The knock on his door isn’t a surprise. Bucky huffs once, shakes his head, then sets his shoulders and opens the door.
”Hi,” Steve says, hands in his pockets, shifting from one foot to the other. ”I hope I’m not interrupting—”
”Get in, punk,” Bucky drawls. ”Wanna beer?”
”Sure.”
He gets two beers from the fridge, some fancy-ass microbrew Sam had introduced him to way back before—
Well. Before.
”Buck, there’s something I wanted to tell you,” Steve says after a moment of silence. ”About tomorrow.”
Bucky cocks his head and takes a long look at his friend. He’d lost five years of Steve’s life and those years hadn’t been good. Yeah, the serum has made sure the physical signs of grief and loss aren’t there but it doesn’t diminish the hollow look in Steve’s eyes or the defeated slope of his shoulders. His fingers pick at the etiquette absently, almost as an afterthought and his left leg bounces slightly.
”You’re not coming back,” Bucky says.
Steve looks up, surprised. ”How did you—”
”I’ve known you my whole life, Stevie,” Bucky says and gives him a stilted smile. ”I know when you’re done.”
”It’s…” Steve sighed and shook his head. ”This life, this time… I keep telling people they should move on but I can’t do it myself.” He falls silent and then says in a whisper, ”Especially now.”
”You loved him a lot,” Bucky says quietly. It’s not a question. He’s known for a good while now and besides, Steve had never been able to hide his feelings from him. He’d known about Peggy just like he’d known about Tony: by the look in Steve’s eyes.
Steve shakes his head, stares at the floor with unseeing eyes. ”I never said anything. He had Pepper and I’m not the kind of man who—”
”Never said you were,” Bucky interrupts.
Steve swallows a couple of times and then looks up, meets Bucky’s eyes. ”When I say that Peggy was the love of my life, I mean that. But…”
”You know, you can love more than one people.”
”He was my anchor in this time,” Steve continues like he doesn’t hear what Bucky says. ”He was a whirlwind, a hurricane made of bright light and stardust, and even though we argued and fought, I never thought—” his voice breaks. ”I don’t know how to do this without him. I can’t do this in a world without him.”
They sit in silence and Bucky averts his eyes, gives his friend a moment to compose himself. The quiet around them is comfortable, born in the middle of a war decades ago.
”I’m sorry,” Steve says.
”For what?”
Steve huffs and takes a pull from his beer. ”For dumping this on you. For saying that you’re—”
”But you didn’t.”
”What?”
”You didn’t say I’m not enough,” Bucky says and raises a finger when Steve opens his mouth. ”No, let me talk, punk. I get it. For me, it’s been, what, days since the snap? You two, tho? You had years. Years, Stevie.
”I know you love me. Hell, you wouldn’t have defied the whole government if you didn’t. But we’re brothers. I love you because I’ve known you your whole life. You’re like…I don’t know. A pair of well-worn socks or something. You make me feel safe and warm. But you don’t love me like you loved him.”
He sighs and downs his beer. ”Just promise me one thing: make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons, okay?”
He ducks his head a bit, waits until Steve meets his eyes. They’re red-rimmed and when Steve smiles, it’s wobbly around the edges.
”Wanna another beer?” He asks a short moment later.
”Yeah,” Steve says, his voice hoarse.
”I hope you’re not gonna give me the shield,” Bucky says when Steve is on his way out.
”Actually, I was thinking about Sam?” It comes out as a question.
Bucky nods. ”Good,” he says bluntly. ”You two have a lot in common.”
”But you’ll be there for him, right?”
Bucky gives him a flat look. ”Like I’d let him fly around with your shield without supervision?”
Steve huffs out a laugh, shakes his head. ”Yeah,” he says.
Bucky gives him a smile. ”Yeah,” he echoes.
They share a tight hug with manly slaps on the back and ignore each other’s too-bright eyes, then Steve bids him goodnight and then he’s gone.
Bucky brushes the doorframe with his metal fingers.
”Yeah. You go have your dance, Stevie.”