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The rain came sheeting down from a grey sky, cold and unrelenting onto the streets below. The wind was cold, swirling through the streets, making the rain seem even icier than it truly was, stinging against skin like frozen needles. Water rushed down the sides of the road into the drains, puddles slick on the pavement, reflecting the lights from the shop windows and cafes that lined the streets. It had been a long two weeks. Steve pulled up the collar of his jacket against the rain as he walked up the Royal Mile in Edinburgh towards the hotel, The Witchery where he and Sam were supposed to rendezvous with Bucky and Natasha who had been on their own mission.
Sam looked at him. “Y’know, for someone who’s seein’ his boyfriend for the first time in a fortnight you’re not looking too happy.” He stated, raising one eyebrow slightly, noting the preoccupied expression on Steve’s face, the way that he had barely said a word since they had got out of a taxi further down the street.
“I’m worried about him. It was Nat that texted us to tell us that the mission was done. It was Nat that said that she and Bucky had got to the hotel. I haven’t heard from Bucky for two weeks now, not since they went dark…” Steve broke off with an impatient shrug. “I worry. Sue me.”
Sam shook his head, realising the truth in Steve’s words. “She would have said something if anything had happened to him.” Which wasn’t entirely a lie. He knew that if she considered that Steve needed to know that something had happened to Bucky that she would have said. Unspoken was his knowledge that if something had happened to Bucky that she considered could wait, that both she and Bucky agreed it was better to keep from Steve that that is exactly what she would do. He could understand it. Knew that the only reason that she would do that was to make sure that Steve kept his head in the game on mission.
Steve just shrugged slightly, striding out a little faster, heading towards the hanging sign for the hotel that they were booked into. It was, he knew, a glorious, sumptuous hotel, a place that he’d been looking forward to for absolutely months, long before their missions had ever come up. As they entered and booked into the hotel he barely noticed the incredible surroundings, the beautifully decorated gothic interior, the subtle scents that pervaded the place. Instead he headed straight up to his and Bucky’s suite in the Turret, getting there to find the room empty and turned to see Natasha in the doorway with Sam.
“I need to speak to you.”
“Where’s Bucky?” He asked, hearing how suddenly hoarse his voice had gone, felt cold tendrils of dread stealing through him, heard the blood roaring in his ears before he felt Natasha’s hand come to rest on his arm for a second.
“He’s okay Steve, I promise you. He went out for a walk. But before you go after him I need to talk to you, let you know what happened.”
It was at that moment that he really studied her, really took in her appearance. She looked exhausted, face pale, a bruise showing on one cheekbone. Sam already had stood near her, giving her space in case she wanted it, but close, close enough that Steve knew that he was just waiting for when they were alone that he could reassure himself as much as anything that she was okay, that she was going to be all right.
Natasha drew in a slow breath and let it out with a sigh. “Our mission went south. And it went south fast. One of the green agents that had been sent out with us slipped up and my cover was blown. Hydra picked me up and held me captive. Our handler was Wilkinson, I don’t know if you’ve met him?” Her eyes narrowed slightly and a cold smile just touched her lips, far more terrifying than if she had frowned or allowed her anger to show. “He decided that the way to deal with the situation was to give them what they wanted. To send Bucky in, to hand him over to them to allow him the chance to get me out again.”
Sam swore low under his breath and Steve felt as though he couldn’t breathe, felt as though he was a 95lb asthmatic once again as he struggled to speak. “He didn’t...Nat he...fuck…”
She nodded, ruthlessly continuing. “Oh he did. And James agreed to it, as they knew he would because whatever anybody else knows about him, they do know that he will always come after his friends. He handed himself in to Hydra again. And I know that he has no triggers left in his mind by Hydra don’t know that. They tried using one on him. He acted along, played the part, allowed himself to simply be their Asset once again. He did get me out of there. But they...they punished him for that and although he pulled out, got free, it took a toll on him. We finished the mission and Wilkinson doesn’t have a clue that anything was even wrong so he doesn’t have to worry about being taken off the active duty roster but...As soon as we got here he headed out. He’s barely said two words since we got back. I’m just warning you of what to expect. He hasn’t pulled the tracker out of his phone so it’ll be easy for you to find him.”
Almost instantly Steve was fumbling in the pocket of his jacket for his phone, dragging it out, flicking through the screen to the app that showed the trackers in his, Nat’s, Sam’s and Bucky’s phones that Stark had set up for them.
**************************
Bucky barely noticed the way that the icy water had soaked through his clothes, didn’t pay attention to the way that his skin was freezing, the way that droplets dripped down from his hair as he sat with his head bowed, mingling with the puddle of water that had formed around his feet as it drained from his clothes. He had walked up the road, had gone to the castle at the top of the hill, Edinburgh Castle, incredibly quiet on the rainy, miserable day, tourists remaining in their hotels and apartments, away from the weather. He had gone there as a distraction, something to force him to look at things, to give his mind something, anything else to do that wasn’t remembering the hellish time spent with Hydra once again.
He had found himself drenched through in St Margaret’s chapel, the tiny 11th century church that stood there. It was empty save for him and he sat down at the back of the chapel on one of the small wooden pews, bowing his head as he did, thankful for the silence, for the way that the place had an overwhelming sense of peace about it. It gave him a chance to think, think until his thoughts started swirling around and he couldn’t control them. He could feel tears slowly running down his cheeks to mingle with the rain that had already splashed to the floor from his person. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard, pulling an old, battered rosary from his pocket, looking down at it, letting the memories flood over him from his childhood, from the war, from beyond that to the present day, everything he’d done, everything that had happened.
He could feel himself shaking but didn’t care. He could see his right fingertips trembling as he slowly ran them across the worn wood of the beads. Then he heard the sound of somebody else coming in, looked up, instinctively assessing a potential threat. It was not a threat. It was an elderly man, clad all in black, folding down his umbrella, the clerical collar indicating that he was a priest.
The chapel he knew was no longer a place of worship, no longer had its own priest. He knew that it was simply another part of the castle, yet it was a part that still felt sacred, still held the centuries, nearly a thousand years of devotion and love. He swallowed hard, letting his head bow again, satisfied that the priest was no threat, allowing himself to lose himself in his own thoughts once again. He swallowed hard against the aching sensation in his chest and throat, the grief and the guilt that threatened to overwhelm him.
His awareness was pulled back to the chapel once again by the sound of a low, melliflous voice. “You’re troubled my child.”
Something akin to a laugh escaped him as he looked up, eyes bloodshot, face white, dark circles beneath his eyes while the water still dripped down from his sodden hair, hiding the tracks of the tears that had run unbidden down his cheeks. “That’s one way of putting it.” He replied, hating the way his voice cracked slightly over the words.
The priest nodded, moving slowly closer, sitting down at the other end of the pew, gaze sliding from Bucky’s face to the rosary held in his hands. Bucky caught the gaze, knew that he would have seen the way metal fingers held wooden beads along with flesh, but the priest didn’t react, merely spoke again. His voice was strangely soothing, a voice somehow filled with peace. “This is not my chapel, and this is not a confessional box but if you would like to talk, if you seek absolution, then I am willing to listen.”
He shook his head slightly. “Believe me, you’d rather I didn’t.”
“No?”
“No.” Bucky swallowed and looked away, staring towards the front of the chapel.
“I have heard many things. I’ve lived a long life.”
Bucky raised one eyebrow and looked at the priest again. “Have you heard of the Winter Soldier?” He asked abruptly.
The priest nodded, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Who hasn’t? The world has changed a lot on the last few years.”
Bucky nodded, looking back towards the front of the chapel again. “I’m him. That’s me. And if you’ve heard of the Winter Soldier then you may have at least an idea of what I’ve done, of the things that I’ve been party to, the blood that lies on my hands.”
There was a pause and he looked back to the priest once again, expecting to see fear on that ancient face, to see him ready to leave, to walk away. Instead he only saw kindness, and a hint of sorrow. “That you are here, that you are suffering in the way that you are tells me that you are no simple killer. You were exonerated by the courts, you have been working as far as the world is aware with the rest of the Avengers. That speaks to me of a man who was a prisoner of war, a man who was a victim who nevertheless feels the guilt for things that others forced him to do. A man who seeks redemption. Am I close?”
Bucky looked down again at the beads in his hands, feeling as though he was being scraped raw, slowly flayed open, almost expected to see blood running down over his hands from his bleeding body. Instead there was just the gleam of metal and pale skin against warm wood. “That...you are. But...the things I’ve done… I don’t think that… I still remember it all...every last thing that I did. I don’t know if there’s any coming back from it.”
The priest shook his head. “For the penitent man, the truly penitent man who has examined his transgressions that were not of his doing, there is always a way back.”
Bucky nodded slowly, feeling another aching wave of emotion roil through him and blinked away the tears that threatened to fall once again. When he spoke he kept his voice steady, still looking down. “If you will hear it Father, I would like to confess.”
“Speak my son and I will hear your confession.”
Bucky drew in a slow breath, the ritual coming back to his mind, reminding him once again of being a child, then a teenager, of the nuns who had been in charge of his education, of the scent of incense and the sound of a solemnly intoned mass, the words in latin echoing around the church, the voices of the congregation an answering echo. He paused for a second and pulled himself together before making the sign of the cross. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was over seventy years ago."
He paused again before beginning to speak, going through each and every memory, each and every thing that he had done, leaving nothing out, leaving no detail spared, feeling as though with each and every word he was tearing himself further and further apart until he wondered whether it was possible to pick up the pieces and put them back together again. But still he continued, relentless, driven by the need to do so, the need for absolution.
As he listened the priest did not react, gently encouraged Bucky to continue as now and again he faltered slightly, carefully drawing him out, allowing him to go through everything that he held onto so much guilt for, every last thing that had tormented him since he had regained his memories. When he had finally gone through it all he fell silent, looking at the priest for a few seconds, seeing the calm expression on his face, the way that he had simply taken it all in his stride. “That...that is all I have to confess from those days...when I was…when I was under Hydra’s control...since then? I’ve killed. I’ve killed in the service of SHIELD, in the service of the Avengers. And I don’t know how much has changed since my last confession but, I’ve lain with a man, I’m in love with a man and we are...we are together. In my day, before, that would have been considered a sin…”
“No longer my son.” The priest smiled slightly as he spoke. “There are those who still say that it is, but when a love is true and pure, I believe that it does not matter whether it is between a man and a woman, between men, between women, you are all souls and all deserving of love. Ordinarily I would now give you penance, but I believe that you have done so for yourself already through your guilt and through your tireless working to keep this world safe for the people with it. The only penance I give to you is one Our Father and one Hail Mary. Now I invite you to add to this an act of contrition.”
Bucky swallowed hard and nodded, the words springing to his lips from so many decades before. “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended You. I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of hell. But most of all because they offend You, my God, Who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Your grace to sin no more and to avoid the near occasions of sin. Amen.”
“Thank you. God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace,and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
At the words of absolution Bucky felt a sudden lightening in his chest, as though a great weight had been lifted. The guilt was still there, the sorrow and the regret, but he still felt the soft wash of forgiveness run through him and he gave the priest a slight smile. “Thank you Father, for taking the time, and for listening to all of that. And thank you for giving me absolution...It was...thank you.”
A soft smile crossed the old priest’s face and he reached out, gently patting Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, Sergeant Barnes. You’ve done so much for so many. Your choices now show the man that you truly are, not the things that you did while under the control of others. I’m glad that I could help you, at least a little with the burden that you bear. I will leave you in peace now, with your thoughts and with God.”
Bucky nodded. “Thank you.” He said softly as the old man rose to his feet and slowly walked away, leaving the chapel and going back into the rain outside once again.
Once the man had gone he bowed his head, lost to contemplation before he readied himself to pray his penance.
**********************
Steve reached the steps up to the chapel just as an elderly priest left. The priest paused, looking up at him for a moment. “Captain Rogers? Even such an old man as myself could not help but recognise you, even here on the other side of the atlantic. The man I believe you seek is within, and I assume from your expression that you’re worried about him.”
He started slightly before nodding. “You’ve spoken to him?” He asked, the concern seeping out in his voice, something that he was unable to hide, despite the fact that he felt the need to.
“I have. I have taken his confession and given him absolution. Now I think that he needs not just his faith but that he needs you as well. Look after that young man, Captain. His has a good heart.”
The quietly spoken words, said with complete sincerity made Steve freeze for a moment before he replied. “Thank you, Father. He does, and I try to as much as I can, always will.”
The priest nodded, putting up his umbrella as he continued out into the still driving rain. Steve watched him go for a moment before folding his own umbrella and striding up the few steps to the door of the chapel, drawing in a slow breath, steeling himself before gently opening the door.
It was softly lit within the chapel, the grey light of outside providing almost a warmth against the walls and through the small stained glass windows. His gaze immediately went to Bucky, sat at the back of the little chapel, dark head bowed, his low voice a gentle rumble as he softly prayed, the words so familiar, taking Steve back over the decades.
He knew that Bucky had heard him enter, the slight movement of his head, enough to reassure himself of who it was opening the door had told him that much. Slowly he moved closer, seeing the way that Bucky’s clothes were soaked through, no waterproof jacket covering the hoodie that he wore as Steve was wearing, puddles around his feet, hair still wet through. His skin looked far too pale, and that brief moment when he had glanced over had shown Steve a face that spoke of complete exhaustion. Steve felt something within him crumble at that look and he closed the space between them even as Bucky raised his head, finishing the prayer as he did. Steve sat beside him on the hard wooden pew, not knowing quite where to begin, feeling an overwhelming urge to protect Bucky surging through him, to comfort him. Except he had no idea where to begin, had no idea where Bucky’s mind was, what he could or couldn’t accept.
“Buck...are you…”
“M’okay Stevie.” Bucky’s voice as he spoke was soft, but there was less tension there than Steve expected to find. There was a weariness certainly, a deep seated exhaustion that was a concern in itself, but the edge that Steve had expected wasn’t there. “I shoulda texted you…”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I did. I should have but I’m an idiot and I didn’t. I’m guessin’ you’ve spoken to Nat?”
“You’re not an idiot and yes I have. After what you just went through you think I’m worried about the fact you didn’t text me? I was worried about you...about how you were...that...shit Bucky…” He broke off, staring at Bucky, drinking in the sight of him, just looking at him for a few moments before he reached out, gently brushing aside a lock of Bucky’s sodden hair, fingertips trailing across Bucky’s cheekbone, feeling how cold the skin was beneath his touch.
Bucky smiled slightly, the barest ghost of the expression but it was something that briefly lightened the haunted look in his grey eyes. “It was shit and it screwed me up...and that’s not going to go away overnight I know. It brought it all back all over again, everything that I’ve done, everything that they made me do...and it...fuck Steve I thought that...I couldn’t cope with it once the mission had ended…”
Steve knew that feeling. Being able to carry on while the mission was still going, push everything else to one side and focus on what needed to be done. It was once the mission was over that everything spilled out, where the horrors took their toll. “I know...it’s okay…”
A soft sigh escaped Bucky and he nodded. “It...yeah I know. It helped...coming here. This place, this chapel...it’s stood for nearly a thousand years. I couldn’t help thinking about how many people had been through here, how many sinners had confessed, how many sets of footsteps had echoed from these floors and yet none of them, none of them could have had sins that added up to what I’ve done...and it… fuck I cried...couldn’t help it. Then a priest came in... we talked and...it helped. First time I’d confessed since the forties and he...he didn’t judge, didn’t...he gave me absolution Steve...me...after everything. I didn’t think...I was already thinking that...that perhaps there was nothing left you know? That I was past forgiveness, past redemption, that perhaps it would have been better if SHIELD had managed to take me down, to kill me.”
Steve sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a sudden icy coldness rush through him at Bucky’s words, at the thought, at the realisation of just how honest Bucky was being with him at that moment at the thoughts that had gone through his lover’s head after what he had endured, how little he truly thought of the man that he was. “You’re a good man Buck, with a good heart. I ran into the priest just outside and he said the exact same thing to me. I know that you don’t see it, that you don’t think it because of what they made you do, what they forced you to do, but…”
“I’m trying Steve. I was beginning to think that I had hope, that I was doin’ the right thing...workin’ with SHIELD and the Avengers, before this mission with Nat. It… it threw me for a loop but… I feel… I feel lighter now. Like I got that hope back again y’know?” There was an honesty in his voice that Steve couldn’t fail to notice, couldn’t fail to hear. “It’s okay Steve. You can stop worrying, I know that you won’t but somehow I feel the need to say that anyway.”
Steve couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped him. “You know me too well. Same as you keep worrying about me.”
“Pair of idiots I guess.” Replied Bucky, meeting Steve’s gaze as he spoke, letting him really see his face, see the way that he had been crying, just how tired he was, the fading bruises on one side of his face, the healing cut along his right cheek. “You should see the other guy…”
“Buck…”
“Don’t.” Steve heard the return of the steel in Bucky’s voice, knowing that he didn’t want pity, something that Steve had no intention of offering.
“I’m not. I’m not gonna give you my pity. I just hate what they did to you. Hate that you had to go through that and that Hydra are still fuckin’ you over even now. But I’m not gonna give you my pity because that ain’t what you want or what you need.” He paused for a moment, sitting back in the pew, looking forward towards the front of the chapel. “I was scared.” He admitted finally. “I was scared when I didn’t hear from you. When the only texts we had were from Nat. I was terrified when she told me what had happened, and that you had gone, had disappeared…”
“Kept my tracker on.” Replied Bucky quietly, looking down at his hands, slowly slipping the rosary into his pocket. “Remembered myself enough for that, to make sure that you would know where I was, to know that I was safe, try and stop you from worrying.”
“I know you did.” Steve swallowed and looked down at his hands. “I know. And believe me I was grateful for that.” He was silent for a few moments, looking towards the front of the chapel. “That priest, he seemed like a good one. Reminded me of when we were kids...but things have changed, things aren’t the same as they were…” He knew that Bucky would pick up on where he was going saw the way that Bucky’s expression softened.
“They have. I confessed that…”
“About us?”
“Yeah.” Bucky let out a slow breath. “Yeah about us. And he said...talked about the way that times have changed. He believed in love, not genders and that it was what was important. Which I guess is what I figured all along, same as you. That God would care more about people lovin’ each other and bein’ happy, not about what gender they happen to be. Hearin’ it come from him though after all those homilies when we were children, after everything was…”
Steve nodded, thinking back to those days, to the days when society, their religion, everything that they had been raised to know had taught them that what they were, what they had was wrong and unnatural, remembered the way that it had hurt, had wormed its way into their hearts and minds, had got under their skin but hadn’t been able to prise them apart, instead had merely made them angry and indignant, had caused a festering rage beneath the surface at a world they were convinced was wrong. “I get it Buck.” He paused, slowly reaching out, taking Bucky’s hand giving him the time and space to pull away if he wanted to. Instead he felt a little more of the knot of tension and fear within him slowly unravel as Bucky’s ice cold metal fingers linked with his, squeezing gently.
“I’m sorry, for worrying you. For what it’s worth.”
“Don’t be.” Steve felt Bucky lean into him slightly. “You haven’t got anything to be sorry for. Except perhaps for…”
“Yeah I know. I shouldn’t have done it. But, they had Nat and I couldn’t...I couldn’t not do it.”
“I know. Can’t say anything because I know I’d have done the same.” Steve couldn’t help the self-deprecating smile he gave at that, knowing full well that if the positions had been otherwise he would not have hesitated to have done exactly what Bucky had done. “You’re freezin’ Buck.”
Bucky nodded, hitching one shoulder in a shrug. “Didn’t think about that. Just needed to get outta there. Didn’t really notice it until a few minutes ago.”
“Ready to go back?”
“Yeah. Yeah I am. We’ve got a few weeks off now and a hotel booked…” There was warmth in Bucky’s eyes, and in his tone as he spoke and Steve felt another wash of relief, as well as a sudden nervousness come over him.
He stood up without a word, moving into the aisle, giving Bucky the space to follow him. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, right there and then and he paused looking at Bucky for a couple of breaths, feeling utter certainty as he dropped down to one knee, looking up at Bucky. “I was going to do this on this vacation but...I can’t keep waiting and I want to do it here, while we’re alone and in the eyes of God. I love you. I’ve loved you since before I even truly understood what love was and I love you now and will always do so. You’re my north, always have been. I was lost without you in the years that you were gone. I know we always said that we’d get married if we could, but now, now that we can, James Buchanan Barnes, would you do me the honour of becoming my husband?”
*********************************
Bucky froze for a few seconds, looking down at Steve, looking into those beautiful blue eyes, so deep that he felt as though he could drown in them, looked into that honest, beloved face, shining with nothing but love and he felt as though he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. The enormity of it came crashing down on him, but it felt good, so right, a sensation of peace and calm that flooded through him like an inexorable tide. He drew in a slow breath, taking Steve’s hand, gently pulling him to his feet before drawing him in to a sweet, loving kiss, holding him close, breathing in his scent, feeling the solid, perfect reality of him. “Yes.” He said softly. “Please...yes, yes.”
And that was it.
Steve had asked him to be his husband. He was engaged. To the man that he loved. To the man that he had loved since they had been kids. Had loved since they were thirteen and fourteen respectively and he’d been pulling Steve out of another fight, Steve all blazing blue eyes, balled fists and Irish temper, and he had felt his breath freeze in his throat, had realised at that moment that he loved him. The only time that he had ever stopped had been when Hydra had taken Steve from him, had ripped the memories from him, but when he had been freed from their hold he reclaimed every memory as a personal victory, a fuck you to Hydra and everything they had done and taken from him.
And now, the promises they had whispered in the dark, curled around each other in their old apartment, in tents in the war, promises that had been mouthed, breathed against warm bare skin, promises of marriage ‘and one day Steve’ ‘one day Buck’, those promises could now become reality, had become reality.
He looked at Steve as they slowly moved apart, saw the tears that slowly traced down Steve’s cheeks and he reached up, gently smoothing them away, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I love you. And you’re gonna be my husband...although... I should be pissed at you… I was plannin’ on proposing to you while we were away...got a ring and everything…”
He saw the way that Steve’s expression suddenly change from warm emotion to genuine amusement a split second before a laugh escaped him. “You...that’s...you’re serious aren’t you?”
“Completely. When we get back to the hotel I can show you the ring…”
Steve grinned broadly and Bucky couldn’t help laughing. “Great minds think alike, isn’t that what they say?”
“They also say fools never differ but I like the first part.” Retorted Steve. “You want to head back then?”
Bucky nodded, wrapping one arm round Steve’s waist, gently pulling him towards the chapel doorway, leading him out into the rain. As they stepped outside Steve put up his umbrella again, shielding them from the worst of it, and Bucky felt the exhaustion from the mission really start to hit home, every ache, every bruise, everything that they had inflicted on him beginning to make themselves known, unable to just push it aside anymore. He could feel the cold that had seeped into him, bone deep, chilling him through and the walk from the castle to the hotel seemed suddenly long, despite the fact that he knew it was only just down the hill, down the street. He drew in a slow breath and let it go before continuing, falling into step with Steve, listening to the rain pelting against the umbrella in a constant rhythm, feeling the warmth and strength of his fiancé beside him, looking forward to getting back to their room in the hotel.
Once they arrived at the room he paused for a moment, pulling out his phone, sending a quick text to Natasha to let her know that he and Steve were back, were safe. Then he took a moment to appreciate the sumptuous surroundings that he’d barely managed to register earlier save for noting the entrances, exits and lines of sight around the room. It was beautiful. Everything that they had hoped for when they had booked it so long ago. He turned to Steve, looking at him with a soft smile, seeing the way that Steve too was taking in the surroundings as though for the first time. That told him once again of how worried Steve had been, that his only focus had been him, where he was and going to find him. “It’s beautiful here, huh?”
Steve nodded. “It is. I haven’t looked around yet.” He stopped, not saying anything more but Bucky had already read between those line and nodded. Steve gave him a half smile registering that Bucky had understood. “Want to find the bathroom? Get warm, clean and dry then order up some room service and relax?”
“Read my mind.” Replied Bucky with a soft laugh, moving through the sitting room and bedroom, finding the bathroom and the separate shower room. “Bath or shower? The shower’s big enough for two, although the bath looks pretty good as well.”
Steve shrugged, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, looking in with an appreciative expression on his face. “Your choice.”
Bucky nodded. The bath was appealing, the idea of the heat soaking away the ice that seemed to have sunk into him, easing the aches and pains that ran through him, easing the ache centred around the scarring between the icy metal of his arm and his skin. But the shower meant that the two of them could shower together, that he could make sure for himself that Steve was okay after his mission. It would be hot in there besides. “Shower.” He stated, making his way towards the shower room, knowing as he did that Steve would follow him. Sure enough he heard Steve’s footsteps on the floor behind him. That, he reflected was something else that he noticed about Steve. That he wasn’t silent when he moved, not like he was. Steve kept threatening to get him a bell in jest. But Steve? Steve now? He was unapologetically himself, allowed himself to take up the space that was his, to make sound on the floor as he moved, and in many ways it was comforting, the way that he had become comfortable with his new body, something that he hadn’t been during the war. It was comforting that he was secure enough in himself to simply be as he was.
He pulled his wandering thoughts away and reached in, turning the shower on, letting the hot water spray through, steam beginning to billow as Steve shut the door. He pulled off his boots, tossing them into the corner, then began to peel off his sodden clothes, letting them drop with a wet smack to the tiled floor. The way that the fingers of his right hand fumbled over undoing the button on his jeans, struggled to grip at the edge of his shirt as he pulled it off reminded him once again of just how cold he had become, how low his temperature had dipped in the freezing, ice cold rain as he had wandered before he had gone to the castle. He wasn’t sure how many hours he’d gone for but it was enough to have caused that kind of effect. Once he had finally rid himself of his clothes he looked over to Steve who was already out of his, stood watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. “What?”
Steve raised one eyebrow gesturing towards him, and there was a darkening of anger in his eyes, enough that Bucky could practically see the clouds of ire gathering around him. He looked down, realising exactly what Steve was referring to and sighed softly. The evidence of the mission that had ended earlier that day was still plain on his body, not yet gone although healing rapidly as he always did, just the same as Steve. Which he knew meant that Steve was or already had mentally calculated how bad it had been to start with, which explained the expression on his face. Bucky moved forward, looking at him seriously. “Steve, Stevie it’s okay.”
“It ain’t okay.” And there was that stubborn tone of voice that he knew well, that undercurrent of fury, not directed at him, directed towards Hydra, the Brooklyn accent pushing through stronger as it always did at moments of heightened emotion, particularly pertaining to him.
Bucky sighed again, looking down at the dark bruises that spread across his ribs down one side, the bloodied marks, some stitched closed by Natasha, the marks that he knew Steve would know full well came from Hydra’s idea of punishment. And it hurt, it was a constant ache but he had suffered through far worse and knew that this was something that he could ignore enough to simply carry on, that it would disappear quickly. Instead he just shook his head, noting again just how cold he was before reaching out, curling his right hand behind Steve’s neck, drawing him in, resting their foreheads together. “Fine. It’s not okay. But I will be. Right now...right now Steve I need you here with me, okay? I don’t...I don’t ask you like this often.” And that was true. It was rare that Bucky admitted to the way that he needed Steve at times like this. Rare that he allowed himself to ask for things, instead usually choosing to simply carry on. “I need to shower and to warm up, I don’t remember when I last ate or slept so those are things I need to deal with as well. But more than that Steve, I. Need. You.”
He saw the expression on Steve’s face change, going from barely concealed anger to sudden contrition. “Shit, Buck, I’m sorry.” There was genuine regret in those words as he saw Steve almost visibly deflate, the rage leaving him in a rush, leaving him looking strangely young for a few seconds, almost uncertain. “I should have thought, just reacting…”
“If you didn’t have the ability to spring into a crusading rage within 0.02 of a second I’d be worried about you.” Bucky kept his voice lightly teasing as he spoke, knowing that Steve would already be kicking himself and mentally calling himself out for forgetting to think about what he might need in those moments.
Steve’s reluctant laugh proved enough to him that that was exactly what he had been doing. “Good to know some things don’t change then isn’t it?”
He shot Steve a tired smirk before stepping into the shower, getting under the hot water, the pounding spray stinging against the bloodied wounds that peppered his skin, but at the same time it felt incredibly good and he tilted his head back slightly, a blissful sigh escaping him at the sensation. The heat was almost too much, almost painful where he had been so cold, but he knew that it would sink into him, would take away the icy sensation, reduce the ache from the freezing metal. He felt Steve’s hands gently touch his shoulders and he opened his eyes, looking at him, watching the way that the water had darkened that corn gold hair, the way it streamed over Steve’s perfect body, running across warm skin. He smiled softly, watching the answering smile from Steve.
“I love you.” Those words, simply spoken in that beloved voice were something that he knew he would never grow tired of hearing. There was nothing but truth and honesty behind them, nothing but a simple promise of love and commitment. That Steve still loved him after all that they had been through, that they had been given this second chance was something that never failed to amaze him, but was something that he never wanted to let go of.
“I love you too.” He replied, leaning forward to kiss Steve again, soft and chaste, the water washing over them both.
***************************
Steve smiled against Bucky’s lips as they slowly drew apart, taking the time to study him in the shower without the anger that had been his first reaction when he’d seen what Bucky had suffered again at the hands of an organisation that they’d first fought against the best part of a century before. There was exhaustion written plain in his face, the shadows hadn’t left his eyes but he looked more relaxed, looked himself once again, an easy smile just curling his lips, a genuine expression of warmth there. He picked up a bottle of the shower gel that had been waiting in the shower and tilted his head slightly. “May I?”
A soft laugh escaped Bucky and he nodded. “Be my guest.”
It didn’t take more of an invitation than that for Steve to tip some of the gel into his hands, lathering it up before beginning to gently wash Bucky’s body, hands moving over him softly, skimming the areas that he knew would be painful, ghosting across the marks left there, refusing to cause him any more hurt. He felt Bucky shiver under his touch and looked up at him from where he was crouched, hands on Bucky’s hips and saw the look in his eyes, a look that almost took his breath away. There was such love there, pure and simple that he felt his chest clench and his fingers tightened involuntarily against Bucky’s hips. This man, this man who had been through so much, who had fought through hell and come out still fighting, had come back to him, for him, this man was his, this man was his fiancé, would one day be his husband, this man who he had loved for so very long, who he had mourned, who he had fought for, this man loved him back with everything that he had. And that was enough to make his world feel as though it had lurched on its axis for a second before he pulled himself together enough to look back up at him with a smile of his own.
Slowly he finished what he was doing before rising up, kissing Bucky again, feeling the way that his skin had warmed, feeling Bucky’s hands, warm, solid and real on his hips, drawing them closer together. “Turn around.” He murmured, seeing Bucky’s soft expression at those words, obediently turning to put his back to Steve, letting out a soft hum of appreciation as Steve began to massage shampoo into his hair. There had been a time when Bucky would not have let anyone touch him that way, not even Steve, refusing to be vulnerable in any way, fiercely independent after having so long been the puppet of Hydra. Now he submitted with pleasure as Steve touched him, allowed Steve to take care of him. Slowly Steve washed the shampoo out of Bucky’s hair, gently ran conditioner through the dark strands, rinsing it clean before letting his fingers stray down, gently pressing against the muscles of Bucky’s neck and shoulders, along the top of his back, feeling the knots there, hearing the soft hiss that escaped Bucky as he did. He pressed an apologetic kiss to the side of Bucky’s neck, knowing how tense and sore he got from the constant toll his arm took on the rest of his body.
“Get dried off while I shower, I’ve brought the massage oil with me.” Murmured Steve, low voice gentle.
“Thanks.” Bucky turned around, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek before getting out of the shower, picking up one of the towels and disappearing out of the room leaving Steve to finish the shower alone.
As Steve turned off the water and stepped out to get his towel he couldn’t hear any noise from the bedroom or the sitting room, but that wasn’t particularly unexpected. He was used to Bucky being entirely silent, being the ghost that so many had called him, living up to his own legend without thinking about it, his silence as natural now as breathing. That was something that had been strange to get used to, the lack of noise as Bucky moved, although he still sang around the house on good days, still whistled tunes under his breath as he went about his daily business, still loved music. Steve picked up his towel, incredibly thick and luxurious, towelling himself off before heading through to the rest of the suite of rooms. Their dirty clothes could wait. There were things that were far more important.
In the bedroom Bucky was sprawled across the bed clad in nothing but a pair of comfortable charcoal grey sweatpants riding low on his hips, reading the newspaper that had been waiting for them when they had arrived. He glanced over his shoulder with a slight smile as Steve came in, drying off his hair before tossing his towel to join Bucky’s in a heap on the floor.
“I ordered some food from room service. Ordered for you too, figured you’d be pretty hungry as well.” Commented Bucky, folding up the newspaper, placing it on the bedside table.
“You know me too well.” Steve pulled on navy sweatpants, rifling through his bag to find the bottle of massage oil that he knew was in there somewhere. He found it, fingers closing around the cool glass of the bottle and straightened up, going over to the bed getting up beside Bucky, nudging him with his knee. “Get settled.”
It was a routine they both knew well and Bucky nodded, getting comfortable, lying on his front, while Steve straddled him, centring himself, looking down at him. He took a moment there, just appreciating the view before him, looking at the warm, creamy colour of Bucky’s skin, the powerful muscles of his back and shoulders, the way those muscles played beneath his skin as Bucky shifted slightly. He looked too at the way that the light gleamed on the metal of his left shoulder and arm, the scarring that formed a seam where it joined his body. He curled over, hands either side of Bucky’s shoulders as he pressed a soft line of kisses down the scarring, hearing Bucky’s sharp intake of breath, knowing how sensitive parts of it could be. He heard Bucky’s low chuckle before he spoke. “You havin’ fun there, pal? We ain’t gettin’ any younger you know…”
“Can’t I take a moment to appreciate my fiancé?” Steve retorted, loving the way the words sounded as he spoke them aloud, loving the way that Bucky froze for an instant before looking back at him over his shoulder with a soft smile.
“That sounds like something that perhaps you could do.” The reply held a hint of amusement as Bucky settled back down again.
Steve smiled to himself, picking up the bottle of oil again, rubbing some between his palms to warm it up before getting to work on the painful knots and sore muscles that he knew Bucky was suffering from. He knew that Bucky had told him enough times that although it hurt like hell sometimes while Steve was working the knots out, it felt good and took away the pain afterwards. He worked with firm strokes, keeping a constant pressure, resisting the urge to stop when he heard Bucky hiss under his breath and swear softly. They had long agreed that if Bucky needed him to stop he would say so. Instead he kept going, feeling the tension work out of Bucky, feeling him relaxing, letting out less sounds of pain, instead soft sounds of pleasure until he felt boneless beneath him, melting into the bed. “Better?”
Bucky let out a sound that could have been agreement but was muffled by the pillow as Steve moved off him. After a moment he raised his head. “You got magic fingers Steve. You ever get bored of the Captain America gig there is definitely a career for you as a masseuse.”
A laugh escaped Steve as he looked at Bucky as he rolled over, looking infinitely more relaxed, a warm smile on his lips, easy and lazy, his eyes sleepy, whole demeanour that of a man who was relaxed and comfortable exactly where he was. It was such a change to the way that he had been earlier that day, the atmosphere in the room one of complete ease that it was hard to believe the things that had preceded it. It was an overwhelming relief. He knew that it didn’t mean that things were going to be completely easy, knew that Bucky was going to be more predisposed to nightmares than usual, knew that most likely he would as well for the next few days. He knew that it was something that they needed to talk about, that they would need to let it out, let things go, but it could wait. This evening was theirs, one of celebration, of being together, of living still, of their engagement and the fact that they now had several weeks where it was just them, Natasha and Sam, enjoying some well earned time off together.
“You’re thinkin’ Stevie…” Bucky raised one eyebrow at him, before stretching languorously against the duvet and the cushions. “Dangerous.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Jerk.”
“Punk.”
There was the sound of a knock at the door and a voice announcing that room service had arrived. Steve rolled off the bed and padded over to the door, opening it up, taking the tray from the man stood there before going back into the bedroom where Bucky was sitting up on the bed, space beside him for Steve.
“C’mon up here handsome...figure we could eat now… then just relax, take some time until dinner later tonight?”
Steve nodded, just looking at Bucky, sitting on the four poster bed, back against the headboard, surrounded by the beautiful, historical gothic surroundings and decor, looking thoroughly gorgeous, a little battered, a little beaten, but still utterly beautiful to him. The sumptuous surroundings were far from what they had been used to but it was something that he was fairly confident they could get very used to very easily. He moved back to the bed, settling down carefully, putting the tray down on the bedside table, pouring each of them a steaming cup of tea from the pot, handing one over to Bucky along with a bowl of something that he had no idea what it was. “What is this you’ve ordered?”
“Clootie dumpling.” Replied Bucky with a grin. “Sounded interesting so I googled it. I think you’re gonna like it...I figured we’d have it with a drizzle of cream and a dram of whisky because...hell we’re on holiday, we have insane metabolisms and I think we’ve earned it. Besides, after all that rain...isn’t whisky supposed to ward off a cold?”
Steve grinned in return and shook his head. “Anyone ever told you that you’re ridiculous?”
“Only you. But then I’m only like this with you. Good job really. Pretty sure my reputation would take a nosedive otherwise…”
The laugh that escaped Steve was one that he couldn’t help, hearing Bucky finding a level again, back to himself after the fallout from the mission. “Yeah fair point. Ain’t that many assassins that tend to get called ridiculous.”
“Precisely. So, let’s keep it that way.” Replied Bucky with a smile, taking a mouthful of his tea. “This is perfect you know. Makes me forget everything else. Right here, now, like this, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. I know it’s sappy and I don’t give a damn, but I love you, you’re my north Stevie, and I love and trust you, mind, body, heart and soul.”
Steve swallowed hard, leaning in to kiss Bucky, sweet and tender, full of need, full of love. Kissing him was like coming home, again and again, something that he could never tire of. “Love you too, Buck. And I know what you mean. Right here this feels like an escape from the world, a haven.”
And it was. It seemed as though the world was something far away from them, that they were there in a place entirely apart. It was he knew an illusion, but one that they could both treasure, could both enjoy for the time being, at least for that night. They deserved as much in his mind after everything, after all they had both been through. The lamplight was soft and low, the light outside a mellow grey as the rain beat against the window in a constant, steady tattoo. There was the scent of warm, clean skin and shampoo, the scent of tea and of the clootie dumpling, fruity, sweet and rich rising up, mingling in the air. There was nothing in those moments save him and Bucky, the two of them together, in love, promised to one another, yet another layer to their relationship, something still more, still deeper between them. It was a moment of perfection, with his love, his partner resting next to him, shoulder to shoulder, pressed up warm and close together. They would be all right. Together.
End.