Comfyvember 26
Story: Captain America (Winter Soldier!Steve AU) Prompts: Confession — Crying hug — Picnic
It wasn't much of a picnic. Just a cup of coffee and a bagel from the cafe on the corner, most of which had ended up in the water for the ducks to eat anyway. But Bucky lingered on the cold grass long after his breakfast was finished, leaning up against an obliging weeping willow that half-hid him from the world with its long, trailing branches.
Sam would have come too, if he'd asked. He would have filled the air with dumb jokes, and probably made up a whole picnic basket for them if Bucky had let him.
But Bucky had a feeling his stomach would still feel hollowed out and empty, even full of Sam's good homemade food. And Sam's quips and banter would have fallen on deaf ears, so much noise jangling at the edge of his consciousness.
Bucky thought about getting to his feet and going back to Sam's house, where he'd semi-permanently crashed since his own apartment was in shambles after....
His left arm ached. The bullet wound had healed ages ago, the sling discarded earlier than Sam had wanted, and all that was left was the scar.
Steve didn't scar like he did. That was something they'd both discovered, in those early days after the serum when Steve had led the Howling Commandos. His body regenerated faster than scar tissue could form, or something like that. Bucky didn't remember the explanation the doctors had come up with.
That was one reason they hadn't realized the stuff Hydra had given Bucky had slowly begun to change him too. His wounds healed faster and more effectively than normal, but it still took longer than Steve, and the worst injuries still left scars.
Maybe it was because he was stuck in his head, mulling over old memories and new regrets, but it took Bucky several seconds to realize Steve stood there, right outside the dome of the willow tree. Bucky caught his breath, afraid to move, afraid to say anything.
Slowly, Steve pushed aside the branches and stood before Bucky. He looked horrible, now dressed in a ratty hoodie and muddy jeans rather than the gear Hydra had fitted him out with. He also wore a faded ball cap, like that was any kind of disguise for Steve Freaking Rogers.
Steve wasn't looking at him, just staring at his feet. Huge shadows ringed his sunken eyes, and several days' worth of stubble covered his chin. He looked like he hadn't slept since the day they'd brought the helicarriers down.
You aren't dead? Bucky wanted to say. Or maybe something similarly stupid like Does your arm still hurt?
Before Bucky could figure out what to do or say, Steve pulled his hands out of the pocket in the front of his sweatshirt. Bucky tensed for a moment, but Steve's hands were empty. He pressed his wrists together in front of him, holding them out towards Bucky, and then sank to his knees.
They sat frozen like that for a moment. Bucky felt like if he moved, Steve would zip away like a startled bird.
Finally, Steve muttered in a hoarse growl, “Restrain me.”
“What?” Bucky whispered. “I'm not....”
“I'm surrendering to you,” Steve muttered, still not looking up at him. “Arrest me. Lock me up. Kill me. Do what you have to do.”
That voice...it wasn't the cold, flat, ruthless tone of the Winter Soldier. It was.... “Steve?”
He flinched at that, his arms slowly lowering to his sides. “I...I remember.” His voice was nothing but a tiny whisper, but those words echoed in Bucky's ears like it was the only sound in the world. “I...remember you.”
Bucky tried to say something, but it turned into nothing but a strangled, choking sound at the back of his throat.
“I don't know...I don't know who I am,” Steve continued in a mumble directed towards the dirt. “But I know...you know me. Who I was. Before. And I kn-know...I know I wasn't always...like this. I used to be...I was...good. I'm not anymore.” He slumped forward, fingers digging into the dirt as he practically bowed before Bucky. “You're my enemy...you tried to stop me...and I...I want you to stop me. Kill me. Please.”
“Shut up.” Bucky pushed forward, grabbing Steve by the shoulders and pulling him upright.
For a moment, Steve's startled eyes looked into his, full of confusion and surprise. Then Bucky pulled him into a crushing hug.
“Idiot!” Bucky angrily swiped a sleeve across his streaming eyes. “I'm not going to kill you! And I'm not your enemy.”
“You're...not?”
The sob of laughter that erupted from Bucky's throat was painful, but he didn't mind in the slightest. “No, Steve, no. You're my friend.”
