So let go of myself and feel alive
Contrary to what the history books say, Steve Rogers actually got into about the same amount of fights as everyone else on their block. History likes to paint the picture of the punk just walking around looking for trouble in the back alleys of Brooklyn, and although that’s sometimes what it felt like to Bucky, realistically it’s not true. It’s just that, in their neighborhood, almost everything was a good reason to fight. When someone was challenging your manhood, you had to fight them. When you felt that someone had disrespected you, you had to square up. The difference between Steve and the rest of the borough, was that he only fought in defense of others. So, when he saw Tommy Rogers wouldn’t leave Lena Stine alone when she denied him a date, or when he heard Mark Harrids call Caddie Lewis a slur, he’d tucked his thumbs into his clenched hands,just like Sarah had taught the both of them, and went to fight for what he considered to be right. Steve only fought for noble causes, he wasn’t out to hurt anybody, just defend the innocent.
Bucky had always admired this, among everything else about his love, especially because that hadn’t exactly been the case for him. Bucky has always been a bit less patient than his other half, a bit more attuned to impulsiveness. He was also bigger, and had more muscle than Steve, which meant that he often found himself at the center of weekly brawls for dominance with the other young men on the block, or throwing down with someone that had insulted Steve. And as stupid, and meaningless as they were, Bucky kind of enjoyed them. He liked the release that he felt whenever he landed an uppercut, the freedom and pure power he felt when he’d finally knocked down his opponent. He was always nervous to mention that to Steve. There’s almost nothing Bucky had ever felt the need to keep secret from Steve, but this, he felt ashamed of. Just a few weeks before the kidnapping, they were curled up with Steve’s head in his lap, when Bucky finally breaches the subject.
“I used to hit kids back in Brooklyn.” He blurts out, pausing the hand that had been running through Steve’s hair. Steve snorted, not taking his eyes off of Emperor’s New Groove, and popping another twizzler into his mouth.
“We all did Buck.” He jokes.
Bucky’s lack of response must prompt something however, and he slowly turns his head so their eyes can meet, and the action has Bucky feeling his heart in his throat. If there’s anything that Bucky knows on this Earth, it’s Steve, and he knows the kid would never judge him for something like this, not after everything they’ve been through. Still though, Steve is just so good. While he was far from the pristine image of Captain America he’s often portrayed as, he is the moral righteousness and honest intentioned that Bucky loves more than anything. Bucky had willingly hurt others, and he’d enjoyed it, a far cry from his days as winter soldier, which he’d come to acknowledge were beyond his control. He tells the younger man this much, detailing his prior inability to walk away from a fight concerning Steve, the way he used to just tussle with other grown men to let off some steam, the joy he used to feel in causing physical harm. Steve goes very quiet, and for a second, still holding their gaze.
“Well do you like it now?” The question catches Bucky off guard and he stills. Honestly, he doesn’t know. Everything is different here in the twenty-first century, and he’s not expected to defend anyone’s honor here. He hasn’t hit anyone for a non-avengers reason since his brainwashed days. He realizes he’s taking too long to answer and makes a split decision to shake his head in confirmation, rather than allowing the conversation to get any more awkward. If Steve notices Bucky is lying he doesn’t mention it, just places a gentle hand on Bucky’s cheek and tugs him towards him for a kiss.
“Good.” He says decisively, before turning back towards the movie.
“But Buck?” “
Yeah sweetheart?”
“Don’t go hitting anybody else for my sake. I can fight my own battles, you jerk.” Bucky doesn’t respond, doesn't say that the punk was capable back then too, but Bucky had still done it. Maybe it’s the so-called provider complex, the team is always teasing him about, but he would promise his honey anything, except this, because as long as there’s breath in his body, James Buchannan Barnes is going to fight for Steven Grant Rogers.
So, six months later, when Steve had been missing for about three weeks, it’s not like Bucky wants to hit Stark. For as much as he dislikes the billionaire, and often wants to ring his neck for the way he treats Steve, he’s never actually wanted to hit him. It’s clear as Stark begins to stalk towards him that Stark is sporting a ratty old MIT sweatshirt that Bucky’s sure he’s seen the kid don, that he’s attempting to blink away the tiredness .He looks about as awful as Bucky feels. As he approaches, Bucky gets a better look at the deep black bags under Stark’s eyes and the slight tremors that wrack through his whole body, though Bucky’s not sure if they can be attributed to the pure exhaustion or the caffeine abuse, he might even be a little drunk, as he stumbles through the room. It’s clear however, that Stark is running on anxiety and agony, courtesy of Bucky’s own doing. Stark breezes by him, barely sparing Bucky a glance as heads straight for the coffee machine. His hands tremble as he takes as he swipes an unwashed mug from the sink, either too tired to notice, or too drained to care. The tremors worsen as he tries to open the jar of grounds, and Bucky lets him struggle for a few minutes, torn on what he should do. On one hand, approaching Tony Stark right now feels like the absolute last thing anyone, let alone Bucky should do right now. He’s distraught, lost and combative, all of which are indirectly Bucky’s fault. On the other hand, it’s clear the man needs help, he’s weak from fatigue and looks like a decent gust of wind could blow him over, and Bucky has ruined his life, the least he can do is try to help the man pour a cup of adrenaline. Before he can stop himself, Bucky is crossing the room and scooping a hefty amount of coffee beans into the grinder.
“Don’t fucking touch it.” Stark growls from the right of him, but he makes no move to physically stop Bucky, as though his body has yet to catch up to his brain,he’s half a second too late, as Bucky starts the machine. As soon as the keurig roars to life, a tense silence falls over the two men, and the last shred of Bucky’s self-preservation tells him to get out. He turns towards the door when he hears Stark’s muted self-deprecating laugh. When Bucky turns back around to face him, Stark is resting his head in his hands on the counter, staring directly back at Bucky.
“I hate you. You know that?” Stark huffs out. "
Yeah, I know that.” Bucky whispers in response, because of course he knows. Stark had never exactly been quiet about his dislike for Bucky before this disaster, and understandably so.Then, Bucky had gone and let his son get kidnapped, surely he hated him, he has every right to. Truthfully, Bucky is just grateful that Stark has let him stay in the tower as the search continues, realistically he doesn’t know where he would have gone otherwise. Still though, Stark’s use of the word cuts deep. Steve used to overuse the word according to their ma’s and Bucky had to hear them both lecture about it at length. “Love and hate are the strongest words in the language, you don't use either of ‘em unless you know you mean it” Bucky’s ma had reprimanded. So, they’d both amended their language, reserving hatred for only when absolutely prompted. Bucky hates HYDRA. Bucky hates nazis. Hatred is reserved for the most vile, cruel and awful creatures. Bucky, wouldn’t like to consider himself any of those things, but Stark clearly feels as though he belongs in that category, and Bucky can’t argue with his assessment. Stark just continues as though he hasn’t said a word.
“I knew my kid shouldn’t have been out there. He’s sixteen! He doesn’t even have his fucking learner’s permit and you asshole wanted him out there as a goddamn avenger!” Bucky flinches at the mention of Peter. Sometimes, he gets so caught up in his grief about missing Steve that he doesn’t feel like he’s taken the proper time to mourn the teenager sized void that has also been missing from his life for weeks now. Peter Parker had also gone missing that day. The kid who had asked if he could be Bucky’s best man when he saw the ring Bucky’s been carrying in his pocket for years.The kid who always asks if they can get milkshakes whenever Bucky picks him up from school. Peter, the kid Bucky considers to be his nephew, had been kidnapped right alongside the love of Bucky’s life. The two people Bucky intends to protect with his life are now god knows where with the very people Bucky swore to destroy. Sometimes Bucky forgets the full weight of his failures and thought has bile rising in his throat.
“And now I’ve got to get my son back by my goddamn self, and you better pray to every god out there that he’s okay because I swear-”
“He’ll be okay.” Bucky interrupts, and he means it.
“Yeah and how do you know that, genius?” For some reason the question angers Bucky. He knows he’s being baited into an argument, and he really doesn’t want to do this right now, but without Steve, Bucky feels exponentially weaker, and he’s vulnerable. He takes the bait.
“He’s with Steve. He’ll make sure Peter is okay.” It’s true, and the both of them know it. It’s a thought that keeps Bucky up most nights, knowing that Steve is out there, alone, scared, and trying to protect Peter all by himself.
“Yeah, because that went so well the first time.” Stark snarks back, and Bucky is beginning to wonder if this is what they both need, a good, old- fashioned dick measuring contest.
“Don’t talk about Steve like that.” Bucky warns, and there’s an edge in his voice to suggest Stark is approaching a line he doesn’t want to cross. “Steve would do anything for that kid, you know that. Do not go there.” Bucky’s tone leaves no room for argument, but of course,Tony Stark has never been one to back down when challenged.
“If Steve would have been the great hero all of you pretend that he is, my kid would be here right now.” Neither one of them are thinking straight, attempting to survive off of coffee instead of meals, and adrenaline instead of sleep is beginning to cloud their judgement. Stark doesn’t mean the nonsense he’s spewing, he’s just trying to get a reaction out of Bucky. He’s trying to see whether anger taking the place of depression can feel any better, Bucky reckons he’s doing the same.
“Tony. That’s your last warning.” Bucky feels his metal fist clench unintentionally at his side. “What are you gonna do about it big guy, you gonna hit me? You gonna beat me up with the arm that I built for you? That’d be a new low, even for you.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you think of me, but don’t act like this has anything to do with Steve.” Bucky responds without hesitation.
“How’s this? Your little boytoy was the reason Peter got kidnapped, and it’s my worst nightmare for my kid to be stuck with that selfish prick.” The coffee machine beeps to indicate that the pot is done. The tense silence returns. Bucky won’t pretend he knows what it feels like to be a father missing his son, he can’t imagine the agony of yearning to have his child back. Later, Bucky’ll look back at this moment and feel nothing but shame for letting his emotions get the better of him, when Stark clearly isn’t in the right frame of mind. But when anyone decides to drag Steve’s name through the mud, Bucky can’t help but react. He reaches past Stark and uses his flesh hand to grab the coffee pot and thrashing it into the cupboard door, shattering the glass across the kitchen and slicing into the bare skin on his hand. He grabs a stray shard and points it at Stark.
“Say something like that again, I fucking dare you.” Stark, to his credit, doesn’t flinch, just hold Bucky’s gaze for a few seconds, before giving a tiny nod. Satisfied, Bucky turns back towards the door, leaving the mess of broken glass and spilled coffee to be dealt with later.
Later that night, he wonders whether Steve would be proud of him, and he laughs at the thought. He had just threatened their teammate, Steve would be disgusted by him. Brainwashed or not though, at one point, Bucky had been the winter soldier. If he had wanted to seriously hurt Stark in that moment, he could have done it with his eyes closed. He amends his question then, and wonders whether he would get any credit for not hitting Stark, no matter how bad he might have wanted to. At least this time, the only person that got hurt was Bucky. He wonders whether his mangled, bloody right hand, as an indicator of Bucky’s self restraint would make Steve proud. A twisted, lovestruck, part of himself hopes the answer is yes.