The year is 1990 and Emily Brennan has been a mom for four whole years when she starts to realize there might be something different about her son, James.
It’s his birthday and her husband, Pat, spent an hour the night before setting up an elaborate wooden train set in the basement - complete with sections of elevated track, a tunnel, and a bridge that looked like a certain landmark in San Francisco. James has always been an early riser, so after breakfast they lead him to his gift for some playtime before dropping him off at preschool. James smiles and giggles, excited for the surprise.
When they remove their hands from his eyes to show him the train, he bursts into tears.
“Oh, baby. What’s wrong?” Emily kneels down and strokes her son’s hair to soothe him.
“I can’t play with that. I died on a train!” Emily feels as though she has been doused with ice water. A cold feeling seeps into her gut as she exchanges a bewildered look with her husband.
“What do you mean, honey?” James doesn't answer, instead burying his head further into his mothers clothes so that he doesn't so much have to look at the train set. “Did you have a bad dream about a train?”
James nods into her stomach. Emily feels her gut relax a little in relief.
“Well that’s okay. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real.” James shakes his head frantically.
“No, it was! It was! I was in the war and I fell off a train and I died!” As his sobs start anew, all Emily can do is hold him and remind him that he’s safe. The cold feeling doesn’t retreat until long after he had been dropped off at school.
That night and every night after, James climbs into his parents’ bed looking for comfort from nightmares, each one more horrifying than the last. He describes visions of getting shot at. Of staring down an enemy soldier through a sniper scope and watching him go down. Of being restrained on a table while a scientist injects him with a mystery substance coming from a long needle.
It’s this last one that finally prompts Emily to have a conversation with her husband about seeking professional help.
“I don’t know. You really think he needs a therapist?” Pat asks skeptically.
“Have you listened to him talk about his dreams? They sound terrifying! Where is this stuff even coming from?”
“I don’t know,” Pat slumps in his chair and picks at the label of his beer bottle. He looks lost.
“How does he even know what a sniper is?” Emily mutters, feeling every bit as perturbed as her husband looks. Before she had kids, Emily thought she would be a great parent. She read all the pregnancy and baby books she could get her hands on. But no one tells you that after toddlerhood the advice and expertise just…disappears. There’s no book she can find that tells you what to do when your preschooler experiences trauma brought on by his own dreams.
“Maybe we should ask him about it,” Pat suggests. “I don’t know, maybe he saw something on TV. Or heard it from kids at school. Some parents let their kids watch anything.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Emily concedes with some doubt. It’s true, she hasn’t asked James about the origins of his nightmares or pressed for details on what happened in the dreams. Apart from comforting him in the middle of the night, she’s never brought it up at all; she hadn’t wanted to upset him more.
“Okay,” she decides. “I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
The next day while two year old Rebecca is down for a nap and Pat is at the grocery store, Emily sits on the floor where James is playing with his Legos. For a few minutes, she tries to enjoy playing with her son as he prattles on about what structures he’s building and what the best colors are. She finds it hard to concentrate, though, with the questions rattling around in her brain.
“Hey, James,” she starts, “you stayed in your bed all night last night. Did you have any dreams?” James pauses, Lego not quite locked into its mate, and looks at her.
“Why?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.
Emily schools her face into a neutral expression. “Well, sometimes your dreams scare you and I wanted to see if you got scared last night.” James shakes his head.
“No, no scary,” he confirms. “I just dreamed about my other mommy and daddy.”
Emily feels a chill overtake her entire body.
“Your other mommy and daddy?” She tries to keep her voice from shaking.
“Uh-huh, before you,” James confirms, going back to his Lego’s. Emily picks up a Lego of her own and adds it to the tower in front of her.
“What were they like?” She asks, keeping her tone light.
“They were sad ‘cause I was going to war.” The goosebumps on Emily’s arms are now visible.
“War? Who were you fighting?” James looks at her like she’d said something particularly stupid.
“The Germans, duh.” In any other circumstance, she would have laughed at her son’s baby sass. Now, however, she can barely manage a weak smile.
“James, how did you learn about World War II?” She asks. Her son shrugs.
“I ‘member it.” Emily frowns.
“Did you see something on TV? Or hear about it at school?” She prompts
“No, I ‘member it. I said goodbye to my other mommy and daddy and to Steve and then I went.” James is upset now. His brow is furrowed and he frowns at his Legos.
“Who’s Steve?” Emily has so many questions, but this one seems the simplest.
“I don't want to talk about it anymore.” James looks close to tears. Emily allows the tension to break.
“Ok. That’s ok. Tell you what - let’s bake some cookies while your sister is asleep. If you can keep the secret I’ll even let you have one before she wakes up.” James grins conspiratorially, mimes zipping his mouth, and runs off to the kitchen. As Emily gathers the ingredients, she uses the moment of privacy the pantry door provides to take a deep breath.
The next day, she stops by the bookstore on her way home from work. She covertly carries the book to her chest and lays it face down for the cashier to scan, hiding the title from view. In the car, she flips it over and runs her hand over the title.
Reincarnation: the Science of Past Lives .
***
The year is 2000 and James Brennan is staring at his own face in a Smithsonian exhibit. Well, it’s not his own face exactly, but it’s pretty darn close. And it’s the face he sees in the mirror, sometimes. Every once in a while, he’ll see his reflection out of the corner of his eye and swear the image he sees is older . Or has an old fashioned haircut. Sometimes he even catches the glimpse of a shiny military medal.
Bucky Barnes. The name sparks something in James. It feels right, like slipping into a well-worn pair of sneakers. Somehow he knows - that’s his name .
His mom has been talking to him about past lives since he was a kid. Even though he’s the one with memories that don’t fit his life, he was never sure about the whole reincarnation thing. It just seemed so…weird. Far fetched. Crazy.
Now, though, he has names: Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. In some indescribable way, James feels his soul screaming that this is the piece he’s been missing. He wants to cry. He wants to scream. He wants to reach out and touch the image of himself and the image of the man he somehow knows meant more to him than anybody.
Unfortunately, he’s on a field trip with his 8th grade class and they will absolutely never let him live it down if he loses it right now. Shelbyville isn’t the smallest town in Indiana, but it's small enough for gossip to follow you for the rest of your life. So, James swallows the feelings that threaten to bubble over and trails after his group, already moving to the next exhibit.
That night he lies awake in his hotel room long after his roommates fill the air with snores. The memories wash over him, one after the other. Steve, skinny as a bean pole, getting his ass kicked in an alley. Sitting on a fire escape with Steve sketching beside him. Watching Steve’s back behind enemy lines as he charges into battle. Feeding Steve broth and holding his hand as he lays in bed with pneumonia. He remembers. He remembers .
Before, the memories came to him in dreams. Snippets here and there. Specific enough for his family to realize he wasn’t quite normal, but never solid or numerous enough to make him feel like an entirely different person. There was something fuzzy surrounding each recollection. Something that made them feel not quite real. Seeing that museum exhibit, though, shifted…something. Every memory feels sharp and painful - like a stab in the gut. He can feel how much he misses his old family. How much he misses Steve.
James nearly sobs into his pillow because he just wants to go home .
The ten hour bus ride back to Indiana the next day feels interminable. James does his best to joke and play games with his friends as usual, but his heart isn’t really in the charade. In his old body, he’d had plenty of practice hiding when he was scared, or sad, or anxious. Thinking about that made him feel tired and impossibly old.
It’s dark when they finally pull up into the school parking lot. Parents shuffle their kids into cars so they can get home and go to bed. James spots his mom and trudges over unenthusiastically. Once he’s seated in the passenger's seat she immediately turns and asks him what’s wrong. He shrugs. He’s too exhausted to pretend and too overwhelmed to explain.
His mom watches him with no small amount of concern as he drags himself to bed, tossing a halfhearted “good night” over his shoulder. He stays in bed past noon the next day, only getting up when the urge to shower and eat is stronger than his lingering sleepiness.
Becca ignores him as he walks by her, fresh from the shower. She’s too busy playing Neopets on the family computer to pay him any mind. His mom is in the kitchen and greets him with a smile and a plate full of French toast and eggs. The numbness he’d started to feel on the bus begins to ebb away into gratitude. Thankfully, she waits until he’s eaten almost all of his breakfast (lunch?) before starting the conversation he knew was coming.
“How was the field trip?” James shrugs.
“It was alright. We saw the capitol.” He hesitates. “We went to the Smithsonian. They had a big WWII exhibit.” His mom nods in understanding.
“Did your nightmares come back?” James shakes his head.
“No.” James pauses again, unsure of how much he wants to share. His mom waits him out for a few moments. When he doesn't offer more, she gently places her hand over his.
“James,” she says softly, “What happened?”
That's all it takes for the dam to break. Through teary eyes, James tells his mother everything. He recounts what he saw at the museum and the deluge of memories it brought. Saying it out loud makes it feel real. The loss of his old life, his old family, his old friends, his…Steve. The weight of his grief threatens to crush him.
He talks and cries until his throat is raw and face feels hot and his eyes are swollen. His mom, nonjudgmental as always, wipes off his face with a cool cloth and steers him to the couch. He lays with his head on her lap like he’s a little kid while she strokes his hair until he dozes off.
After that day, James decides to take everything he feels and remembers about his previous life and lock it into a neat little box in a dusty corner of his mind. He has to. If he doesn’t, he’s afraid that Bucky Barnes’ longing will consume him completely.
***
The year is 2012 and aliens are attacking New York. James is crouched under the kitchen table in his Brooklyn apartment, watching the news coverage on TV. The cell towers must be too jammed to connect a call, but he managed to get a text through to his parents and sister letting them know he’s safe. For now. A tremor rocks his building and a picture falls off the wall as James curses. He really regrets growing up in the Midwest and not learning a thing about how to survive an earthquake. He thinks there’s something about door frames? Maybe he should get up and move to the doorway of the bathroom…
Suddenly, as if pulled by a magnet, his attention is drawn back to the TV as a man with a helmet and a red, white, and blue shield fights off aliens from the top of a car like it’s nothing.
Goddamn, reckless dumbass. He’s going to get himself killed . The thought crosses James’ mind abruptly, as though he’s had it hundreds of times. Just as abruptly, he realizes that he has.
That’s Steve. Steve from the museum. Steve from his dream. Steve from the memories that still float to the surface during his weaker daytime moments. Steven Grant Goddamn Rogers.
Except…Steve is supposed to be dead.
The walls of his apartment start to rattle again and James huddles down under the table, hands protectively over his head. He doesnt think the pounding of his heart has anything to do with aliens anymore.
The dust eventually settles and things are clarified. Apparently, Captain America was found frozen in the Arctic weeks ago. He woke to find that decades had passed and everyone he knew and loved was gone. SHIELD generously gave him a few weeks to deal with that before suiting him up and sending him off to fight aliens.
The part of James that is actually Bucky Barnes feels pretty angry about that.
The city has sustained a mass amount of damage and Stark Industries is now halfway destroyed, which means James is temporarily out of a job. Lucky for him, Stark gives all his employees who can’t work from home paid leave while repairs are being done, so James packs a bag and drives home to Indiana.
His mom cries when she sees him. He goes to sleep in his childhood bedroom and dreams about trains for the first time in years.
The next day, James sulks around the house with as little eye contact and conversation as he can get away with. His dad doesn’t mind - he just offers him a beer and settles next to him on the couch to watch TV. His mom gives him plenty of opportunities to open up, but eventually caves and settles for making his favorite dinner. Becca however, isn’t going to give up so easily. After dinner she breezes into his room and plops onto his bed, where he’s sprawled out on his back.
“Personal space, much?” he grumbles, while scooting over to make room for her.
“You’ll get over it,” she says without remorse. “So, real talk: what are you doing about Captain America?” James can feel his defenses rising.
“What do you mean? There’s nothing to do.” He tries to sound firm, but it comes out defeated. Becca shoots him a look.
“So you’re not going to talk to him?” she questions. James sits up a little in annoyance.
“What would I say? ‘Hey, you don’t know me but your dead best friend’s soul happens to be inhabiting my body!’ He’d punch me and then I’d be dead. Do you want me dead?” Becca rolls her eyes.
“You’re oversimplifying,” she states. He raises his eyebrows in question. “Bucky Barnes’ soul isn’t inhabiting your body. You’re the same person.”
“No, I ain’t,” James says automatically.
“That, right there!” Becca argues. “No one in our family talks like that. You call people ‘pal’ like you’re some boomer. The first chance you got you moved from Indiana to Brooklyn of all places!” James starts curling into himself as Becca’s volume rises. She takes it down a notch. “You really don’t believe that, fundamentally, you’re the same person?”
“I don’t know.” James really wishes his family wasn’t so open minded.
“James,” she says seriously, “don’t you think you have all of these memories for a reason? What if this is the reason?”
Eventually, Becca lets herself out and leaves James alone with his thoughts. She’s right. He knows it. There’s always been a part of him that feels like he doesn’t belong. Like he’s missing something. But does that mean he should waltz up to Captain America and tell him that Bucky Barnes has magically come back to life?
No, James decides. That would only hurt him and that’s the last thing Bucky would ever want to do.
***
The day is Tuesday and James is so fucked. He’s been back to work at SI for a couple of months now in the newly rebuilt and renamed Avengers Tower. It’s a known fact among employees that the superheroes regularly hang out in the building. Some rumors are going around that they actually live here. Luckily, James has avoided running into any so far.
Until the door to his elevator opens and he’s face to face with Steve Rogers.
Steve’s eyes go wide when he catches sight of him. James’ heart skips a beat. He knows he should say something casual - anything really - but he can’t make his mouth move. For several long moments, they just stare at each other. Then -
“Bucky?” Steve’s voice sounds confused and a little heartbroken. Shit, this is what James was trying to avoid -
“Captain Rogers, this is Mr. James Brennan. He is an engineer and has been working for Mr. Stark since 2009,” JARVIS chimes in.
“Oh,” Steve recovers quickly. “Sorry, you just look like…someone I knew.” His cheeks look slightly pink.
“I know, I read about him in a museum. Uncanny, right?” James says, then internally cringes. Smooth. He clears his throat. “Anyway, uh, you going up?” Steve takes one step back. Then another.
“I’ll take the next one.” James nods and pulls out his phone to avoid looking at him as the doors slide shut. Once he’s alone, he uses the phone to hit himself on the head and groans.
A few days later there’s a new rumor going around: apparently Captain America has moved to Washington DC to be closer to SHIELD headquarters.
***
The year is 2014 and James is back in DC for the first time since the 8th grade. He had been working on tech for more advanced prosthetics and Stark sent him to a conference to learn more. His plan had been to go straight home after the professional activities wrapped up, but somehow he found himself at the Smithsonian, once again staring up at his own face.
The man in the photograph looks a lot more like him now than it did when he was 14. He’s also glaring, and James feels like the sour expression is directed right at him.
“I tried,” he mumbles at the picture. No you didn’t. The voice comes from somewhere within. It's a voice he’s been trying to silence for the last 28 years. James runs a hand over his face and sighs. He turns to leave and runs straight into a wall of muscle.
“Ope! Sorry!” The Midwesterner in him comes out before he can help it. He looks up, straight into the face of Steve Rogers. “Sorry,” he says again. “Let me just get out of your way.”
“Wait!” The urgency in Steve’s tone makes James’ heart rate tick up. “It’s James, right? Don’t you work for Stark?”
James swallows and nods. “Yeah. I’m just in town for a conference. Decided to do a little sightseeing.” Steve smiles a little.
“You mean stop in and check out your doppelgänger?” James dips his head in embarrassment.
“Something like that.” He’s having trouble meeting Steve’s eye. He feels like a fraud, even though he hasn’t done anything.
“I was actually just about to go get some dinner.” Steve shifts a little on his feet. “Do you…want to join me?” James should say no. He knows he should say no. But Steve looks so earnest and hopeful and he was never any good at saying no to him in his previous life, so why start now?
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, why not?”
***
The year is 2014 and Steve Rogers has no idea what he’s doing. He’s going to dinner with this man even though he basically fled New York two years earlier to avoid running into him. There’s just something about James. Maybe it’s only because he looks so much like Bucky, but Steve feels drawn to him. Like there’s some inexplicable connection between them.
Or, maybe, he’s just so pathetic that seeing a familiar face is giving him the delusion of having his best friend back. Could be either, really.
They end up at a nearby deli with counter service. They order and get their sandwiches pretty quickly. Steve leads them to a table near the door. As they settle in and unwrap their food, Steve struggles to find something to say. He clears his throat a little.
“So,” he starts, “how was the conference?” James smiles a little.
“It was good. It was all about new tech in prosthetics. We’re trying to improve the feedback loop between the prosthetic and the brain. Make them more sensitive to sensory feedback. Regain a sense of temperature, pressure, stuff like that.” James seems to relax a little, talking about his work. He sounds passionate about it.
“That’s really amazing. I bet that’s going to help a lot of people,” he says sincerely.
“Well, we can’t all be Captain America but us little guys gotta find a way to do our part,” James responds. His easy tone takes Steve aback. It’s so familiar; He’s teasing like they’ve known each other for years. James seems to realize it too. He blushes a little and looks back at his sandwich.
“Anyway, how do you like DC?” he asks. Steve shakes his head a little to clear it.
“It’s okay. It’s no Brooklyn, but it’ll do.”
“You’re from Brooklyn, right?” There’s something odd in James’ tone. Steve can’t quite put his finger on it.
“Born and raised,” he says.
“It’s growing in me. I grew up in Indiana but moved to Brooklyn when I started at SI.”
“You picked a good borough,” Steve says approvingly. “Wouldn’t want to live somewhere like Queens.” James snorts.
“Only thing Queens has going for it is Rockaway beach.” Steve laughs as a memory comes to the surface.
“I had to ride back from there in a freezer truck one time.”
“Yeah only because-“ James cuts himself off abruptly. Steve feels a chill go down his spine. Only because you spent our train money on hot dogs. That’s what Bucky would always say when Steve told that story. It’s impossible. He knows it’s impossible. Bucky is dead.
Then, again, so was Steve, for a while.
James changes the subject and Steve lets him. He keeps the conversation up, but the whole time his mind is reeling. He starts to notice little things that remind him of Bucky. James had ordered his sandwich without pickles. Bucky never liked them either. When he’s done eating, he folds up his napkin and the wrapper into tiny squares and stacks them up neatly, just as Bucky would have done. When they stand up to leave, he grins flirtatiously at the woman behind the counter. He watched Bucky make that move a hundred times.
Once outside the door, they stop and face each other awkwardly. James takes a breath.
“Well, nice chatting with you, pal. I’ve got a long drive back so-“
“Bucky, wait. Don’t leave,” Steve blurts out before he can stop himself. James closes his eyes for a moment.
“Steve,” he says softly, “I’m not him.” There's pity in his tone. Steve hates it.
“Then how did you know about Rockaway beach?” he challenges. James’ expression betrays nothing.
“I don’t know,” he says stiffly.
“Don’t lie to me.” Steve’s voice is almost a whisper. He shakes his head. “Please don’t lie to me.” James’ face contorts and he looks conflicted. Then he sighs and straightens up a little.
“Alright,” he says finally. “Do you live far from here? Let’s go talk.”
The fifteen minute walk to Steve’s apartment is silent. Tension radiates off of James in waves. Steve is sure James senses his tension too. James hadn’t continued to deny Steve’s accusations, but what if he really isn’t Bucky? What if this is all some cruel joke? What if this guy just wants a chance to get close to Captain America and is willing to lie to do it? What if it’s just Loki shapeshifting again?
On the other hand…what if this is Bucky? Where has he been for the last several decades? And why does he look no older than the day he shipped off to war?
By the time they reach his door, Steve’s stomach is in knots. He turns the key in the lock and wordlessly gestures for James to take a seat on the couch. Steve sits opposite him.
“Okay,” he put as much authority as he could into his voice, “tell me who you are.” James sighs.
“My name is James Brennan. I was born in Shelbyville, Indiana. My parents are Emily and Pat. But, when I was around four, I started having these dreams. Memories really. I remembered falling off a train. I remembered seeing your face above me and your hand reaching for mine.”
Steve’s stomach rolls. His mouth fills with a sour taste. James continues.
“When I was in middle school we went on a field trip and I saw your museum exhibit. That’s when I realized who I was. Who I am I guess.”
“Prove it,” Steve demands. James smiles a little.
“You used to put newspapers in your shoes. Thought it would make you a little bit taller. I smoked Lucky Strikes but never around you on account of your asthma. Your ma’s name was Sarah.” James looks him in the eye for the first time since the restaurant. “When she died you told me you could get by on your own. I told you that I was with you ‘til the end of the line.”
Steve’s cheeks felt wet. He’s not sure when he started crying.
“Oh, God. Bucky?” He lets out a sob. James looks pained.
“Yes and no. Steve, you’ve gotta understand: I have just as much of a history being James Brennan as I do of being Bucky Barnes. I’m not the same guy from the 40’s.” James’ expression is pleading.
“Neither am I,” Steve answers immediately. “And it’s okay. I just….I just missed you.” The tears are still running down his face and James’ eyes turn shiny too.
“I missed you too,” he chokes out. “Even before I knew who I was missing.”
They meet in the middle, each standing in order to close the distance and embrace each other. As he wraps his arms around James, Steve realizes that this is his first true hug in the 21st century. Sure, he had hugged Peggy in the nursing home, but that felt different. He had leaned over the bed and wrapped his arms so gently around her frail frame. He was afraid of breaking her.
This feels different. This is a hug that feels like coming home. Steve leans fully into the embrace, closing his eyes and resting his head on his friend’s shoulder. He breathes in deep and James’ arms tighten around him. The hug is familiar - one that he and Bucky had shared countless times.
Steve isn’t sure how much time has passed when they finally separate. They wipe their wet eyes and sit back down, this time side by side on the couch. James clears his throat a little.
“So what now?” he asks.
“Tell me everything,” Steve replies automatically. “What did I miss?”
James fills him in on his life: his family in Shelbyville, his college years, getting his engineering degree and starting an internship at Stark industries. He tells him how he started volunteering at the VA in New York, which led to his interest in developing prosthesis tech. He talks about how his friendships have all felt superficial in his adult life, but his relationship with his parents and sister have always been close. He talks about his romantic relationships. Nothing serious, he says. A lot of dates, but he’s not sure he’ll ever “settle down.” Steve asks more about the girls he’s dated, but James skirts around the topic.
In return, Steve tells him about the turns his life has taken. He talks about crashing the Valkyrie and talking to Peggy as he did so. He skips the part about her finding him mid-breakdown in a bombed-out bar though; he suspects that image would be too painful for both of them to bear right now. He describes what it’s been like to join the Avengers and work with SHIELD. He even expresses how terrifyingly alone he’d felt waking up to discover that everyone he knew was gone. At some point during that part of the discussion, James takes his hand. Steve rubs his thumb along his knuckles.
Sam sometimes insinuates that Steve is out of touch with his emotions, but that’s simply not true. The truth is, Steve feels profoundly. He’s always led with emotions. Every fight he’s ever gotten into was born out of righteous anger. Every loss he’s experienced has weighed on his soul like waterlogged clothes. He loves deeply too. Which is why he’s only ever truly shared his heart with Peggy and Bucky. The two great loves of his life, except he only ever told one of them. He holds that back from James now, expecting that he’s not quite ready to hear it.
They talk until the first rays of sunlight start to appear over the horizon and James insists that Steve go get some rest. Steve obliges - he knows how stubborn Bucky could be when it came to looking out for Steve’s best interests. He’s asleep as soon as he’s horizontal, the emotional exhaustion of the evening finally catching up to him. All he can do is hope that James is still there when he wakes.
He’s not, but before Steve can feel too sorry for himself James walks back through the door with bagels and coffee. Steve is grateful. He’s lost too much time already.
***
The year 2014 is drawing to a close, and Bucky Barnes has been reunited with Steve Rogers for three months now. It’s going better than James had ever hoped. The broken pieces of his person have slowly started sewing themselves together, so that he no longer felt like he was battling pieces of his psyche for dominance. Every day his sense of self has grown and every day he embraces a little bit of the weirdness his life has become. The first person to notice, unsurprisingly, is his sister.
“You’re more chipper than usual,” she proclaims. They’re keeping up with their weekly tradition of watching Drag Race together over FaceTime. Steve is back in D.C for a few days - he’s now splitting his time between the two cities.
“Chipper?” He asked incredulously. “I’ve never been chipper in my life.”
“I said more than usual,” she argues. “Spill the tea. What’s going on?” James shrugs, pretending to be engrossed in the judges critiques. It’s not that he doesn’t trust his sister, it's just…he’s so used to cutting off the “Bucky” part of himself. Now that he's working on integrating him again it feels too fragile to share.
“Jay-mes,” Becca whines. “Come on.”
“Fine,” James grunts. Becca grins triumphantly. “I’ve been talking to Steve,” he says bluntly. Becca basically squeals.
“Oh my god, really? Does he know who you are?” James nods.
“He figured it out pretty quick.” Becca gives him an assessing look.
“Was he weirded out?” She asks.
“Not really. He actually accepted it right away. I guess being a human popsicle for 70 years and then fighting aliens really increases your tolerance for the strange and unusual.” James goes for a light tone, but he knows it falls flat.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothings wrong. You just told me I look chipper, remember?”
“And now you look sad,” she counters. “What’s wrong?” James sighs and runs a hand down his face.
“Ok. Fine. I think…I might have feelings. For him. Or at least Bucky did, I’m not sure yet.” It feels weird to say Bucky's name out loud. Like he’s talking about himself in the third person. It felt easier to keep them separate, before.
“I take it you haven’t told him.” Becca’s not really asking, but James shakes his head anyway. “Well, do you think he feels the same way?” James snorts.
“He grew up in the 1930s, Bec. Even if he does, ain't nothing gonna come of it.”
“You don’t know that,” Becca argues. James doesn’t respond. “How did he react when you told him you were gay?”
“Haven’t they used this lip sync song before?” James says suddenly. “Back in season two, right?”
“You haven’t told him?” Becca shouts. “James, you’ve been out since you were 15! In Indiana. You’ve never been afraid of what people thought.”
“Steve’s different,” he replies automatically. “He matters.” Becca is quiet after that. Her eyes are wide and sympathetic. James hates sympathy.
“It’s fine, I’ll tell him soon okay?” He picks up his remote. “Let’s rewind, I want to see the whole lip sync.”
A few days later, Steve is back in New York and asks James if he wants to get dinner. They meet in the lobby of the tower and take the subway together. James is huddled into himself to keep warm in the cold December air. Steve notices and takes a step closer to him, as if he can share his body heat through layers of clothing. James feels warmth erupt in his belly anyways.
They get to the restaurant and order their food. Steve gazes at James with this starry eyed look that he gets in his eyes when they haven’t seen each other in a few days. Like he can’t believe James is real. Like he loves him. It makes James ache. Instead of dwelling on it, James tries to focus on the conversation. Steve is telling a story about Sam cooking something.
“And after he put out the fire, he had the nerve to critique Sarah’s gumbo.” Steve laughs. “You should have seen the look on her face Bu-James. She was ready to murder him.” James can’t seem to force a smile. A wave of anxiety washes over him.
“Sarah?” He asks, trying to keep his voice neutral.
“Oh, Sam’s sister,” Steve replies. James nearly sighs out loud in relief. Inwardly, he begs himself to get a grip. Steve doesn’t seem to notice.
“Hey, you know she is single,” he continues. “She’s got two young kids, but I could introduce you. If you want?” James feels a stab deep in his gut.
“Ah, not looking for anything that serious, you know? Hate to get you in trouble with your friend.” Steve laughs and James tries for a smile. The conversation moves on, and luckily the topic of James’ love life doesn’t come up again. On the way out, he winks at the waitress and nudges Steve on the shoulder when she blushes.
Old habits die hard, he thinks.
It only takes another week for the cat to tumble dramatically out of the bag. James is awoken one Sunday morning to a knock on his apartment door. He rubs his eyes and curses under his breath. His hangover is making him feel dull and sluggish. He’s getting way too close to 30 to drink as much as he had last night.
He’s also way too close to 30 to still be picking up one night stands at the club. Especially ones that look suspiciously like the man who he suspects part of his consciousness has been in love with since childhood.
James moves as silently as possible to avoid waking the blonde man beside him, throws on some clothes, and opens his apartment door. Steve stands on the other side, holding up coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.
“Morning!” He says enthusiastically. Way too happy for this time of the morning. “I ended up coming back into town last night instead of today. Thought I’d drop by with some breakfast.” He pauses and takes in James’ haggard appearance. His face drops slightly. “I didn’t wake you did I?”
Bucky opens his mouth to answer but Steve’s attention is now directed at his closed bedroom door. A moment later, James realizes why. There’s a rustling sound coming from the other side that can only be his hookup getting dressed.
“Oh, sorry! Didn’t know you had a girl over. I can come back,” Steve says hastily. He’s not quite meeting James’ eyes. James himself still hasn’t found the wherewithal to speak when Kyle (he thinks his name is Kyle) exits the bedroom with tousled hair and a half buttoned shirt. He smiles at the pair of men that are staring at him with dumbfounded looks.
“Good time. Call me if you want to do it again,” he says, winking at James. Then, just to make sure there could be no misunderstandings, he kisses James on the cheek and squeezes past Steve out the door. James wants to die . He fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut in shame. They stand in awkward silence for a long moment. Steve eventually breaks it.
“So not a girl, then.” James finally regains motor control of his mouth.
“Why don’t you come in and sit down? We should probably talk.” Steve obliges, setting the bag on the table and handing James one of the cups. They each take a chair and James takes a long sip of his coffee. Despite being the one to suggest they talk, James finds himself at a loss for words. It’s Steve who eventually breaks the silence.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His tone is more than a little hurt. “Did you think I’d mind?” James snaps his eyes up to meet Steve’s for the first time since opening the door.
“Shit. No, Steve. Not like that.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “I just know that I…I mean Bucky, never told you. I thought it might make you feel weird to know that I’m gay.”
“That doesn’t make me feel weird,” Steve responds immediately. “Not telling me makes me feel weird.” He sighs. “You know, everyone thinks that because I’m so old I must be some bigot. I never thought…” he trails off. I never thought I’d have to worry about that with you . That's what he was going to say. James' heart breaks a little.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I didn’t think that. Not really. I just…I didn’t know how to tell you. Not after all this time.” The fight leaves Steve’s body immediately and he damn near sags into his chair.
“It’s alright,” he says. “Be kind of a hypocrite if I got mad at you for that particular secret.” Every nerve in James’ body lights up and his body tenses, a mirror image of how Steve looked a few moments ago.
“What do you mean?” he asks cautiously. Steve shrugs.
"I’m bisexual.” He says it like he’s telling James the time rather than confessing a secret that he’d kept hidden from his best friend for decades. James sets his coffee down and straightens up.
“Seriously? And you were upset with me for not telling you? You had just as many opportunities as me, pal, and you never took one of them.”
“I’m not upset! Told you that would make me a hypocrite.” Steve is laughing and James claps him on the shoulder, grinning wildly. He can’t bring himself to be mad. He thinks about Bucky's life and just how risky of an admission that would have been back then. He thinks about how risky it must have felt to Steve even now.
“Thanks for telling me,” he says seriously. Steve blushes a little and looks askance.
“While we’re on the subject of honesty, I have one more confession.” He takes a deep breath. James tenses a bit. He has a feeling that whatever comes next is going to tip them over some sort of precipice that there’s no coming back from.
“I was in love with Bucky since we were teenagers. My biggest regret was never telling him. I know you’re a different person, James, and I respect that. I do. But I think I’m starting to fall in love with you too.”
James blinks. The stress of the morning and the lingering effects of alcohol in his bloodstream have numbed his emotions. If he could feel right now, he would surely be elated. The sudden dissociation is confusing and Bucky just does the first thing that comes to mind. He takes a huge gulp of coffee. Steve turns red.
“I’m sorry James. I don't want you to think I said that just because of Bucky. I didn’t. I know this is all way too fast. I’m so sorry. I’ll just-“ he starts to stand up and that is what finally snaps James out of his detachment.
“Wait, don’t go!” He almost shouts. Steve freezes and slowly lowers himself back into his seat. James takes a slow breath. Reels himself in a little. “I’m sorry. I was just surprised. The truth is Bucky and I are starting to feel less and less like different people these days.” He sets his cup down and makes eye contact with Steve.
“The truth is, he loved you too. Still does. And so do I.”
James and Bucky had both imagined their first kiss with Steve Rogers hundreds of different ways. Neither of them thought it would take place awkwardly over a kitchen table while he had morning breath and a hangover. It was the perfect metaphor, actually. Steve had always accepted him exactly as he was. He never had to pretend. Never had to fix himself up to be exactly who Steve wanted by his side. Why should their first kiss be any different?
They break apart after several moments, both grinning like crazy. Neither of them speak right away. James is the one to break eye contact first, placing his hand over his mouth and running his tongue along his teeth. They feel fuzzy. Gross. Abruptly, he remembers where his mouth had been only hours before and feels his face burn with shame. He stands up from the table.
“I’m just gonna…” he trails off, pointing vaguely to the bathroom. He walks by Steve without looking at him and yelps when he feels an arm hook around his waist and pull him smoothly into the other man’s lap. James is blushing for a different reason now.
“Can’t get away from me that easily,” Steve mutters in his ear before pressing their lips together again. James practically melts into the kiss, embarrassment forgotten for the moment. He can’t describe how right it feels to have Steve like this. Like both of his lifetimes were building up to this very moment. It feels amazing.
Still, he has a nagging need to clear the air tucked into the corner of his mind. He nearly sighs out loud when he breaks the kiss and rests his head on Steve’s shoulder.
“If I’d known, I wouldn’ta taken that guy home last night. Wouldn’ta gone with all those girls back then either,” he mumbles into Steve’s shirt. Steve’s arms tighten around him.
“I’m sorry I never told you,” Steve responds instantly. He tightens his arms around James’ waist a little.
“It’s ok,” he whispers. “I’m so glad you did now. So glad.” For a long while, neither of them move. They soak in the moment and each other's presence, knowing that things will never be the same in the best way possible.
Eventually, James does shower and brush his teeth. They eat their bagels and reheat their coffee before settling down on the couch and making out lazily. After a while they turn on the TV and alternate between watching movies and kissing. All in all, it turns out to be a wonderful afternoon.
“Is it weird for you?” James asks. They’re side by side on the couch. Steve’s arm is around his shoulder and their bodies are pressed together, as they have been all afternoon. “Being with me I mean. When you were never with him like this.” He still hasn’t quite figured out how to talk about his other self.
Steve seems to think about it for a moment. “No,” he eventually says. “I actually think it would have felt weirder if we were together back then.”
James nods in agreement. He opens his mouth to reply, but Steve isn’t done yet.
“I meant what I said before,” he continues earnestly. “I like the Bucky Barnes parts of you as much as the James Brennan parts. You’re amazing exactly as you are. I want you to know I wouldn’t change a thing.” He stares into James’ eyes as he speaks and James is helpless.
“Come home with me,” he blurts before he can stop himself. Steve raises his eyebrows a little. “I mean for Christmas. Come home with me for Christmas,” he corrects. “I really want you to meet my family.”
A slow smile spreads across Steve’s face. “I’d like that,” he says before he presses his lips to James’ and guides them gently into the couch cushions to get tangled up in each other once more.
Two weeks later they load up a borrowed car (“Seriously, Steve? You’re just allowed to borrow this Audi? This car is worth more than my life.”) and make the drive to Indiana. James curates a Spotify playlist that alternates between his favorite modern songs and big band tunes from Steve’s era. He also introduces Steve to podcasts. They snack and talk and take turns driving, occasionally holding hands over the center console. James kind of doesn’t want the drive to end.
His mom and sister had been over the moon to hear he was inviting Steve for Christmas. He had to practically beg them to play it cool. His dad just asked him what Steve liked to drink and reminded him to save money by filling up the gas tank after he left the city. His dad was really under-appreciated sometimes. James is excited to see his family, but….he’s still not 100% ready to share Steve. And his family can be a lot at the best of times. Still, the man was so excited about the invitation that James can’t find it in himself to regret it.
They leave early in the morning and drive straight through. Although they don’t pull into the driveway until 9:00pm his whole family is still awake and ready to greet them enthusiastically. James rolls his eyes and mutters “told ya” to Steve when he sees them through the front window, gathered in the family room. Steve just grins and pecks his cheek before collecting their bags from the trunk.
James arrives at the door first, accepting hugs all around. As he pulls away from his dad and turns to introduce Steve, he finds that his mom has already pulled him into an embrace. Steve looks a bit startled, but he’s smiling so James figures he’ll be fine.
“Oh my God, Mom. Let him breathe,” Becca complains. Behind Steve’s back, she gestures to his body appreciatively and mouths “nice job.” James subtly scratches his cheek with his middle finger.
Obligingly letting go of Steve, Emily steers them toward the living room and tells everyone to make themselves comfortable. Pat brings a glass of regular Coke for Steve and diet for James.
“Traffic bad on the way in?” his dad asks. James shrugs.
“Nah, not terrible once we got out of the city.” His dad makes a grunting sound.
“What roads did you take?” Steve pipes up to summarize their route and James settles in for the long haul. Every time he comes home his family stays up late to catch up. Never mind the fact that he calls his parents at least once a week and texts almost daily. It’s equal parts endearing and annoying.
It’s past midnight by the time he manages to convince his parents that they need to get to bed. “We’ll talk more tomorrow, Ma. It was a real long drive.” Even though he grew up in this house, Emily insists on showing them to the bedroom and explaining to Steve where he can find the guest towels.
When they’re finally alone and lying in bed, James presses his face to Steve’s chest and sighs loudly. The other man chuckles.
“Your family is really nice,” he says.
“They’re obnoxious,” James counters dispassionately. His family really is the best. Especially with their acceptance of all the strangeness in his life, he knows he wouldn't trade them for the world, even if they are a little on the overbearing side. Steve presses a kiss to the top of his head.
“Thanks for bringing me here.” James feels warm and nuzzles his head further into Steve in lieu of responding. He falls asleep within minutes.
The next morning, James wakes early to the sounds of his dad already cooking breakfast. Christmas Eve is a flurry of activity in the Brennan household. In the morning, they make a big breakfast and are allowed to sit around sipping coffee for under an hour before everyone is kicked out of the kitchen so that the cookie making can begin. Emily and James usually prep all the cookie dough while Becca and Pat go to the grocery store to get all the ingredients for Christmas dinner. Everyone is required to participate in cookie decorating in the afternoon. In the evening they eat a meal consisting entirely of appetizers (various dips, potato skins, chicken fingers, and breadsticks among others) before settling on the couch to drink and watch White Christmas. It’s probably James’ favorite day of the year.
This year, Steve hangs around the kitchen and tries to help with the cookies, but Emily shoos him away and sets him up at the table with a plate of snacks and a whiskey. He shoots James a helpless look.
“It’s 10:00am,” he whispers. James shrugs.
“Pour a little coffee in it then,” he suggests unhelpfully. Steve rolls his eyes and James kisses his temple before strolling over to help his ma. Steve ends up running back and forth to the kitchen fridge to grab ingredients and washing dishes as the mother and son fill the sink with them. They sing Christmas carols as they work. Even Steve good-naturedly joins in at Emily’s request.
Once the cookies are cooling and the kitchen is cleaned up, James excuses himself to go to the bathroom. He’s quick about it, feeling eager to get back to Steve. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this happy and James wants to soak up every second of it. He pauses, however, when he reaches the kitchen door and hears his mom speaking in a low tone.
“I really mean it, Steve. Thank you. I’ve never seen him this happy.”
“It’s no trouble, ma’am. He makes me happy too,” Steve replies. James’ stomach flutters a little.
“I’m glad,” his mom says. “I’m so grateful he found you. His dad and I love him and support him no matter what, but that was never going to be enough, you know?” She pauses. James holds his breath, waiting for what will come next.
“I did all this research on reincarnation. Learned as much about it as I could. Do you know most kids don’t remember past lives after the age of five? Those memories just…disappear.” Steve makes a small hum of acknowledgement. “James’ never did. He never forgot. I always thought the universe was trying to tell him something and it would all fall into place one day. Now it has.”
James has to press a hand to his mouth to stop himself from making a noise because she’s right. Of course she’s right. His mom, who helped him make sense of the crazy, tangled vines of his life knew there was some sort of purpose for him. And his purpose included loving Steve Rogers. It’s completely overwhelming and totally obvious all at once.
“I was never honest with Bucky about how I felt,” Steve’s voice is quiet and sad. James wants to rush in and hug him. “I regretted it. But this feels like we’re getting a second chance. I know James is his own person, but I love him too. Not because he has Bucky’s memories or because he used to be him, but for who he is now. I hope you know that.”
“I have a feeling that who he is now and who he was then aren’t all that different, are they?” James can hear the smile in his mom’s voice.
“No ma’am. Not really.” Emily huffs.
“Stop that ma’am business, Steve. Call me Emily.” Steve laughs a little.
“Sorry. Emily.” There’s a pause. “I have to ask…why did you name him James? And Becca? It’s just such a coincidence.”
James chooses this moment to make his entrance. He swings open the kitchen door and walks up behind Steve, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “Mom was obsessed with James Dean,” he interjects. “I’m named after him. And Becca was named after a Barbara Streisand song.”
“Actually, your grandfather is the one who loved James Dean,” his mom corrects. “That’s why I picked James. And when I was pregnant with Becca I couldn’t get the song ‘Jenny Rebecca’ out of my head. I took it as a sign.” She gazes thoughtfully at them for a moment. “I don’t think it was a coincidence at all, actually. I think it was fate.” James groans theatrically.
“You psychic now, Ma? Jesus. Come on, let’s start making the frosting before dad and Becca get home.” Emily agreeably opens the door to the pantry and James squeezes Steve’s shoulder, taking advantage of the tiny moment of privacy.
“You okay?” He whispers in his ear. Steve nods, and puts his hand on James’.
“Better than okay.” James smiles, and knows that it is.
***
The year is 2015 and James is cuddled up to Steve on the fire escape. He breathes in the crisp January air and embraces the sense of deja vu, for once. His hand drifts idly to his chest and he traces the shape of the dog tags beneath his shirt. His old ones were never recovered, but he had them remade just a few days ago. They were meant to be a late Christmas gift to Steve, but his boyfriend had a different idea. He had taken one of his own tags off the chain around his neck and added it to Bucky’s, and put one of Bucky’s on his. Now, they each wore matching chains around their necks.
James thought it would feel strange, like wearing another man’s clothes. However, the tags felt natural resting against his chest. It was another piece of his puzzle falling into place. James drops his hand from his chest and looks at the biggest piece sitting next to him. He’s leaning back, contentedly watching the fireworks that people are continuing to shoot off in their alleys. It’s well past midnight, but no one seems to care very much on New Year’s Eve. Sensing James’ eyes, Steve looks over at him with an expression so soft it makes James’ heart melt a little. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to his lips.
“Happy New Year Buck.” Steve’s eyes are still closed from the kiss when he speaks, but he quickly realizes his mistake and winces. James finds that he actually doesn't mind.
“It’s ok,” James cuts off the apology on Steve’s tongue. “You can call me Bucky. If you want.”
Steve smiles and somewhere, deep within his soul, James feels a sense of peace.