In honor of Steve Rogers birthday I decided to write a cute stucky oneshot
Happy Birthday Punk
Tony Stark made one fatal mistake.
He announced the budget.
"So," Tony said over breakfast, "Rogers turns... what, one hundred and... let's call it 'vintage' tomorrow."
Steve looked up from his coffee.
"I'm sitting right here."
Tony ignored him.
"And since Capsicle has literally saved the world several times, we're getting him something worthy."
Natasha narrowed her eyes.
"What do you have in mind?"
Tony spread his hands dramatically.
"No budget."
Silence.
Clint slowly lowered the cereal box.
"...No budget?"
"No budget."
Bruce looked horrified.
"Tony..."
"No. Budget."
Sam sighed.
"Oh, this is going to become a thing."
"It is absolutely becoming a thing," Natasha agreed.
By lunch it had become war.
Thor declared Steve deserved "a mountain forged from the heart of a dying star."
Tony immediately countered.
"I'll buy him a mountain."
"You cannot purchase mountains."
"I literally own satellites."
Thor looked offended.
"I shall acquire a better mountain."
Clint bought Steve a restored 1967 Harley.
Sam found an original WWII motorcycle.
Tony located one that had belonged to a museum and convinced the museum it would enjoy being elsewhere.
Bruce quietly donated to every veterans' charity in Steve's name.
Natasha somehow obtained a bottle of whiskey distilled before Steve had been frozen.
Nobody asked how.
Nobody wanted to know.
Wanda handmade an enchanted painting that subtly changed with the seasons.
Vision gave Steve a first-edition collection of every book Steve had ever mentioned wanting to read.
Peter pooled three years of internship pay to buy Steve an authentic Brooklyn Dodgers baseball signed by half the team.
Steve was going to kill them all.
By evening the competition had escalated beyond reason.
Tony unveiled a restored 1940s apartment building.
"I bought your old neighborhood."
"...You what?"
"It's technically three buildings."
"You bought Brooklyn?"
"Only the interesting part."
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You all know you don't have to"
"Absolutely not," Sam interrupted.
"We're winning."
"This isn't a competition."
Natasha smiled.
"It became one approximately seventeen hours ago."
The only person not participating was Bucky.
He watched everyone argue from the couch.
No speeches.
No dramatic declarations.
No shopping trips.
Nothing.
Steve noticed.
"Buck?"
"Hm?"
"You okay?"
Bucky smiled.
"Yeah."
Steve searched his face.
"You sure?"
"Course."
Steve accepted the answer.
Mostly.
The birthday party arrived.
The Tower had been decorated despite Steve insisting decorations weren't necessary.
Thor had hung banners.
Tony had hired musicians.
Clint had somehow arranged fireworks.
It was...a lot.
The presents began.
Steve accepted each one with genuine gratitude.
The motorcycle.
The charities.
The whiskey.
The books.
The art.
The baseball.
The apartment deed.
He thanked every single person.
He meant it every time.
Still...
Something about his smile looked increasingly overwhelmed.
Finally Natasha looked around.
"Where's Barnes?"
Everyone paused.
"...Good question."
The elevator dinged.
Bucky stepped out carrying...
Nothing impressive.
Just a tiny, worn sketchbook.
Old leather.
Scuffed corners.
Held together with thread in one place.
Tony blinked.
"That's it?"
Bucky shrugged.
"Yeah."
He walked over to Steve.
Didn't kneel.
Didn't make a speech.
Just held it out.
"Happy birthday."
Steve smiled gently.
"You didn't have to get me anything."
"I know."
Steve took the notebook.
Opened the cover.
The first page was dated.
July.
A charcoal sketch.
Steve asleep over an art table.
One arm hanging off the side.
Tiny handwriting underneath.
"Falls asleep every time he skips lunch."
Steve froze.
Next page.
Steve laughing outside the USO.
Then Steve painting.
Steve reading.
Steve dancing badly at a neighborhood party.
Steve covered in flour trying to bake.
Steve asleep on Bucky's shoulder on the subway.
Little notes beneath every drawing.
"Wouldn't stop talking about the future."
"Thought this hat made him look sophisticated."
"He's wrong."
Steve turned another page.
Training.
Camp.
Late nights.
Hospital visits after fights.
Tiny victories.
Quiet moments no one else had seen.
Then...
The war.
Drawings became fewer.
Darker.
Steve exhausted.
Steve after missions.
Steve smiling despite everything.
One page simply showed Steve and Bucky sitting together in silence.
No caption.
It didn't need one.
Then
Nothing.
Several blank pages.
Until...
A shaky pencil drawing.
Steve asleep in Avengers Tower.
Caption.
"Found him again."
Steve's breathing hitched.
More pages.
Steve arguing with Tony.
Steve laughing with Sam.
Steve helping Peter with homework.
Steve feeding stray cats.
Steve dancing in the kitchen when he thought nobody was watching.
Steve smiling.
Always smiling.
Always seen.
Always loved.
The last page wasn't a drawing.
It was a pressed forget-me-not flower.
Beside it
A final note.
"I missed seventy years.
Didn't want to miss another birthday.
Love you.
Always did.
Buck."
Silence filled the room.
Steve stared.
His hands trembled.
Then tears spilled down his face.
One after another.
Bucky's stomach dropped.
"Oh."
Steve didn't look up.
"Oh no."
Tony looked confused.
Natasha frowned.
Peter panicked.
"I knew we should've wrapped mine differently."
Bucky stepped backward.
"IâI messed it up."
Steve still hadn't spoken.
Bucky's chest tightened.
"Should've gotten you something bigger."
No answer.
"I knew everyone else had these huge presents and I thought"
His voice cracked.
"I thought maybe..."
He laughed once.
Humorless.
"Guess it was stupid."
He turned.
"I'll just"
"James."
Steve's voice was barely above a whisper.
Bucky stopped.
Didn't turn around.
"I'm sorry."
Steve laughed through tears.
"...Why are you apologizing?"
Bucky finally looked back.
Steve had closed the sketchbook carefully.
Like it was priceless.
Because it was.
Steve crossed the room.
Took Bucky's face in both hands.
"You've been carrying this..."
Bucky shrugged.
"A while."
Steve blinked.
"Since..."
"The forties."
"You kept drawing me?"
"...Yeah."
"For eighty years?"
"...Yeah."
Steve made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
"You idiot."
"...Probably."
"You beautiful idiot."
Then Steve kissed him.
Soft.
Gentle.
Like he'd wanted to forever.
The room exploded.
"I KNEW IT!" Sam shouted.
"I WON!" Clint yelled.
Natasha groaned.
"I had 'Steve confesses first.'"
Tony pulled out his phone.
"I have spreadsheets."
Steve blinked.
"...What?"
Clint was already collecting money.
"Pay up."
Thor looked scandalized.
"There was wagering?"
"There was extensive wagering."
Bruce sighed and handed Clint fifty dollars.
"I was only off by six months."
Peter looked completely betrayed.
"You guys were dating?"
Steve looked at Bucky.
Bucky looked back.
Then they both burst into laughter.
Steve wiped his eyes.
"We've...kind of been together since the forties."
Dead silence.
Tony stared.
"I'm sorry."
Steve rubbed the back of his neck.
"We never really...told anyone."
Natasha blinked.
"You've been together for eighty years?"
"Well."
Steve smiled.
"There was an unfortunate interruption."
Bucky nodded.
"Little ice-related setback."
Sam covered his face.
"So all those longing looks"
"Were real."
"The flirting?"
"Real."
"The dancing in the kitchen?"
Bucky smiled.
"Real."
Tony groaned dramatically.
"I have spent YEARS watching the two of you pine dramatically."
Steve looked confused.
"Pine?"
"You looked at each other like Victorian poetry."
Clint counted his winnings.
"I told everyone they were already together."
"You did," Natasha admitted.
"We just thought you were being Clint."
"I was right!"
"You were accidentally right."
"I'll take it."
Steve turned back to Bucky.
He held up the sketchbook.
"This..."
His voice wavered again.
"...This is every life I've ever lived."
Bucky swallowed.
"I figured...if HYDRA took my memories..."
Steve shook his head.
"They didn't."
Bucky frowned.
"What?"
"They couldn't take this."
Steve rested a hand over his heart.
"They couldn't take the part of me that loved you."
Bucky's eyes filled.
"You still have terrible timing."
Steve smiled.
"I learned from you."
He kissed him again.
Longer this time.
Thor applauded.
Peter looked politely at the ceiling.
Tony muttered, "Worth losing fifty bucks."
Natasha smiled into her drink.
"Best birthday present wins."
"No contest," Sam agreed.
Later that night, after everyone had gone home and the expensive gifts had been stacked neatly around the apartment, Steve sat on the couch with Bucky asleep against his shoulder.
The restored motorcycles.
The apartment deeds.
The priceless antiques.
The artwork.
All incredible.
All generous.
All loved.
But Steve never looked at them.
Instead, he turned another page in the tiny sketchbook.
There was one he'd somehow missed.
A rough sketch from 1940.
Two skinny boys sitting on a rooftop, sharing a sandwich.
The caption was written in faded pencil.
"Someday, I'll marry him."
Steve smiled so hard his cheeks hurt.
He picked up a pencil from the coffee table.
On the very last blank page, he drew two gold rings.
Underneath, he wrote:
"Took us long enough."
When Bucky woke a few minutes later and found the new drawing, he laughed, kissed Steve's forehead, and answered with three simple words.
"Happy birthday, punk."
And for the first time in a very long time, both of them knew there would be many more birthdays to come.