Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader, Steve x fem!Reader x Bucky
A/N: Thanks for reading, and extra thank you to anyone that commented and/or reblogged because it means a lot! No taglist, please follow @idkxwriting-taglist and turn on notifications to be alerted of new chapters :)
Also, I'm sorry apparently tumblr took the page breaks away!? eww.
comments, feedback, likes and reblogs give me life <3
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Steve wouldn’t have bothered coming in any other circumstances. He’s sure Bucky wanted to be there even less than he did, these things, parties, fundraisers, the crowds, they always made his friend feel like he was suffocating. But he wants to support Bucky, and if he’s going to run for Congress, if he’s going to revamp his image, he has to play the part. So Steve shows up for Bucky.
The fact that you may attend may have encouraged him a little more.
But as he moves through the ballroom, he thinks it was all a bad idea. He can’t relax, like he’s searching for you with every movement, not sure if he hopes to find you or not. He has conversations with guests, all while he stumbles over the words he wants to say to you over and over in his head.
He finally spots you from across the room, and it steals the breath from his lungs. You don’t see him, but smile softly at something someone says, and it’s like falling all over again. All the months of missing you culminating into this moment, the burden of heartbreak lifting with the corners of your mouth.
Until you shift and he sees your date place his hand on the small of your back. He says something, making you laugh. He shoves the jealousy simmering in his chest further down, smothers it with reminders of why you are no longer together.
“You doing okay?” Bucky’s voice cuts through his thoughts.
His jaw tightens as he nods. “I’m fine,” he reassures him.
Bucky follows his line of sight and pauses. “Is she here with someone?” He asks incredulously.
Steve doesn’t bother trying to explain it away. “She looks happy,” he observes instead.
“You can’t be okay with this?” Bucky asks.
“Of course I’m not okay with this,” he runs a hand across his face. “But she asked us for time.”
“Yea, to figure things out with us.”
Steve nods, biting the inside of his cheek as his own frustration bubbles up.
“She’s had six months,” Bucky reminds him.
Is that all it had been? “It feels like a lifetime,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving you.
“Then let’s go get her,” Bucky is fired up.
Steve shakes his head. “And say what?”
“Tell her this is ridiculous, to come home.”
“If she wanted one of us, she wouldn’t be here with another guy. We have to let her make her own decisions, even if it’s not us. It’s the right thing to do,” Steve repeats the words he has said to himself every single day since letting you go.
He waits for validation. For his best friend to remind him that their misery is a small price to pay. But the words never come. Bucky says nothing, the silence stretching between them.
Steve doesn’t fill the silence as he walks away. He needs to clear his head, forget the vision of you, vibrant and beautiful, with some guy. What has been the point of the last few months if you are still here, floating in their orbit, just out of reach?
He makes his way to the bar, chasing thoughts of you with shots he knows won’t be able to keep up.
Another shot and he feels no different, so he weaves his way through the party-goers, smiling politely when people whisper about seeing Captain America up close. He pretends he doesn’t hear it, pretends he doesn’t hate that they just see a symbol, and remembers how even from day one you had only ever seen him.
It stings in his chest, and it’s too warm, too crowded, too loud. He finds himself on the balcony, inhaling the icy cold air, the sharpness of it claws at the inside of his lungs, but at least it’s something.
He rests his arms on the rail, looking out at the city lights for a moment before hanging his head with a sigh.
He’s survived worse, he thinks, but then he’s not sure.
Because it didn’t feel like this before. Not when he thought he lost Bucky, or when he put the plane into the water. Not when he woke up again all those years later to find he was robbed of a lifetime, or at the Battle of New York. He has broken bones, been shot, stabbed, beaten within an inch of his life, and every time the serum worked through his blood, piecing him back together again.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget he isn’t invincible, and there are some things even a super serum can’t heal.
It’s a salve to his wounds.
He lifts his head slowly, shutting his eyes for a moment to try to recall everything about you, hopes that when he turns to find you, he realizes he’s romanticized the whole thing, built you up so high in his mind that it’s impossible for you to meet him there.
He takes a steadying breath, turns slowly, and when his eyes finally meet yours he realizes it was the memories that could never do you justice. You’re perfection before him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. You’re wearing that same soft smile from earlier and he thinks it might be the death of him.
“Hi,” he manages to whisper back.
You bite your lip nervously as you step up to the rail, choosing to get lost in city lights instead of him. He watches you closely, memorizing every line of your face. He decides if he will spend the rest of his days haunted, at least he’ll have this.
Miserable. He wants to tell you how the last few months have been excruciating. How he hasn’t been sleeping, he’s lost his appetite. He’s working himself to the bone just to avoid being alone with his thoughts because when he’s alone he forgets why he has to forget you. He leaves on missions so he doesn’t show up at your door. He wants to tell you how many times he’s thought of calling you, but stopped because he doesn’t know how to talk to you without confessing he regrets every moment without you. He wants to tell you that he hoped you’d be here just as hard as he hoped you wouldn’t show, because he doesn’t know how to do this - not with you.
“I’m good,” he says instead. “Really good.” You nod along, and he wonders if you can see through him, too. He keeps the conversation going though, not giving you a chance to dwell on the lie. “You looked like you were having fun in there.”
You let out a breathy laugh. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, but even stumbling through is still moving forward so you try. “Might as well try to enjoy it, right?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets when you shiver softly as the chill in the air whips around you both, because you aren’t his to keep warm anymore.
Another silence settles over the two of you, and you both try to break it at the same time.
He cringes at the thought that the two of you are reduced to small talk.
“Sorry,” he mutters, and dives in because if he can’t do this with you, if all that’s left is small talk and pleasantries, he’s not sure he’ll survive. “Does he make you happy?”
You quirk one eyebrow up at him. “Are we really doing this?”
He doesn’t know how to answer you.
You let out a heavy breath, and begin to shiver again, crossing your arms over your chest to try to hold in any remaining warmth.
He knows it’s not his place, but he can’t help it as he strips off his suit jacket, placing it around your shoulders, his hands lingering a little longer than they should when he presses the fabric against your arms.
“Thank you,” you pull his coat around you.
“Answer the question, doll.” Bucky finally steps outside, his eyes meet yours and you shift uncomfortably. Still, he locks his gaze, and you can’t help the heat that floods your cheeks. “You’re dating?” He asks, his tone accusatory. The anger is rolling off of him in waves.
You wonder if he misses you as much as you miss him, even only a few feet apart. You could ask, probably should. You should at least say something, because you can tell that he’s waiting.
It’s not lost on you that the two people you are closest to, the two people you love the most in the world, the ones that are taking up the majority of space on the small balcony - are the very ones you feel furthest from.
The silence is deafening.
“Are we ever going to talk about this?” Steve asks when you offer them nothing.
You clear your throat. “I just need time.” You chance a glance at Steve, but it’s not any easier. Where Bucky’s eyes are fire and impatience, Steve’s are full of heartbreak and longing. You’re not sure what’s worse. You shift uncomfortably. “Maybe it’s not the time or place…” you suggest, hoping they’ll let it drop.
Steve clears his throat, and Bucky knows he’s willing to let it go to keep the peace. He interjects. “I think this is exactly the time and place, because we’ve been patient. For months.”
Bucky ignores him, and you take a step back as he marches over towards you. “No, I’m done being patient.”
Steve moves between you, puts his hand on Bucky’s chest, his jaw set in warning.
“I love you,” he says to you over his friend’s shoulder. Steve releases him then, suddenly feeling torn between offering the two of you privacy and confessing his own feelings.
Bucky either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, continuing his outburst. “It’s been months, and I know I said to take all the time you need, and if more time is really what you need,” he sighs. “I’ll do it. I will. Because I love you, and I’d wait forever for you, if that’s what you want.”
You’re speechless, wanting to tell him you love him, too, but it doesn’t change anything because you still love the man beside him.
“But please, we can’t take the silence. Just come home to us, doll.”
“Come home?” You manage to whisper.
Steve’s eyes meet yours again and he nods solemnly.
Bucky glances back at his best friend. He considers for a moment, and takes another step toward you. “Tell us,” he says. “If you want Steve, I’ll walk away. If you want me, he’ll walk away.”
You glance at Steve, and again he nods in answer, silently telling you that whatever it is, it's okay.
Bucky rushes his next words out, afraid if he doesn't say them now he never will. “If you want us both, we’re in this.”
“There you are,” Barker steps out onto the balcony, drinks in hand. He glances between the three of you, his brows furrowing. “Am I interrupting something here?”
“Yes,” Bucky and Steve answer in unison.
“Are these guys bothering you?” He asks. If it were any other situation you’d laugh at the thought of Barker defending you against Captain America and the Winter Soldier.
“Who are you, exactly, pal?” Bucky turns a cold hard stare.
“I’m her date, who are you?”
You sigh because while yes, technically it’s a date, it had been unintentional (at least on your end) and you had planned to let him down gently.
“Her boyfriend,” Bucky answers.
Barker looks crushed when he turns his attention to you. “You have a boyfriend?”
You want to say no, to deny that’s what Bucky is to you. You want to say he’s so much more, but you can’t give Bucky a title, let him stake a claim, without demolishing Steve.
And demolishing Steve would be devastating.
“Technically two…” you manage to mutter.
“Maybe we should give you two a minute,” Steve suggests, placing his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.
Bucky shakes it off. “No, she’s had enough time. This is ridiculous, come home. Look, it’s complicated, sure, but I’ll be damned if we have to share you with what’s his name…”
“Barker,” your date supplies.
“Barker. What is that? Barker…do you want to share her with some boy named after the sound a dog makes?” He asks Steve.
Steve shakes his head, and almost feels bad for the kid, but remembers his hands on you and his sympathy dissipates.
“Then we go and hash it out…the three of us. I love you,” he confesses again, turning to you. “But if it’s Steve, if he’s what you want, I’ll step aside.”
Steve nods, because he knows he’ll do the same. Not for Barker, but for Bucky? He can live with that, even if it does tear him to pieces.
“What if I can’t decide?” You ask quietly. Because you’ve tormented yourself for six months, tried to separate yourself into pieces, box away feelings for each of them so the lines would stop blurring.
Bucky swallows nervously, because it’s a thought he’s been running with all week. “Then I’m okay with that, too,” he says quietly.
Steve’s brows furrow as the words sink into him.
“I know it’s not conventional,” he adds. “I just want you to be happy, and Steve’s the best person I know. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t even entertain the thought, but with you?” He turns to Steve and shrugs. “You love her, and I love her, and I’m okay with that.”
“Besides,” Bucky adds. “It’s not like I haven’t been sharing her with you since the beginning. I’ve always known how she’s felt about you.”
Steve lets out a humorless laugh at that. Bucky had been a constant, at the root of his relationship with you since the beginning.
Hadn’t it been the three of you this whole time?
Still, the reality of what Bucky was proposing was complicated and messy. Could he tamper his jealousy and really share you? And not only emotionally (hadn’t he always?), but physically. It meant not just openly acknowledging your feelings for his best friend, but seeing you with him. How would it feel to see Bucky’s lips on your skin, or you in his arms? What would it be like to see his hand in yours?
He let his mind drift, to imagine a world where the three of you could have it all. A world where Bucky held your hand and he waited for the jealousy and hurt to creep in. Instead, he thought of what it’d be like to be on your other side, your fingers intertwined with his own.
He thought of Barker, his hand on the small of your back in a crowded room. The jealousy and hurt settled in his gut instantly.
It wasn’t conventional, and in practice probably still complicated, but complications he could work out with the two of you, complications he found himself wanting to work out.
He blushed, confidence leaving him as his eyes met Bucky. He wasn’t sure how this would work, or even if it was a possibility. Maybe you really did prefer to start fresh, to leave them both behind. He’d give it to you though, if that’s what you wanted, because he would do anything to give you what you needed.
“Could this work?” He asked.
Bucky shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. “I just know that with the two of you I’m willing to try.”
“I’m sorry, I feel like I’m missing something here,” Barker interjects again.
You barely register his voice, laser focused on the conversation in front of you that just happened. “What are you saying?” You breathe.
“I’m saying I’m really confused here,” Barker answers.
“Read the room,” Bucky snarls over his shoulder.
You turn your attention to him, along with Steve and Bucky. “Barker, I’m sorry, I don’t think this is going to work out the way you had hoped. You’re a great guy, but I…” you glance between your two super soldiers. “My heart belongs to someone else,” you admit. You turn to Barker once more, take a step towards him and offer a sad smile. “I hope we can be friends.”
Barker looks offended, his brows pulled together as he searches the three of you for clarity. “Whatever,” he finally says, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I don’t really do complicated. I’ll see you around,” he turns and leaves.
You take a moment, watching Barker’s retreat before dropping your eyes to your own feet. You take deep breaths, trying to steady yourself, because surely you’re dreaming.
“Sweetheart,” Steve calls. You turn and find both men looking at you, waiting for an answer to a question you never dared dream.
“Is this what you want?” You ask him, because Bucky has done all the talking.
He watches you for a moment, gauging your reaction, can all but see your heart pounding because everything you’ve ever wanted is right there, just out of your reach. He sees the hope in your eyes and there it is. His answer. Because all he wants, all he’s ever wanted, is for you to be happy. “I want you,” he says. “And the reality of our situation is it’s always been the three of us.”
You want to cry, because you feel so damn selfish. “You deserve more,” you admit. “You both do."
Bucky shakes his head. “What more could we want?” He asks.
“All of me,” you cry. “You want all of me, and I can’t give it to either of you.”
Bucky takes a step forward and his hand caresses your face, wiping the tear rolling down your cheek. “This is all of you,” he says. “Steve is a part of you, just like I am. And it’s more than enough for me.”
You clear your throat, eyes finding Steve, and your cheeks flush. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you want this,” Steve begs. “Choose us.”
You nod, emotions overwhelming you. The tears won’t stop now, and Steve moves because damn, he’s missed you.
They hug you tightly, both breathing in relief, lips pressing into your hair. It feels natural, having both of them wrapped around you.
You feel like after all this time you’re finally home.