Bucky watched Steve fell onto his bed, head in hands. He'd hid in the closet, waiting for Steve to do something that will tell him what he should do. But Steve just stayed there, shoulders shaking.
Bucky cocked his head, trying to think with his limited ghost brain. He doesn't quite remember what Steve's doing is called...
Crying! That was it. He wondered why, and slowly approached Steve.
Steve didn't look up when Bucky sat down next to him where the bed dipped. Bucky was weightless, and transparent, and cloudy, but he and Steve had become friends despite that. He turned to look at Steve, and caught a blue and red eye peeking at him.
He smiled. He liked when Steve looked at him. "Steve," he mumbled, voice coming out low and high at the same time, and breathy, too, which was odd since he didn't have lungs anymore. "Steve."
Bucky wasn't real good at talking, not like this. He used to be a real ladies man, he remembers. Or was it Gabe that told him that? He wasn't real good at remembering things, either. But he was good at doing things for Steve like he used to the little girl with his same eyes and a name that started with an R.
Steve sighed roughly, and flopped backwards.
"Hiya, Buck," he said back, quiet and deep-voiced. Bucky grinned at the sound. "I'm not havin' a good day. Would you play somethin' new for me?"
Bucky sorted through the few memories he hadn't shown Steve, and played his ghost magic so the scene would be reenacted in front of them. Bucky watched intently, fading out as his focus went off being visible.
A scene of him when he was a teenager was what showed. He had a hand down his pants, and when Steve saw, he shot up, put his hands over his eyes. "Bucky!" He screeched. "Play a different memory! Please!"
Bucky wondered what was wrong with Steve, then played one of him when he was in Basic.
Bucky knew when to do his part.
On the nights Steve would say hi and then go straight into his drawing - almost always of Bucky himself, which f- flattered him to no end - Bucky knew to leave him alone. Even when James was reliving their death, Steve was left alone - death wasn't on Steve's schedule that night.
Steve knew when to leave him alone, too, Bucky thinks. When James started to show through, Steve would tell him to stop focusing on being visible and deal with James. Dealing with James meant letting James brood, and mess with Tony by sticking wet fingers in his ears.
James really liked sticking wet fingers in Tony's ears.
So they were in tuned with each other. He hadn't been like that with anyone before he died, except maybe Dum Dum.
For a ghost who couldn't feel a thing, well, it felt amazing to have someone like that after so many years alone.
Bucky watched Steve sleep most nights. Sometimes, the TV - which Steve would leave on - would entertain him, but he had a hard time focusing enough to be able to press the buttons correctly, and it was comforting to hear Steve's breaths.
Sometimes, they sped up, and Bucky - or James, for that matter - would lunge forward, focusing his hands into ones that could touch and hold and then shake Steve awake.
Sometimes, Steve reached for his inhaler. Other times, he would avoid looking at Bucky, and go to the bathroom. Bucky would offer to help Steve, but Steve would always shake his head with a demure "no, thanks," and lock him out.
Bucky could focus on being transparent, and go through the door in those moments, but Steve always said no, and Bucky always ended up waiting on the bed for his only friend to come back out.
James would play his death over and over.
He never wanted Steve to see it, not really, but Steve had anyway and...
Anyway. He watched it to know the places where he messed up. The places where, had the worst wounds been there, he would have lived. The places where Zola could have really gotten him good.
He watches and watches and watches and doesn't care to focus on anything but the scene in front of him, of a younger, alive him strapped to a table begging for death. When Bucky comes back over him, when he gets out of his James funk, he watches one more time, and then again, and then he stops. He can't help it. He's got a routine, what, with the vision of his demise being the only constant thing for seventy years.
It's maybe a problem. Maybe. But there are days where he doesn't have to watch it again after Bucky comes back. Those are the days Steve comes home smiling so bright it's like a lighthouse only up close.
Steve never brought anyone home that wasn't a friend already aware of Bucky.
Bucky sometimes thought maybe he should worry about that. Most of the time, Bucky was happy to have Steve all to himself, even if he was invisible.
Steve draws him a lot. He likes how he sometimes looks translucent and sometimes is only part of the way outlined. Steve doesn't always draw him the same, since he knows about Bucky's - what's the word? - attachment to things not being the same.
Steve also has never told any "major news outlet" about Bucky, and honestly, when Natasha had told Steve Clint was thinking about snitching, Bucky had heard the term and just drawn a blank. He'd searched his limited mind for a few days, and eventually asked Steve.
Steve had gone as white as James was and told him that CNN and Stephen Colbert were examples of it, but never actually told him what it meant, so Bucky didn't ask again.
Bucky didn't even think to try to understand why Steve eventually pulled away from him.
His mind went, Steve's moving out and I'm stuck here, and then he went full on James-the-poltergeist.
It took Steve shouting at him, "I'm in love with you, moron!" to finally get him to stop.