Stucky Week 2025 is coming to you 3 November - 9 November
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A/N: By, I wouldn’t say popular demand, but at least by polite request of several people, here’s a little sequel to At Your Service! Written for @stucky-week day 1, for the prompt Meet Cute/Meet Ugly.
Word count: 2.8k, Teen and Up
Unbeta’d and written in a single evening after work, so if it doesn’t make any sense, that’s why.
***************
Even as he’s walking back into the club, his left arm linked with Steve’s right, Bucky still isn’t one hundred percent certain he isn’t dreaming.
To be honest, given Bucky’s usual luck, the idea of him lying in a dirty alleyway somewhere, spaced out of his mind because someone spiked his drink while he hallucinates that the hottest man on the planet (not to mention the national icon Bucky has been idly fantasizing about for the best part of his life) just offered to be his pretend boyfriend for the night seems a lot more likely than the latter actually happening.
There isn’t really a line outside the club anymore at this time of night, so they fortunately don’t have to deal with people staring and whispering and filming viral TikToks. The bouncer does raise his eyebrows infinitesimally, which is more emotion than Bucky’s ever seen on his stoic face since he started frequenting this club a couple of years ago, but that’s about it. It’s clear he recognizes Steve though, because he doesn’t ask for ID, just lifts the barrier and waves them through.
“Thank you,” Steve nods politely. “Have a good night.”
Bucky giggles at the absurdity of it all.
He’s still a little tipsy, but mostly he just feels high on the fact that he’s hanging off Captain America’s arm, like he’s the guy’s boy toy or something. Bucky knows that’s not what this is, of course. He’s well aware that Steve is just a thoroughly good guy who feels compelled to help out some poor loser kid in distress. Sure, he asked Bucky out to dinner, but as much as Bucky would like to believe he meant it as a date, he’s pretty sure the good Captain is as straight as one of Hawkeye’s arrows. Steve probably just wants to check up on him in a few days, make sure Bucky’s okay, because that’s the kind of chivalrous shit Captain America does.
Excusing himself to the bathroom for a minute, Bucky quickly washes his face and mouth and bums a breath mint off someone. When he comes out again, it takes him a moment to spot Steve, who’s waiting for him in a dark corner. Steve’s clearly trying to go as unnoticed as possible; not an easy feat for a guy who looks like he does, but Bucky has to admit he does a decent job of it.
“So,” Steve says, walking up to Bucky’s and raising his voice a little to be heard over the loud dance music. “Which one’s Dave?”
Bucky peers around, scanning the crowd to find a familiar and much-loathed face. There. “In the back, near the bar,” he tells Steve, pointing.
The look on Steve’s face turns focused, determined, as he zooms in on the small group of people dancing and chatting just off the side of the bar. “Okay. What’s our strategy?”
Bucky blinks, a little dazed at the air of authority and control Steve is suddenly radiating. “Strategy?”
“Yeah, how do you want to play this?” Steve asks, looking back at Bucky. “Do we bump into him by accident” – he uses air quotes around the word ‘accident’ – “while we’re dancing and having a good time, or do you just want to go up to him and introduce me as your boyfriend?”
Bucky’s brain shorts out for a second or two while he imagines what ‘dancing and having a good time’ with Steve might entail. As enticing as it sounds, Bucky isn’t sure if he trusts himself to convincingly pull off surprise when Dave spots them. Bucky is much better at direct (and petty), and Dave knows it.
“Let’s just go up to him,” Bucky decides. “Dave’s an asshole, but he’s smart enough to realize that if I were actually dating you, I’d want to rub it in his face.”
“Alright,” Steve chuckles. “A direct approach, I like it.”
Bucky nods, steeling himself. He takes a few steps towards the bar, but Steve stops him before he can get very far. “Bucky- wait.”
“What is it?”
“Let’s talk boundaries for a second.”
“Right,” Bucky nods, frowning. “What, um. What boundaries?”
“Well,” Steve says, planting his hands on his slim hips and straightening his spine, “if we want to make this convincing, we're gonna have to, you know…” He sucks in a breath and holds it. “I’m gonna have to touch you. But I really don’t want to do anything you’re not okay with, so please tell me if there’s something that makes you uncomfortable, alright?”
For the second time in as many minutes, Bucky’s brain whites out, which is probably why the next thing that comes out of his mouth is, “You can do anything you want to me, Steve. And I mean, literally anything.”
It’s hard to be sure in the dim light of the bar, but for a second, Bucky could swear Steve’s sky blue eyes darken a fraction.
“Right,” Steve says, his voice a little strained. “So, uh. Okay, how about, if I do anything you’re not comfortable with, you ask me to go get you a drink?”
Bucky swallows. “Like a… like a safe word?”
“Yeah, exactly like a safe word,” Steve confirms, sounding relieved.
“Jesus Christ,” Bucky mutters under his breath. “Fine, but if you knew about some of the stuff I’m into, you’d know it’s extremely unlikely that I’ll be using it.”
Steve seems to choke on thin air. “Alright then,” he gets out once he’s stopped coughing, running a hand through his golden hair. “Let’s, uh, go.”
Despite the fact that Bucky can’t fucking wait to see the look on Dave’s face when he sees who Bucky’s with, he’s still a little nervous. He knows he’s not a bad looking guy by any means, but Dave apparently thought he was better than Bucky, so what if he doesn’t believe Bucky bagged a boyfriend like Steve? What if he sees through their charade and tells their entire friend group that Bucky is a pathetic piece of shit who enlisted the help of a bona fide World War Two veteran to pretend to be his boyfriend just so he could make his ex jealous?
“Oh god,” Bucky whispers, feeling like he’s about to throw up again.
“Hey,” Steve says gently, reaching out to take Bucky’s right hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, threading their fingers together. “It’ll be fine, I promise. If you want, you can just follow my lead?”
“Okay,” Bucky breathes, relieved, squeezing Steve’s hand back and giving him a grateful smile. When Steve returns his smile, Bucky’s knees feel awfully weak all of a sudden. Oh boy.
The further they move away from the dancefloor, the quieter the music gets, allowing for some semblance of conversation. Dave has his back to them as they approach, so Bucky takes a bracing breath before tapping him lightly on the shoulder to get his attention.
Dave turns around. “Oh hey,” he says once he sees who it is, smirking at Bucky. “Still here?”
Bucky grits his teeth against the impulse to slap that infuriatingly smug look right off Dave’s dumb mug. “Yep,” he replies cheerfully. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
It’s then that Dave seems to realize Bucky isn’t alone. Bucky watches carefully as Dave’s eyebrows draw together in a frown, his gaze traveling from Bucky and Steve’s joined hands up the length of their bodies, before finally landing on Steve’s face.
There is a brief moment of complete, blank incomprehension, before a series of complicated emotions flits over Dave’s face, including but not limited to awe and incredulity, but most of all, shock.
It’s incredibly satisfying.
“Hi,” Steve says pleasantly, holding out his free hand. “You must be Dan. I’m Steve, Bucky’s boyfriend.”
Dave just stares at Steve like he’s swallowed his tongue, so after a long, awkward moment Steve drops his hand again. “O-kay,” Steve says, letting go of Bucky’s hand only so he can put his arm his shoulders instead. “I have to admit Bucky hasn’t told me much about you, just a few… little things here and there,” he remarks, with a pointed glance down Dave’s body, “ – but it’s always great to meet some of Bucky’s friends.”
Bucky is vibrating with the effort of keeping a straight face. He could honestly kiss Steve right now, but then he’s kind of wanted to do that since he was about thirteen years old, so that’s nothing new.
“You’re shitting me, right?” Dave finally chokes out, huffing a slightly hysterical laugh as he looks back and forth between Bucky and Steve. “This is- I mean this has gotta be some elaborate prank or something, right?” Some of Dave’s friends, including his new boyfriend – with his dumb non-prescription glasses, pretentious douchebag – awkwardly laugh along with him.
“I’m sorry?” Steve says, tilting his head.
“You got something to say, Dave?” Bucky challenges, snuggling up a little closer to Steve’s side while he feels Steve’s arm tightening possessively around his shoulder.
Dave’s right eye twitches. “No way. There’s no fucking way you’re dating Captain America, Bucky. Fuck right off. He’s not even gay!”
“He’s not,” Steve agrees calmly. “He’s bisexual.”
Bucky glances up at Steve, trying hard not to let his surprise show on his face. Steve is bisexual? He could just be saying that to keep up their ruse of course, but somehow, Bucky feels like he’s being genuine about this part. Huh.
“Bucky and I have been so happy together since we met,” Steve says, looking back at Bucky with the sweetest, sappiest smile imaginable. “He’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Uh,” Bucky breathes, feeling a little as if his soul is trying to leave his body. It takes every single last scrap of willpower to tear his eyes away from Steve’s and turn back to Dave. He clears his throat, trying to gather his thoughts. “Yeah, I suppose I oughta thank you, actually. If you hadn’t broken up with me when you did, I’d have never gotten together with my Stevie.”
Bucky relishes the constipated look on Dave’s face for a glorious, vindictive second - until he looks back up at the man next to him, and finds that the expression on Steve’s face is actually a thousand times more compelling.
Right now, Steve looks like he either wants to drop to one knee and propose to Bucky on the spot, or like he’s about to throw Bucky over his shoulder take him back to his bed and ravish him. Bucky gulps. Alright, so Steve’s a better actor than he had anticipated. This might be a problem.
While Bucky is still trying not to drown in Steve’s eyes, Steve lifts a hand to Bucky’s face to tenderly cup his jaw in a giant palm, and Bucky sucks in a breath because surely Steve won’t… he’s not going to actually–
Steve ducks his head and presses his lips to Bucky’s.
It takes a good three seconds of Bucky freezing up in shock, before his mind reboots enough for him to get with the program and kiss Steve back.
And the thing is, a brief kiss would probably suffice to make this look believable.
Captain America isn’t exactly known for free love and being spotted kissing random guys in clubs every Friday night, so the fact that he’s here with Bucky, holding his hand and giving him a chaste kiss on the mouth would probably be enough to convince Dave that this is legit (even though it’s not).
But since Steve doesn’t make a move to pull back and break the kiss, neither does Bucky. Instead, Bucky’s body moves on autopilot as he brings his arms up and winds them around Steve’s neck, standing on his tiptoes to bridge the inch or so of height difference between them. Steve responds by hooking his free arm around Bucky’s waist, drawing him closer and pulling their bodies flush together.
And then, to Bucky’s great surprise and utter delight, he feels Steve lick at the seam of his lips, requesting entrance. Bucky lets out a pleased moan, parting his lips to let Steve deepen the kiss, their tongues touching hot and wet and better than anything Bucky could’ve ever dreamed up. When Steve all but growls into his mouth, Bucky is hit with a wave of desire so strong his knees actually give out this time.
Pressed up as he is against Steve, with Steve’s strong arms wrapped around his waist to keep him upright, it doesn’t matter. Bucky’s mind whirls like a spinning-top as Steve kisses him like he means it, licking into his mouth and sucking lewdly on his bottom lip, and Bucky is suddenly horribly certain that he’s actually lying outside in that alley, moments away from leaving behind his mortal coil altogether. How else could this be happening to him?
But then, the hand that was cupping Bucky’s jaw trails along the column of Bucky’s neck, stroking down his back until – whoa. Steve’s hand is on his ass. Okay.
When Steve proceeds to give said ass a firm squeeze, Bucky squeaks in shock, and that’s what chinches it for him. If this were a fantasy, he would’ve never let out a sound that embarrassing in public, so Bucky guesses this has to be reality after all.
Holy fuck.
Bucky moans into Steve’s mouth, his entire body arching into Steve’s solid bulk, feeling the heat radiating off of him like he’s a goddamn incinerator, intent on burning Bucky to ashes. Since Bucky’s about to spontaneously combust anyway, he may well succeed.
They kiss and kiss and kiss some more, until finally, after what feels like an eternity, Steve starts to pull away. Bucky whines sadly, but Steve doesn’t go far, only pulling back far enough to catch Bucky’s eyes. Steve’s pupils are blown, drowning out the gentle blue of his irises, and Bucky knows his own are probably not much better. Leaning in again, like he just can’t resist, Steve presses a series of short, sweet kisses to Bucky’s parted lips before finally pulling away completely.
By this point, Bucky has forgotten what planet he’s on. Fuck, he’s forgotten his own name. He’s certainly forgotten all about fucking Dave, who seems infinitely insignificant in the face of Steve’s everything.
Steve licks his lips, taking a deep but subtle breath before turning back to their audience. “Anyway,” Bucky hears Steve say. “We won’t keep you any longer. It was nice meeting you, Drew, enjoy your evening.”
When they start to walk away, Bucky has to focus very hard on putting one foot in front of the other – although he has no doubt that Steve, whose arm is snuggly wrapped around Bucky’s waist, would catch him if he tripped. When he chances a glance back over his shoulder, Bucky finds Dave staring after them, slack-jawed with shock while his friends shoot him pitying looks and whisper behind his back.
It’s better than anything Bucky could’ve hoped for, but strangely, he finds that he almost doesn’t really care anymore.
Much to Bucky’s disappointment, Steve lets go of him as soon as they’ve turned a corner, taking a step back to put a bit of space between them.
“Was that okay?” Steve asks, frowning as he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m, uh. I’m real sorry if it was too much. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, Bucky. I guess I got a little… carried away.”
Bucky snorts incredulously. “Pal, you have my full and enthusiastic permission to get as carried away as on me as you like. Seriously, anytime.”
The look Steve gives him through his insanely long eyelashes, like he’s sizing him up, makes Bucky’s stomach flip with excitement.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Steve says finally, not looking away. “For our dinner date.”
Dinner date.
“O-okay.” Bucky swallows, leaning back into the wall for support when Steve steps forward, getting up in Bucky’s personal space. “Yeah, that- that works for me.”
“If I give you my number, maybe you could check your diary tomorrow and let me know when you’re free?” Steve suggests.
“I’m always free,” Bucky blurts out, because fuck it, his dignity was out the window before he even spoke his first words to Steve tonight anyway. “Free as a bird. I’ve never had any plans, ever. I’m free right now, actually.”
Steve laughs silently, his eyes crinkling in the corners. He’s fucking beautiful. Ethereal, yet more solid and real than anything Bucky’s ever seen in his entire sorry life.
Bucky wants him so bad.
“How about,” Steve starts, pressing closer still, “I drive you home in a minute and kiss you goodnight at your door, and then tomorrow, I’ll give you a call first thing and we can see about that date, hm?”
“Fine,” Bucky pouts. “But you should know that I insist on putting out on the first date.”
That, at least, gives him the satisfaction of seeing Steve’s composure slip; a flash of hunger darkening those pretty blue eyes. Which is. Promising.
“Well,” Steve says lowly, leaning in, “if you insist.”
“I do,” Bucky sighs, and graciously lets Steve kiss him some more.
After Bucky is free from Hydra he and Steve realise Bucky doesn't have all his memories of the love they shared. That doesn't matter. They fall in love all over again and create new memories together.
A lost, unshot scene where we find Bucky Barnes (The Winter Soldier) getting a glimpse of his past during a mission in 1962.
1. THE LOST SCRIPT
2. THE LOST STORYBOARD
3. THE LOST (ALREADY MADE) PROPS & CONCEPT SHOTS
4. OPENING THE SUITCASE: FROM SCRIPT TO CONCEPT ART
5. THE SCRIPT (full text) + My ramble
A festive and sunny day of 1962. Lots of people in a typical Sunday flea market in the city.
We see the WINTER SOLDIER in disguise watching a couple who is looking at old lamps across from him. The man is his new mission, so he is alert but laying low and mingling as he awaits the final order.
The couple takes a sudden turn and starts crossing the street and facing his way, so the WINTER SOLDIER turns toward the closest market stand hiding his face away from them.
The couple takes a sudden turn and starts crossing the street and facing his way, so the WINTER SOLDIER turns toward the closest market stand hiding his face away from them.
The couple takes a sudden turn and starts crossing the street and facing his way, so the WINTER SOLDIER turns toward the closest market stand hiding his face away from them.
This market stand is one of those places where they sell old pictures by the lot: full of faded photos, postcards with wet burry ink, and faces forgotten by time. But something there catches the WINTER SOLDIER‘s attention.
It’s an old suitcase. Brown stripes consumed by time framing a tag that says “SGR” in what were once shiny golden letters.
The WINTER SOLDIER is confused. Mission uncharacteristically going to the back of his mind, focus shifted to a distant recognition of something unknown.
PICTURES’STAND OWNER
(interrupting his thoughts)
They don’t do them like that anymore, uh? I believe it’s from the ’20s. A little worn on the edges but still good to go.
The WINTER SOLDIER looks at the man, confusion over his face.
PICTURES’STAND OWNER
You can open that if you want; but carefully, please, I think there’s stuff inside.
The WINTER SOLDIER says nothing but can feel himself nodding and reaching for the suitcase as if the actions were being performed by somebody else, while the PICTURES’STAND OWNER goes after another potential client.
He opens the suitcase and sees the inside: it’s filled with boxes, postcards, and pictures. An enclosed version of the stand it was lying on.
He scans the content and the feeling of recognition on those pictures lies heavily on his chest, distressing him.
He is distressed but also drawn to the handwriting on the envelopes and the faces of the young boys on the pictures that are all over the suitcase looking at him from below.
The WINTER SOLDIER is freezing. He doesn’t know who that people are, and yet...
He takes one picture in his hands: a dark haired boy (features very much like his) posing broodily somewhere that looks like an amusement park.
Something alien and unrecognizable keeps happening to the WINTER SOLDIER: He’s feeling his heart in his throat and the start of a cold sweat breaking in while a weird smell of burnt bacon and a distant voice whispering “Buck, you handsome jerk” keep sinking him more and more away from his surroundings; the need to have this picture for himself, to steal the whole suitcase full of smiling faces and run somewhere far away taking hold of him.
PICTURES’STAND OWNER
Are you ok, sir? You are a little white there. Want to take any of that… I believe it’s a bargain and…
The voice breaks the WINTER SOLDIER out of his state of mind.
Mind clearer, he knows the Winter Soldier doesn’t own things, the Winter Soldier doesn’t even own himself. The Winter Soldier doesn’t decide where to run.
What the Winter Soldier does is to follow orders, so he quickly scans the market in seach of his mission: The couple are further away that he would have liked but still easy to follow.
The WINTER SOLDIER takes one final look at the picture still in his gloved hand, recognition lost but confusion still in the back of his mind.
He leaves the picture on the suitcase and follows the couple.
My ramble and the happy ending I might explore: This has been on my "To Do" for a long time now and I don't think it's ever going to turn out the way I expected... so here it is. Decaffeinated but done. My heart suffers for poor Bucky but this scene would not leave me alone.
I'm obsessed with fanfics/art exploring what might have happened with Steve and Bucky's personal things while they were "un-alive".
My end for this particular piece is something along the lines of Becca finding it it in another Flea not long after this, and although she was shocked with some of the pictures/writings inside, she kept it because she loved the boys. Fast forward to Steve and Bucky being in the 21st century happy and together forever... and the suitcase somehow makes its way to them. I don't have the details figured out, and I want to explore all that, but in case I can't... YOU HAVE TO KNOW THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING.
Also I will put all the manips on a separate post at some point, but right now I cannot stand the thought of facing my million unnamed photoshop layers trying to extract them 🤣
(I've been wanting to write this for weeks, and what better time than for @stucky-week)
It was a raining day in Wakanda.
Bucky disliked days like these. Even in Wakanda, the soggy breeze felt cold when it rained, and it chewed at his bones and made his left shoulder and chest ache.
The Wakandans had revised the implant and fitted a new arm, and Shuri was sorely disappointed when Bucky chose to forgo it for most days. She pestered him for an explanation until T’Challa clucked disapprovingly.
But Bucky didn’t really mind today, even though the gusts of wind swept rain through the open entrance. Steve was on his way.
“You’re wearing your arm,” Steve remarked as he stepped through the door.
He was soaked from head to boots, but that didn’t dampen his smile as he wiped a sleeve across his face and pushed the blonde hair out of his eyes.
Bucky opened his mouth to ask what that pointed comment meant but caught sight of the dark blood almost hidden by the grime. “What did you—”
Steve stepped back out of his reach, his smile not wavering, “Just a graze. I had a run in with some old friends in Italy.”
Bucky stared at Steve, a half frown on his face. These days memories still came to him in disjointed pieces, and sometimes he could spend days trying to work out where a fragment of memory had fit in. Sometimes the memory didn't come but the emotions did, and as he watched Steve’s unfaltering, reassuring smile, he felt a stab of anguish.
It wasn’t right. He was always the one who protected Steve – he couldn’t even remember all the instances, but he knew that was what he had always done. He was not used to this; not used to this man shielding him, hiding his own struggles and worries behind this cheerful smile.
Under his stare, Steve’s smile turned sheepish, “Would you mind if I borrow some clothes? Mine are all soaked.”
Bucky blinked and tried to summon up memories from 80 years ago. He smiled, trying to emulate those light-hearted pre-war days, “When have you ever bothered to ask?” He pointed at the closet, “Try the drawers.”
Steve tiptoed over to the closet, trying not to leave puddles where he stepped but failing. As he headed to the bathroom, he saw Bucky walk back with a mop and grimaced, “Sorry Buck.”
Steve’s bag was by the door along with the shield, and Steve was not exaggerating when he said it was soaked through and through.
Bucky pulled out all the wet clothes and paused as it brought around a twinge of déjà vu. He sat still, as though afraid that sudden movement would frighten the memory away, but it never arrived. Slowly, Bucky resumed his movements and let out a small sigh of defeat.
A plastic bag fell out as he shook the wet clothes. It was a small artbook, the only part of the luggage that was carefully wrapped in plastic.
Those memories did come easily. Bucky smiled as he remembered the skinny asthmatic boy who, because of his illnesses, spent too much time simply being an observer and turned it into a hobby.
Bucky dropped all the wet clothes in the laundry, and when Steve still had not come out of the shower, sat back down with the artbook.
Steve had such an eye for detail and perspective, but also a flair for expression. The world he committed to paper was grand or dreamy or faintly ironic, but Bucky remembered it always made him smile.
The first page was a spread of Times Square. Bucky stared at it for a while, trying to line up his broken memories. He had seen Times Square several times throughout the decades, but he could not remember which memory matched with what time period.
The next pages were all street scenes of New York. Most of them were unrecognisable. Some seemed vaguely familiar but Bucky couldn’t put his finger on why. There was a picture of Brooklyn Bridge, the bridge itself unchanged but the skyline had been refreshed.
Then the sceneries took on a change. Steve had started travelling outside of New York, and the pictures followed his journey. Sometimes they would be famous sites, sometimes just a corner of a foreign street or a glimpse of a quaint garden.
Bucky slowed down as the pictures became familiar again. The Smithsonian, the Capitol, the National Art Gallery…Bucky remembered that work on the gallery had started just before the war, and Steve would not shut up about wanting to go.
He turned the page and stopped. The man in the picture glared back, brows locked over icy cold eyes and lips pressed into a tense line.
It was the most meticulously detailed picture in the book so far, down to every stubble and every fine crease on the lips, and it was a picture of him.
Bucky sat unmoving for so long that when he reached out to turn the page, he felt his fingers creak.
The next page was a montage of the Winter Soldier from multiple angles. Somewhere in the back of Bucky’s mind, he was impressed by Steve’s attention to detail, as he had captured almost every leather strap and every pocket and every metal joint. But more than that, Bucky’s mind was filled with impenetrable noise as his eyes roved over the pictures of himself holding a knife or a gun.
He didn’t know what to think. He couldn’t hear himself think.
Oddly, the next picture was of the shield. Bucky glanced up at the shield leaning against the wall, then looked back down at the picture. He was never good with interpreting art. Maybe it was the use of pencil, but the shield looked dulled, and picture didn’t quite reproduce the sheen of the vibranium.
His hand stopped again when he turned the page. It was a picture of himself in uniform, smiling as he held a hand up in salute.
The rest was like the product of an obsession. He had forgotten how well Steve drew people, because all the earlier pictures were devoid of humans.
Now, it was page after page of himself, some from a childhood that Bucky was still struggling to remember, others were from their time on the frontline. A picture of him in school chewing pensively on a pencil, a picture of him covered in grime after crawling through the ditches, a picture of him in a suit holding out a key, a picture of him sipping his beer. The expressions were all different, but the eyes all looked on the brink of a smile.
Bucky didn’t hear Steve come out of the shower, nor Steve calling out, “Buck…”
He was staring at the book in his lap. It was the Winter Soldier, and it wasn’t.
There was the metal arm with the red star, there was the leather suit, the long hair and the short stubble, but he wasn’t the emotionless assassin a few pages back. The brows were relaxed and the eyes crinkled and the cheeks dimpled as his lips curved into an open grin.
And then it was picture after picture of him wearing the Winter Soldier gear, but smiling in a way even he himself couldn’t remember how to.
His vision was blurring, and he didn’t see Steve reach out and hold his shoulder. The warmth of his palm eased the irritating ache that had been gnawing non-stop at where the metal joined bone.
“Whatever you look like, I know you’re still Bucky.”
Mutely, Bucky lowered his head and covered the paper with his hand. Steve opened his mouth, then said nothing more when he saw the tear drop onto the metal hand.
A long time later, Steve turned towards the door and said, “Look, Buck, it’s stopped raining.”
He took the artbook from Bucky’s limp fingers and smiled, “Let’s start from the beginning. They’re all places we’ve been…and any place we haven’t, we’ll go next time.”
(The thing about the shield was I realised the 2 times Bucky disappeared, the shield was such an important part of the preceding fight, and when Steve came to, there was only the shield and no Bucky.)
My second submission for Stucky Week 2021. I had wanted to get out at least three, but shit has been crazy so I only managed two. This is a lil emotional hurt/comfort mpreg one shot. Enjoy, and don’t be a dick if this isn’t your cup of tea.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
(Soo, I kinda underestimated the time it takes to actually write and edit stuff which is why I haven't written anything for Stucky Week yet even though I wanted to. Get Beached is taking up a lot more time than I anticipated, plus I'm working on some other stuff as well. Anyways, I dug up an old idea that kinda fits the day two angst prompt, to at least contribute something, because I enjoyed seeing all the other things people submitted.)
A bit more angsty half-imagine, half-one shot, after writing self-indulgent Stucky fluff for a week straight.
Imagine: The serum encourages cell growth which leads to injuries healing faster. However, this also increases the chance of mutations and abnormal growth.
Read on AO3
Even though they had won their battle against Thanos Steve couldn’t breathe easily. King T’Challa and his sister Shuri had insisted everyone be examined after the battle to assure no injury would be missed and cause further harm. Of course, Steve was grateful that T’Challa offered to share his resources and facilities so generously. Hell, he already was indebted to the king because of the Wakandan’s help in breaking Hydra’s mind control on Bucky.
“I’m fine.” Steve insisted again and again. Pushing everyone to be examined before him. His neck prickled with the awareness of Bucky’s eyes on him. He wiped his sweaty hands on his thighs. Finally, Bucky was distracted by a nurse talking to him. When Steve saw a Wakandan warrior limping towards the exit he rushed over. The perfect opportunity. However, before he could manage to slip out unnoticed, he heard Bucky’s voice.
“Steve, would you come over here for a moment?” He froze. His heart rate kicked into overdrive. The woman he had been holding up extracted herself from his grip and patted his arm.
“Thank you for your help, Captain, but I’ll manage from here on my own.” She smiled, thin-lipped, but grateful. Steve turned, wiped his hands on his thighs again and walked back into the large white room everyone had been waiting in to be examined. The room had quieted by now, almost everyone headed to bed after the exhausting battle.
“Coming.” Steve grimaced at his own voice, quiet and hoarse. He cleared his throat and finally made his way back into the waiting area. The wrinkles on Bucky’s forehead smoothed out and when Steve was close enough, he put his hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, I get that this medical stuff isn’t really comfortable for you to be around. Hell, I still get the jitters when the whitecoats come running, but they just wanna make sure we’re ok.” Steve nodded and tried to smile. When Bucky started frowning again, he forced himself to laugh.
“Jesus, Buck, when’d you get so sensible?” The punch to Bucky’s shoulder might’ve been a bit harder than necessary, but he let it drop and laughed too.
“If it makes you feel better you can hold my hand while they stick that cold-ass stethoscope up my shirt.” Bucky held out his hand, but Steve batted it away. He rubbed his hands over his thighs again, while Bucky put his hand over his shoulder and pulled him towards one of the exam rooms.
“Sergeant Barnes, have a seat.” An impressively young doctor said without looking up from her notes. “My name is Dr. Sitha Noma Liso and I’ll be—” She paused when she looked up.
“I’m sorry, do you need any help, Captain Rogers? Typically, we examine patients in private.” Dr. Liso trailed off at the end of the sentence and raised her eyebrows quizzically.
“No, yeah, I was—”
“He’s moral support.” Bucky interrupted. Dr. Liso looked from Bucky to Steve then back again, then finally nodded.
“Alright. Sergeant Barnes, please sit down on the table. I will be asking you a few questions, then I will do a general check-up based on those, ok?” Bucky nodded and hopped up onto the examination table.
“How are you feeling? Are you feeling any pain anywhere?” Bucky shook his head, then caught himself.
“Might’ve bruised a few ribs.” Dr. Liso motioned for him to pull up his shirt. A dark bruise spread over his right side, like the injury had happened a few days ago not mere hours. When the doctor palpated his ribs, Bucky still grimaced with pain though. She also listened to his breathing, then motioned for him to pull his shirt down again.
“I think one or two might’ve actually been broken in the fight, but your enhanced healing seems to be taking care of everything just fine. Last thing I want to check for is a concussion. Please look ahead.” Bucky looked directly at Steve, reaching his hand out slightly to call back to his earlier joke.
Steve, back against the wall, chuckled, but his throat felt dry. What would the doctor see when she checked him for a concussion? He had noticed a few weeks ago the images in his right eye were slightly blurry, but at least it hadn’t gotten much worse since then. Steve felt his damp shirt cling to his back and pulled it away. His left hand rubbed over the sore spot on his thigh again.
Dr. Liso declared Bucky ready to leave, just recommended he get some rest. Then she turned to Steve.
“Alright, Captain. Would you please get on the table then?” Steve smiled widely, shook his head and took a step back.
“I’m fine, really, no pain. Just here as moral support.” Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve, then he smiled and reached his hand out again.
“No need to be scared, you’re a big boy, aren’t ya? Nothing’s gonna happen. It’s just a bright light.” Steve sucked a breath in through his teeth, he tried to feel annoyed, but the absolute panic churning in his gut had him actually reaching for Bucky’s hand.
The atmosphere in the room shifted when Steve’s hand touched Bucky’s. He couldn’t look at Bucky, but he prepared himself for the snide comment that was surly about to come.
“Sorry, doc, we’ve had some not so nice run-ins with people in your field.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Let us begin with a few simple questions. Do you feel any pain?”
Steve shook his head. His free hand moved to his thigh again, but he froze before he actually touched it. The back of his shirt was soaked through with sweat and clinging to his back again.
“Do you feel any disorientation? A headache? Changes in your vision?” Steve jerked his head from side to side. Dr. Liso hummed thoughtfully.
“Alright, I would still like to examine your eyes because it looks like your pupils are different sizes.” Steve’s feet moved before he even noticed, but with his hand in Bucky’s grip he didn’t make it very far.
“Steve.” Bucky’s voice was unbearably gentle, like he was talking to a scared animal. “It’s ok. No one will hurt you, ok? They never hurt me here, right?”
Steve blinked rapidly but stayed frozen apart from that.
“’M not scared of the damn doctor.” Like you, hanging in the air unspoken. Steve closed his mouth so hard his teeth clicked together.
“Ok.” Bucky’s voice forcefully neutral. Steve breathed out, low and shuddering.
“When- When your pupils aren’t the same size that’s a bad sign, right? I don’ wanna land in a hospital bed again.” Bucky closed his eyes for a moment and sighed.
“No one’s fussing over you. Just wanna be sure that tiny brain of yours hasn’t been bruised too bad, ok?” Bucky searched for something in Steve’s eyes. Steve wasn’t sure what he had seen, but his face contorted into a wide-eyed frown.
“Ok.” Steve said too fast. He could work with that, and hope Bucky didn’t push the issue further.
“Ok.” He straightened up and looked at Dr. Liso. Just a concussion.
“Let me ask you again, just to be sure we don’t miss anything. Are you experiencing any disorientation? A headache or changes in your vision?”
“Something must’ve hit my head out there. My right eye’s kinda blurry. Maybe a bit of pressure.” The best lies tell the truth, his ma had told him when he’d been caught one too many times getting in trouble. She couldn’t afford to leave work every time.
“Thank you for your honesty. Even though those symptoms might not seem serious enough to you to report them, I would appreciate it if you would tell me anything out of the ordinary. No matter how small.”
“Ok.” Bucky's eyes bored into him, prompting him to say something, but Steve remained silent. The doctor finally clicked the light on again. There and back, there and back. Two times on each side.
“It looks like your right pupil is a bit slow to respond, but that’s an expected symptom of a concussion.” She left the sentence hanging in the room for an uncomfortable moment too long. “If you’re feeling fine otherwise, I would be happy to let you leave with Sergeant Barnes.”
“I can—”
“Thanks, doc. I’ll stay with him.”
Steve finally got annoyed and became acutely aware of his sweaty palm still in Bucky’s and pulled away with a start.
“I have a place to sleep.”
“And a concussion.”
Bucky’s stare didn’t falter even when Steve could feel his own eyes burning.
“Fine.” The self-satisfied grin that spread on Bucky’s face made Steve relax slightly. Like this was just part of their normal push-pull relationship instead of Steve admitting that he might need help with something.
Dr. Liso tapped her pen against the chart she was holding and pointedly said, “Goodbye, Captain.”
Steve ducked his head and finally pushed himself off the table. He gasped when his lungs filled with air like he hadn’t been breathing for the past hour. Bucky threw his right arm over Steve’s shoulder again.
“You can sleep on the floor if it’ll make you feel better.” Trying to keep the mood light.
The next half hour went by quickly and quietly. Bucky’s room looked more like a hotel room than anything. Just a square room, two beds pushed together and a bathroom just big enough for one person to use comfortably.
Steve couldn’t get himself to actually take a shower and resorted to wiping himself down with a damp towel. His skin prickled against the cool air even though the water had been warm. Exhaustion was fully setting in and making his movements even more uncoordinated. He missed the tap twice, eventually knocking over the soap holder. His back went rigid, fire running up his spine, but Bucky didn’t knock or ask what had happened when Steve came out.
The sheets were thin and cool against Steve’s skin. Goosebumps ran all the way up his arms, but eventually his trapped body heat warmed him up. He’d nearly fallen asleep when the other side of the bed dipped down with Bucky’s weight. Steve unconsciously relaxed more into the mattress, almost forgotten what it felt like to not sleep alone.
Bucky must’ve noticed Steve wasn’t fully asleep yet. His hand brushed over Steve’s shoulder, then down to his neck and massaged over the tight spots on either side of his spine.
“What’s going on?” He whispered, his voice impossibly quiet. Warm breath ghosting over Steve’s neck.
He couldn’t help but tense up again. Sleepiness drained from his mind, replaced with panicked emptiness. Bucky’s hand worked down his back, following the hard tension on his right side. Before he reached the painful hotspot right there Steve whimpered pathetically and thankfully Bucky’s hand stilled.
“Talk to me.”
Steve shook his head, forcing his eyes shut.
“I’m just gonna take a look, ok?”
Steve couldn’t move. What was he supposed to do? There was nowhere to hide. If he ran, Bucky would catch up easily. He just braced himself, keeping himself impossibly still.
“Ok.” Bucky breathed against his neck. Still so close, it almost calmed Steve’s mind down. The hand on his back moved down to his hip. Bucky slowly lifted up the hem of Steve’s shirt. Clearly prepared to ruck his shirt up to his mid-back before he’d see anything out of the ordinary. Not ready for the out-of-place swelling and bruising on Steve’s lumbar spine. Steve heard the quick intake of breath, but the warm hand stayed on his back.
“Did that happen today?” A wet breath shuddered out of Steve.
“No.” Almost a sob. Cat’s out of the bag now.
“Ok.” Bucky said, then again, “Ok.” He tried to school his voice to be neutral. Then he finally pulled the fabric over the lump on Steve’s mid-back. His fingertips lightly feeling over the hard mass. Steve tried to bite down on the groan that punched out of him, but Bucky must’ve heard it.
“That bad?” Steve hummed a vague sound.
“Anything help?”
“Heat.” Steve swallowed. “Natasha lent me a, uh, hot cherry pit pillow. That helped a bit.” Bucky’s hand tightened on Steve’s hip.
“You never tell me anything.”, Steve could hear Bucky trying not to sound accusatory, but he didn’t do a very good job of it.
“Didn’t tell her either. She just dropped it in my lap and said it’s good for pulled muscles.” Bucky’s grip relaxed some. Seemingly aware suddenly that he was still touching Steve his fingers twitched away. A second of contemplation, then they settled back down, rubbing small circles just underneath the swelling on Steve’s lower back.
“That what this is?”
“Thought so at first.”
“How long…” Now that everything he had been keeping secret was out in the open exhaustion overwhelmed him once more. The final rush of adrenalin draining out of him in shivers. Bucky seemed to notice and didn’t press further for now.
“Ok.” He took a deliberate deep breath. “Ok. Get some rest.”
Steve wasn’t prepared for Bucky to scoot closer and press his entire body against Steve’s back. The metal arm snuck under Steve’s shoulder and finally settled in the space between his neck and the pillow. Bucky’s right arm moved up and over Steve’s chest, pulling him even closer. Bucky’s increased body heat burned against Steve’s back, the cool metal under his neck kept the heat from being suffocating.
“This good?”
Steve could feel his muscles relax in fits and starts, but he nodded, to keep the heat against his back. Only then did Bucky settle down completely, laying his forehead against Steve’s skin. Steve tried to match the breaths and eventually most of his muscles unwound. Though a background tensions remained he felt calmer than he had in months.
