Recently | Steve (and Tony)'s Apartment | Work-Safe
The engagement hadn’t really surprised anyone, especially Bucky. He had known it was coming for a while, but it was good to see Steve happy and settled down. Truth was, this life suited him, and he had more than earned it after everything that came before San Francisco and the Station. Being asked to be the Best Man was just icing on the cake (even if the truth was, he’d have never let Steve hear the end of it had it been anyone else).
But then came the planning part, which meant beers and talking. Bucky had some ideas for Steve’s bachelor party, but he had a feeling the slightly more reserved Rogers might not like some of them. That was too bad.
With a 24 pack in hand (because let’s face it, neither of them would really feel it if they even did finish it off), Bucky knocked on the door of his best friend’s apartment and waited, giving Steve a small nod and a grin before pulling him in for a hug and then stepping back.
“Hey. Long time, no see, as the kids say. Is that still a saying?”
"Well, you just said it, so it's still gotta be." Steve smiled so wide his cheeks kind of hurt. Didn't stop him, though. He loved having Bucky around, but maybe just the idea of his best friend's presence had left him complacent. It felt a little like he was taking this miracle for granted, which got Steve all twisted up inside.
He ushered him inside, took the beer from him with a shared ease, and started toward the kitchen to put the pack in the fridge. "Four to start?"
“Four’s good,” Bucky had stepped into the apartment and glanced around before heading straight for the couch. It was easy enough with Steve- always had been. No matter where they were, the guy was his brother.
As Steve settled things with the beer, he took the cans offered and cracked the first one after putting the extra on the table. “So….how’re you doing? Tony hasn’t kicked you out yet, so I’m guessing that wedding planning’s been going alright?”
"Eh, you know me. As much of a planner as I can be, I'd be just as happy to show up at a chapel somewhere and have the local so-and-so marry us. This is a first for both Tony and me, though, so it can't be all me." Steve had already sat, beer in hand, and he didn't hesitate to lean his shoulder into Bucky's, all ease and comfort. "But I'm good, really. Happy to get to do this at all, y'know? What about you? What're you doing with yourself during the summer break?"
Bucky could see that nowadays. Then again, he also had always pictured more traditional lives back in the day- for both of them. That included a lot of tradition. Not that those traditions really mattered anymore. No family- at least, not blood-related were here to witness such things. Their lives up until the Station had been pretty chaotic (save for Wakanda, but that now seemed a distant, fond memory for Bucky).
“I don’t think anyone is going to let you guys go that small,” Barnes smirked. “I mean, the marriage of Rogers and Stark is going to be the event of the season, like it or not.” He nudged his best friend gently with his elbow.
“Eh, it’s been slow. Thinking about dragging the girls somewhere.” He didn’t mention his other plan to set something up soon for a certain birthday or two. Except to warn him. “Speaking of which, you got plans for your other big day?”
"Different Stark." Steve waved a hand, smirking faintly. It deepened into something rueful, because his next words held a wealth of meaning. "Different Rogers. All the fanfare I want is whatever invite we wind up throwing up on the network."
He glanced over, interest sparking, a brow slowly raising. "Enid and Wednesday? Or Enid, Wednesday, and a certain former Widow we know? That a road you looking to go down again, Buck? No judgment, obviously, either way. You know I'll be here regardless." Steve took a deeper drink. "My birthday? Nah. Probably just hanging on to whatever our neighbors do to celebrate, like last year. It's a big one for America, too. Chavez. Her Quinceñera, right? I don't wanna do anything that might overshadow that, y'know?"
Bucky understood Steve’s meaning entirely, the mood shifting for a second as he nodded in understanding. Keeping their heads low. No fanfare, no press, it was nice to just live in normality. Hell, Bucky relished in this life (save for the random misadventures that happened from time to time). And the occasional disappearances of those they loved.
“Small. Got it,” he said as he took a drink of beer. That next question gave him pause before he answered with a half-smile. “Enid and Wednesday. We talking Yelena or Nat? Because Yelena keeps dragging my ass out.” Not that he really hated it. It was nice being useful, and nicer still that she could give him a reason to punch a douchebag in the face without feeling guilty when someone inevitably said or did the wrong thing to the woman. Bucky knew Yelena could take care of herself, of course, but he also knew their relationship mirrored what he’d once had with his sisters, and it was kind of nice getting to feel like he was protecting her in some way.
Or, at least there to help hide the bodies.
The other one? Well, that was more complicated. “Natasha? Nat and I are…uh, I don’t know. Definitely not together.” He’d never really talked to her about it, and since had just kept a somewhat hands-off relationship with her. Sure, they had dinner, and he offered to help at the school, but she also had Yelena and her own life to rebuild.
“Strange is throwing her a separate party over the weekend, so I don’t think you gotta worry about overshadowing her this year. Besides, how old are you? 200? 300?”
There was a lot going on in Bucky's head. He could see it, maybe not in his best pal's face, but definitely his eyes. The change between the man he'd encountered in DC and the one sitting next to him was as night and day as things could get. Sure, they both got wrapped up in their past sometimes—Bucky more than him, that's for sure—but that was just their lot in this crazy, mixed-up lives they'd been handed. He chuckled and took another drink, enough to drain the first can. "Gotta say, sounds like you've somehow managed to surround yourself with a bunch of instigators. It's like you attract them or something. Least you got a consistent history."
He winked, then leaned over to grab another beer. Guilt at bringing up Natasha, even teasingly, dropped hot through his insides. Steve passed the cool can from hand to hand and looked at Bucky for a long time. "Can't be easy. Having her keep going away and coming back like that." He didn't know what he would do if something like that had happened to the Tony he knew. Even in the midst of planning his wedding, he couldn't stand to even entertain the idea. "Kinda sorry I brought it up now, but if you ever wanna talk more about it, we can. I know how much it hurt, the first time."
Arching a brow sharply at Bucky, Steve elbowed him lightly. "Makin' old jokes? Last I knew, you were still older'n me. Know what I miss? When your ma would invite me and my ma over for your birthday dinner. She was always so kind and good to us. Guess I'm lucky part o' her rubbed off on you, Buck. Occasionally. Punk."
“Yeah. I wonder how that happened,” he looked right at Steve, both of them knowing that Rogers was the prototype. He didn’t seem to mind, though. It kept life interesting, and he kind of just followed where they led. Truth was, he wasn’t sure he could handle things if they were boring for too long. “None of ‘em are half as exhausting as you were, pipsqueak. I swear you’d have kept running from one fight to another until they broke both your legs and your arms if I weren't there to pull you away back then.”
He accepted the beer gratefully, his own now empty and crushing it easily with his left hand before tossing it into the trash can across the room. He was quiet throughout, sitting back and cracking the next can open as he thought about how to answer Steve about that one, then he just let out a breath and shook his head. “Figured I’m just happy for the moments we had? I realized that the both of us would have never had that chance anywhere else, and it was nice while it lasted.” There was still sadness in his voice. He sipped his beer. “Anyway, if it happens again, great…but, if it doesn’t, as long as she’s happy.”
There it was. Steve was pulling them back and Bucky chuckled and elbowed the guy. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’ll never know how lucky you are to know me, Stevie.” He was teasing, thinking back to those memories. “Oh, do you remember your 16th birthday? When we were gonna head over to the movies and instead we almost ended up thrown in the clink? Man, your mom was so mad at me. Swore she would never trust me with you again after that.”
"Guilty." If anyone could call Steve out on his childhood/teenaged antics, it was Bucky. Granted, it was only Bucky, but still. He bumped his knee into Bucky's and got lost in his memories of times long past. Just for a moment, though. "I was happy I had you in my corner, even if I was utterly exhausting."
Steve let out a soft hum, but there wasn't much else to say on the unlikely-to-Steve of the relationship between Natasha Romanoff and his best buddy for all time. Their bond came from years Steve had no way or means to remember. That the two of them—Bucky and Natasha—could have made something nice, something good from so much harsh and bad was frankly a testament to the two of them. He grabbed another beer for himself and clinked their cans together. "Here's to the hope of a happier life than the one we came from."
He laughed, big as anything, and looked down at his empty hand, flexing his fingers. "I had to do all the cleaning and washing for a month after that. Even for Mrs. Adamski down the way. My hands were so raw I could barely hold fork for weeks. Totally worth it, though. Those jamokes had no business hassling those ladies and the five-and-dime." It had been five against two. Bucky took on more of them of course. Got a date for the next Saturday night. Steve walked away with a bloody nose and bruised ribs. He grinned at Bucky now. "Wouldn't change a damned thing. Hey, Buck? You know I wouldn't want to do any of this without you, right? I got a lot of regrets about the direction life took, but finding you again ain't one of 'em."
“I wouldn’t have had it any other way, to tell you the truth,” he laughed and nudged his best friend with his shoulder. “Seriously, Pal. Those days are some of my favorite memories.”
The toast was something he did without thinking, raising his can in approval. “I’ll drink to that,” Bucky mumbled as he took a long drink, his mind lingering on those happier memories for a little longer, and hoping that they really had faced the worst of it. At least this place was better than some of the other alternatives, right? He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t contracted for the government. Steve was here. Lots of wins.
“Yeah? Me neither.” He stopped then flexed his left hand and shrugged. “Well, maybe I’d change one thing,” Bucky smirked and looked to Steve next to him before his voice became more serious. “Like I’d let you do this without me there, Rogers. To the end of the line, right?” Whatever that met now. “I just hope Tony doesn’t feel too bad when he realizes he’ll never be rid of me now.”
On most of the levels that really counted, Steve knew what his best buddy meant, but the guilt would always be there. That he hadn't done enough. That he hadn't dove after Bucky when he fell. His regrets were multitudinous, but he didn't voice any now. Bucky would have kicked his heinie if he was any kind of mindreader. "To the end of the line, Buck. Now and always." He smiled and knocked their cans together one more time, then laughed, low and warm. "Pretty sure he knows we're a package deal at this point. Now, you ain't planning some big bachelor to-do, are ya? 'Cause I gotta say, my days of dancin' gals are long over."
Bucky smiled when Steve mentioned being a package, knowing how true that felt for them. Through thick and thin, and across time. Not like they couldn’t live without each other- Bucky knew that well enough. He remembered Steve leaving, giving the shield to Sam, and all that- but he also got why. Steve had a life to live. Here? Well, they could have the best of both worlds.
“Nah, nothin’ like that,” he paused to take a drink. “I was thinkin dancin’ guys. I even know just the spot.”
Steve sat forward and cradled his forehead in his free hand, letting out a truly knowing and long-suffering, "Oh, God."