Wait. Okay. Tony, you don't have to –"
"Take a breath, Spangles. It's not a big deal. We're all friends. Anyway – I gotta go. Later."
The phone clicks off, and Steve stares at his phone in shock.
Everybody else is sending presents and I haven't even figured out what to get for him yet?
X
Bucky is still quiet for the next couple of days, but whenever Steve asks him if he's okay, he insists he is. "I'm just thinking", is his reply every time, so Steve stops asking after a bit. Sometimes Bucky just sits on the couch, staring at the wall, and when he looks at Steve his eyes are a light, light blue.
That's always a good thing. So hopefully he's thinking about good things.
The first box gets there on Thursday evening, the day before Bucky's birthday. It's small, and addressed to "Sergeant James Barnes". There is no return address.
"It's for you," Steve says, holding it out, and Bucky, who is sitting on the floor in front of the couch reading a book, stares. He makes no move to take it.
"What is it?"
"I don't know." Steve shakes it a little bit, there's no sound. "I think maybe it's a present."
Bucky puts down his book. "A present?" He's eyeing the box as if it might be a bomb.
"Yeah. Because – because it's your birthday tomorrow." Steve crouches down next to him, puts the box on the floor between them.
Bucky leans away slightly. "From who?"
"I don't know, actually. One of the Avengers." Steve turns the box over again. It could be from any one of them – none of them would leave a return address. Except for possibly Tony. So we can rule out that it's from Tony. "Do you want me to open it?" He asks gently after a moment, and after a moment's consideration, Bucky nods.
Steve opens it carefully, making sure Bucky can see what he's doing the whole time. Inside is a piece of paper, and underneath it a new cellphone, still in its box. Bucky stares openly as Steve picks up the paper and turns it over.
Hi, Bucky. Happy Birthday. I know we haven't met properly yet, but I look forward to the day that we do. I thought you might like your own phone so you can stay in contact with Steve when he's not around. Steve has my number too, and all the other Avengers' numbers as well so if you want to call us for any reason, now you can. This phone isn't complicated, but it's a good one. I hope you like it. Natasha.
He hands the note to Bucky wordlessly, and Bucky reads it rapidly, then looks up at him. "Natasha?" he says after a moment, frowning. "The – the woman with red hair?"
"That's her." Steve smiles.
Bucky looks down at the phone. "I tried to kill her. Why would she send me this?" He pushes it away a little, and Steve pushes it back.
"Because you're past all that, Buck. She just wants to be friends now."
But Bucky still looks upset and won't touch the phone, so Steve puts the note back in the box and closes it, puts the whole thing up on the counter. Later.
The next time the doorbell rings, the postman has two more boxes – one large and flat, and one huge and square – plus two envelopes.
Tony wasn't kidding. "It's for you, Buck," Steve calls.
He carries them into the living room and watches Bucky's mouth drop open in surprise. "From who?"
"Everybody else, I'd say."
Bucky stands up and comes over, and Steve watches his expression carefully. His eyes are slowly lightening as he looks at the boxes, although the rest of his face still looks confused.
"Open them," Steve says with a grin. What the heck am I going to get him? His birthday is tomorrow and I still haven't got a single idea.
"Will –" Bucky pauses, swallows, looks up at him. "Will you help me?"
Steve is tempted to say no, tell him that it's his first birthday in seventy-something years and he should open his gifts himself, but his friend's expression is so lost and confused he can't make himself do it. So he gets a box cutter and they sit on the floor in the living room together.
"Open these first." Steve hands him the two envelopes, and watches as Bucky opens the first one gingerly. He has to smile. Bucky's metal hand can be so careful and precise when he wants it to be.
The first card has a sad-looking puppy on the front, and the printed message "Sorry I messed up". Huge loopy writing covers the inside of the card, squished in some spots because there wasn't enough room, and between them they manage to decipher it.
Friend Barnes, I would like to apologize for our last meeting. I was not thinking. My brother says that I am a fool and I never think, but he is also a spoiled child. I would like to wish you a very happy Birth Day, and I hope we may meet soon, properly this time. Yours very respectfully, Thor Odinson.
Bucky frowns at the card, but his eyes lighten as he looks at the picture of the puppy. "The electric man?" He asks, looking at Steve sideways, and Steve nods.
"Yup, that's him." He wants to laugh, because in a way the puppy is a perfect representation of Thor, but he doesn't.
The second card is from Clint, and the first box they open – a big flat one - is from Sam. Inside are four records – Bing Crosby, The Andrews Sisters, Vera Lynn, and Glenn Miller. A note on top says Happy Birthday Bucky! These are vintage records from the 1940s. Steve's already got a record player so you can definitely play them. I hope you like them! See you soon and have a great day! All my best, Sam.
Bucky doesn't say anything, but he takes each of the records out of the box and puts them on the floor around him. His eyes are soft, and his right hand lingers on each of them for a long time. Steve blinks and finds he has to swallow hard several times.
The second box is the huge one, and there isn't any question who sent it, because there's a big picture of Tony's face taped to the outside with a speech bubble photoshopped onto it that reads "HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUCKSTER".
Bucky makes a face at the picture, but he looks like he wants to laugh, too, and Steve sighs.
Bucky opens this one himself, and to Steve's horror it is full of Captain America merchandise. T-shirts, baseball caps, socks, hoodies, bed sheets – even a teddy bear holding a Captain America shield.
"Oh man." Steve rolls his eyes, sighing heavily. "Sorry, Buck, he's so annoying. I can't believe..."
But to his surprise, Bucky's eyes are shining, and he's smiling for the first time in days. He lifts out one of the t-shirts – a red one with Steve's shield in the middle – and holds it up to his chest. "I love all of it."
Steve gapes. "Really?"
"Yeah." Bucky grins at him, his eyes fond, and sits back against the couch with one of the hoodies in his lap.
Steve flushes, embarrassed but pleased, and the doorbell rings again.
The man at the door is not the postman, but he is holding a box. "Hi. Delivery for James Barnes?"
"Oh yeah – thanks. He's here." Steve takes the box, which is square and white. "Hold it flat," the guy says, and heads down the steps. Steve stares after him for a moment and then brings it inside. "One more," he says, putting it carefully onto the table, and Bucky stares from the floor.
"Really? Open it."
It's a cake. A big white and blue cake with Happy Birthday Bucky written on the top in red, and there's a card on top of the whole thing, which Steve hands to Bucky.
Steve thinks Bucky's hands are shaking a little bit as he opens it, and his chest feels tight watching him.
"It's from Bruce," Bucky says after a moment, and then he just stares at the cake for a long time.
X
The cake goes in the fridge for the next day, and Bucky sits on the couch next to Steve, surrounded by his gifts, looking completely blown away.
"Why?" he asks after a bit. "Why would they do that?"
"Because they're your friends. And they care about you." Steve can't stop smiling. He mentally makes a note to text every one of them tonight and say thank you.
"Can you – would you please tell them I say thank you?" Bucky leans down and picks up the Bing Crosby record, turns it over. "Or maybe I can – text – them – if you show me how."
Steve realizes he's grinning way too big. "Sure, Buck. I'll show you how to text them, no problem."
"Thank you." Bucky leans down and picks up the Captain America teddy bear, putting it on the arm of the couch and looking at it. "I know what I want to do for my birthday."
X
The Smithsonian is cool and dark, exactly how it always is, and both Steve and Bucky wear ball caps and long-sleeved jackets. They head straight for the Captain America exhibit.
The museum is thankfully fairly empty, but Steve can feel the nervous energy rolling off Bucky as they walk in. He knows that Bucky hasn't been here since before he came back to Steve. That was months and months ago.
He'd told Steve last night – "I want to go back to the museum. With you this time. Would you come with me?"
Steve can't think of anything in the world he'd rather be doing.
The last time he was here, he'd still thought Bucky was dead. No, he'd still known Bucky was dead. Oh, how things change.
They drift through, past the pictures of Steve by himself, Bucky's eyes lingering on the picture of pre-serum Steve, and stop in front of the mural of the Howling Commandos.
Everything looks new to Steve. He still feels sad, looking at it all, but it's not the same. Looking at everything with Bucky next to him feels... different. Like he's looking at a photo album, or a yearbook. Something they shared. Rather than before, when it was just something lonely, something that he sometimes wondered if actually existed at all because he was the only one who remembered it.
But now... he looks at Bucky and Bucky is staring up at the mural, hungrily taking in all the faces. Steve glances at the Captain America mannequin, still missing its costume. There's a piece of paper taped on it, it says "We're working on it". Steve smirks.
Bucky is clearly looking at it too. "You were wearing that uniform, weren't you? On the helicarrier."
Steve nods. They haven't talked about this at all. It's a subject they've avoided, always skipping over it when it got too close for comfort, changing the course of the conversation abruptly if they needed to, all in order to not talk about it. "Yes I was."
"I remember." Bucky's eyes slide to the right, to the Sergeant James Barnes mannequin in its blue jacket, and linger there.
They go into one of the dark rooms. It's playing clips of the Howling Commandos - running into battle, standing around maps, just talking – and they sit silently and watch. Steve's seen all of the clips hundreds of times, but he watches them with new eyes now, tries to see them from Bucky's point of view.
He glances at his friend, sitting next to him on the bench, and Bucky's eyes are dark under the brim of his hat. He's watching the Bucky on the screen with an intensity that makes Steve's chest hurt.
"I don't remember that stuff," he says quietly, and Steve shrugs.
"That's okay. You will."
Bucky doesn't reply for a bit. "I don't feel like I'm ninety-seven."
Steve laughs sadly. "Neither do I. Trust me, you're not alone."
They go back out, walking through the rest of the exhibit and stopping at the Bucky Barnes section. It doesn't matter that Bucky is standing next to him, alive and well (mostly). Looking at the pictures of Bucky, reading the words in memoriam and seeing the "1917-1944" still makes his throat tighten and his eyes burn.
Bucky just looks up at his photo, his eyebrows furrowed, and then drops his gaze to the videos playing nearby.
Steve follows his gaze, blinks hard when he sees the clip of him and Bucky laughing together. It's both his favourite clip and the worst one at the same time. It always reminded him of what he had, but more of what he lost.
"He –" Bucky pauses, looks down at the floor for a second. "I – look happy there."
Steve clears his throat. "You were. We both were."
Bucky stands and watches the clip play, over and over again, and Steve just stands there next to him.
" I like that video," Bucky says after a while, and his voice has a slight quiver.
Steve blinks. "Yeah. I like it too."
They start to leave after that. They don't discuss it, they just start back through the exhibit. Bucky pauses suddenly next to the Howling Commandos mural, and Steve turns back too. Bucky is looking up at the mannequins again, and his eyes are sad.
"I think I liked that jacket," he says quietly.
Steve shifts his weight, bites his lip. "You did. You liked it a lot."
The air is cool as they leave, the sun almost gone, and they walk back to the car in silence, close enough that their shoulders brush each other every now and then.
X
He waits until Bucky's had breakfast the next morning, and is sitting on the couch - slowly, slowly tapping out a "thank you" message to Tony on Steve's cellphone - and then he goes to the guest bedroom and opens the closet. The box is buried underneath his shield and a bunch of other stuff, just in case Bucky went into this closet for any reason.
Why didn't I think to buy wrapping paper? Stupid!
He sighs, puts the box down on the bed, and looks at it for a long time. It's just a plain brown box he'd found in the recycling and re-folded, but it'll have to do.
I hope I did the right thing.
He carries it out into the living room. Bucky is still sitting on the couch, his eyebrows drawn together, staring incredulously at the phone. "Steve, I can't figure this –" He looks up and stops talking abruptly.
"One more," Steve says casually, but his chest is tight.
"Another one? From who?" Bucky looks puzzled, and he puts Steve's phone down onto the arm of the couch.
Steve clears his throat. "From me. Sorry it's late. I kind of... just got it."
Bucky's eyes lighten, and he drops his chin. "You – you didn't have to, Steve, I –"
"No, I wanted to." Steve walks over, holds out the box. "Here. I really hope you like it."
Bucky looks up at him, and his eyes are shiny. "Thank you, Steve." He takes it carefully, sets it down on the coffee table, and looks at it for a long moment. Steve hovers beside the couch awkwardly, his heart pounding as Bucky unfolds the top of the box with care.
Steve thinks suddenly that he wishes he'd wrapped it in paper, or something, and then abruptly he stops thinking about any of that, because Bucky sees what's inside and his face goes blank.
Steve bites his nail and watches, his heart sinking slightly. "Buck? I'm sorry it's not new like your other gifts, I just thought..." He trails off.
Bucky is just staring down into the box, and his face isn't changing at all. He reaches in with one hand and touches the soft blue material, and then he looks up at Steve, and there are tears in his eyes. "It's – it's mine?" His voice is trembling. "I can keep it?"
"Yeah, Buck. It's all yours." Steve blinks hard. "It doesn't belong in a museum. Not when its owner is... here."
He watches as Bucky reaches into the box and lifts out the folded up jacket, lets it fall open in front of him. He stares at it for a long time, his shining eyes roaming hungrily over the folded collar, the buttons down the front. After a bit he leans over and carefully lays it on the couch next to him, then stands abruptly.
Steve smiles, starts to speak, but then he suddenly finds himself with an armful of Bucky Barnes. Bucky is holding him so tight it's actually a bit hard to breathe, but Steve wraps his arms around Bucky and squeezes right back.
"Thank you." Bucky's voice is muffled in Steve's shoulder, and he feels his friend's chest hitch. "Thank you so much, Steve."
He's crying, Steve can feel the tears soaking through his shirt, and he has to blink hard to keep his own tears back.
"I'm so glad you like it, Buck." He squeezes him even closer, rubs a hand down his back. "I'm so glad."
Bucky makes a funny sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and presses his face into Steve's shoulder.
They stand like that for a long time, until Bucky pulls away slowly, his eyes red from crying, but shining too, in a good way.
Steve rests his hand on the side of Bucky's neck and smiles. "Are you going to try it on?"
Bucky looks down at the jacket, and his chin is still trembling.
It's as if he's looking at a ghost... I guess he kind of is.
"Yeah." Bucky strokes the collar with his metal hand, and then picks it up. It's already unbuttoned from when Steve took it off the mannequin, so Bucky just slips it on over his t-shirt (one of the new Captain America ones Tony got for him) and it settles on his shoulders as easily as the day it was bought, seventy-something years ago.
Steve rubs his jaw, feels the tears trying to make a comeback. My turn to look like I've seen a ghost.
They go to the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror, and Bucky slowly does up the buttons. "It fits perfectly," he says quietly, his voice only quivering a little, and Steve stands next to him and just stares openly at Bucky's reflection.
"Yeah it does. Still."
Bucky reaches up suddenly and pulls his hair back, and it takes Steve's breath away.
I could be in 1944, right now. I could be standing beside Bucky when he first got that jacket. But it's not true. Not really. Is it? He doesn't look exactly the same. He's changed. His eyes the most.
Bucky lets his hair fall back again, but he can't seem to stop staring at his reflection. "I love it," he says. "It's the best present of them all. Thank you, Steve. Thank you so much."
Steve smiles. He thinks of the museum staff, wondering what the hell is happening to their Captain America exhibit, imagines the Bucky mannequin with a "we're working on it" sign taped on it, too. We don't belong in a museum. We are living legends. They'll find out soon. He drapes his arm across Bucky's shoulders, grins at him in the mirror.
"Happy Birthday, Bucky."
x
A quick few notes -
The math I did on Steve's age, and him being "older than Bucky now" is because I was thinking - he was thawed out in 2012, so technically he aged a couple of years in that time, while Bucky wouldn't have. Hopefully that makes sense LOL I confused myself while writing it.
Also - I can't figure out what Bucky's blue jacket is made of. I read somewhere before that it was leather, but every picture I saw of it it REALLY doesn't look like leather, so I just kind of didn't mention what it was made of other than some soft material.
And - I don't know the exact date of Bucky's birthday - the only one I found when I searched was March 10th, and I wasn't sure if it was right, so I just didn't put a concrete date.
Final thing - if you want to read about the whole incident that Thor was apologizing for in his card, it happened in chapter 4 of my other story, "First Hint of Spring".
I hope you guys liked it!
Please leave me a review on your way out and let me know. :)