I gotta put her in the water!
This is my choice.
Steve wakes up gasping. Oh. He looks around as the birds chirped outside the window, the sun seeping through the white curtains and to his face directly.
Birds. Curtains.
Steve jolts out of his bed—his Brooklyn bed—as he scans the familiar room with panic washing over his face. The sketches nailed on the wall. The makeshift dining table made with an old bathtub beneath a plank of wood. The thrift store seat with a stack of worn-out books as a replacement for its broken leg. This is his apartment. In Brooklyn.
He's supposed to be inside Red Skull's ship, the Valkyrie, drowning in the ocean. Freezing. Accepting his fate. But here he is in his home, warm, alive. This can't be.
Is this a dream?
Steve groans and places his palms on his face frustratedly, basically smothering himself to maybe wake up until he feels something wrong. His face just shrunk . And by the looks of the distance between his gaze and the floor, he did too. Running to the nearest mirror (in which he almost tripped over his canvas on the floor), Steve felt light as hell and when he saw himself, his suspicion was right.
There he was, the little guy once again. Steve releases a heavy sigh and sags his shoulders, his mind attempting to process all this but was distracted by keys jingling at the other side of the front door. Once it swings open, Steve felt himself sit down on his bed, mouth agape.
"Jesus Christ, Steve, don't look at me like you've just seen a ghost." Bucky rolls his eyes as he shuts the door, lifting a brown paper bag to his face with a grin. He also has a bunch of bigger bags with groceries tucked in his right side, settling them down on the table nearby. Steve still couldn't speak because if he really is dreaming then it has never felt so real. Bucky is alive in front of him right now. How many times has he wished to see him again like this ever since he had to bury an empty coffin with the name of his best friend? Steve could feel his heart clench, only hearing Bucky's rambling as a white noise that contrasts the beating of his heart that he's hearing in his ears.
Bucky stops in front of Steve and snaps his fingers a few times before waving a hand, and that brings back Steve.
"...Are you okay?"
"What were you saying?" Steve speaks for the first time, almost a whisper, still staring at the brunet before him. His color-blindness is back. Bucky's blue eyes look dull. Everything seems to be, he realizes.
"I said I got you some potato drop cookies from Mrs. Hahn next door. She said she baked too much… eat up before we go to the beach." Bucky takes a piece from the bag before shoving it towards Steve as the blond furrows his brows in more confusion.
Steve plops the bag onto the bed and scoots off of it again, shuffling towards his dresser nearby which has a stack of papers on top. "Which beach are we going to again?" He asks, rummaging through the sketch pads and individual drawings scattered on top. There must be a newspaper somewhere… and there it was, right underneath his aircraft figurine.
January 17, 1938.
Steve clasps the newspaper tight. This can't be. What the hell. He's in the year before the war even starts.
"Rockaway Beach, remember? We talked about it a week ago, buddy. We're meetin' my penpal Dot there and she's bringing a friend." Bucky had already sat down on the bed as he keeps on munching on the pastry when Steve swivels back to face him.
So, he went back in time. Kind of, that's what he thinks at least. Steve wonders if the tesseract had any effect on him before it disappeared, who the hell knows, but this for sure isn't real. He isn't supposed to be here. He gotta get out somehow.
"You know, if you don't feel well, just say so." Bucky continues, patting his hands together to clean the crumbs on them before swiping the rest of it off his button up, heaving himself upwards to head to the kitchen. With his mouth filled with cookies, Bucky grabs a glass of milk and downs it before speaking again. "Plus, I know you've got a decent amount of paintings to finish for Auburndale, and I understand that." He swirls the liquid inside the glass as if it was whiskey that he liked to drink by the fire escape in cold nights, claiming it warms him up enough to get to sleep. Bucky leans himself onto the frame that separates the kitchen and their small room, a worried expression plastered on his face.
Steve stares at Bucky for a moment. For one, it's because he's alive like this, as if he didn't get shot out of the HYDRA train a few months back in real time.
Steve doesn't know how all this works. As much as he wants to end this, seeing Bucky happy, non battered by the horrors of war, content in just eating cookies… he has to admit that he missed this too. So much. It just wasn't the same without Bucky.
"No, m'going with you..." Steve decides as he walks towards Bucky. He'll try to live this out until he figures out clues on how to escape.
Bucky looks at Steve weirdly, eyebrows knitted together with a light scrunch of his nose before he shrugs. "Alright… also! We're gonna go to Kiddie Park by the boardwalk. Don't worry 'bout the tickets, I got 'ya, and maybe–"
Before Bucky could continue, Steve reached for his face, cradling it with his hands ever so carefully, as if it were to break the moment he lets go. Steve feels how warm Bucky is and how he is very much real which kind of makes it more puzzling to him whether this is a product of his subconscious or not, or the tesseract.
"You know what, pinch me." Steve demands before slumping down his hands to his sides, his stare at Bucky unfaltering.
"And what, actually take a piece of flesh from your arm?" Bucky kids with such seriousness in his expression that earns him a punch on the shoulder from Steve. He snickered. "Fine, okay."
Bucky hesitates for a second before reaching for Steve's arm, pinching it.
Huh.
Nothing happens for Steve. He doesn't wake up or anything at all.
"Well? Happy now? God, you're acting so weird it gives me chills. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed when you took that nap? Jeez." Bucky turns and crosses his arms as he looked down to his blond friend.
Steve clenches his jaws and taps his foot impatiently for a moment. "...Okay. But later, remind me to not let you buy any hotdogs because if we spend all our train money and–"
As he pivots on his heels while ranting about the fact that they're going to use the rest of their money on hotdogs by the pavilion later and ride the freezer truck home, Steve hits himself on the other side of the door frame before Bucky could even yell "Hey, careful!"
Steve feels himself black-out and fall on the floor but once he hits the ground it doesn't feel like wood and there was definitely no creak; however there's a loud bang after another and another and another. Steve opens his eyes yet again and he sees the blue sky peeking from layers of smoke in the atmosphere, soldiers running and passing by, a string of commands being shouted at each other.
"Steve! Are you alright?" His vision still a bit hazy (but his color-blindness is cured again. He figures he's back as his super-soldier self), Steve squints at the person looming over him.
"Gabe?" Steve mutters, groaning as he turns to his right to pick up his shield before sitting up. "Where are we…?"
"Germany... Did you hit your head somewhere? You got a concussion or something?" Gabe looks at him with concern, gently helping him by supporting his back. How can Steve not know where they are? "I mean, you have a helmet on and you're Captain America but… tell me you're alright."
Germany, early 1944.
"I am." Steve stands up, admittedly still light-headed.
He's got it—maybe if he hits his head, it kinda flicks the switch of this illusion-like sequence. He's thinking he's reliving specific points in his past. It has only happened once but it makes sense, doesn't it? Now he's distracted, but he gotta remember what happened in Germany this very moment. He also gotta stay sharp and refrain from blacking-out again.
"Well, we gotta keep movin', Cap. Bucky and the lads are 500 meters north to the HYDRA base already. I told them to stop while I get you back with us but they didn't, said we're wasting time and all." Gabe explains as he jogs together with Steve, leading him to the location he just shared. Steve winces at the thought of Bucky still going forth without him.
He doesn't remember this. Something was changed from the moment he woke up there on the ground. He doesn't remember going down like that. Now whatever happens onwards is unknown to him and he has to pave the new path to the much needed victory no matter the situation is.
"Everyone hold your position," Steve's voice crackles through the intercom provided by Stark. Each of the Howlies halted, with them commanding their fellow soldiers to take cover first. Even with them scrambling behind something, the Nazis are still firing from their barracks, some even advancing since no one is stopping them now.
"Steve… you're back." Bucky responds softly, line choppy, and Steve couldn't help but find comfort at his best friend's voice. Bucky's tone changes though. "But what the hell are we doing? Falsworth's too far ahead with Morita, if Dum Dum and I don't–"
"I'm coming in from your eight, I see you and Dugan by the jeepney there. Don't move, I'm–"
"Captain!"
While Steve is giving orders to the device as they cross the battlefield, Gabe tackles him down, an ear-splitting boom echoing from the enemy lines to the soil where Steve stood on. A tank, the same one that had attacked the 107th the first time, the one that shoots out energy that turns anything into blue mist, something Steve is very familiar of.
As the two men roll on the ground, Steve's shield detaches from him and wobbles away, Gabe holding him by the torso protectively. Gabe scurries away and grabs his gun, shooting at the tank and the soldiers that march with it while Steve chases after his shield.
Steve's allies began striking back with Dugan's lead which is reasonable because if they don't they'll get vaporized one by one. Steve understands the change of plans, it's just that he didn't see it going this way. He was supposed to run to the tank by himself before it even got this close to them. They're too late in this one somehow.
The shield had gone far and when he thought he's close enough to reach, he hears a shriek of a whir from the tank meaning its reload as he turns to it, eyes wide. Will he die this time? Or will he wake up to another day like nothing happened?
"Steve, look out!" A voice—Bucky's, Steve distinguishes, comes in as the brunet runs towards him, flipping their positions so Bucky is situated in front as his temporary shield.
To be fair, it isn't really considered temporary given that Bucky has always been Steve's shield, schoolyard and battlefield. The spur of the moment is too fast and Steve is still recovering from the first blast and Bucky's there, holding him by the shoulder before he pushes Steve away and towards his vibranium shield, the tank firing to Bucky's direction.
Steve gets ahold of the shield. Everything suddenly seems fucking slow though—which he doesn't understand why . He feels like reality is crumbling on him and he can't do anything about it, making him angry because Bucky's life is in danger. He feels like he knows what's gonna happen next but he refuses to accept it nor think about it . That he can still make it right. On the other hand, Bucky's face isn't terrified and he's rather smiling. A sad one, yet reassuring Steve it's okay. Steve gets up and shoves himself forward as quick as this stupid dream will let him.
No, not again.
"I love you," Bucky mouths, a single tear falling. The way it dropped so slow and Steve could see it so clearly adds to the heartbreak. Bucky knew this was the time to say it after all those years. "Always."
Steve breathed out a whimper. Please , he's almost there, he can get to Bucky. He can get to Bucky.
No, Steve thinks harder, louder, no please. Please–
In a blink, things went back to normal. The energy blast hits Bucky and then he disappears. It was supposed to be Steve.
This made Steve pause, breath hitching, a hand still reaching for nothing but the bright cerulean haze. He's late.
With angry tears streaming down his masked face along with a heavy heart, Steve grunts and charges at the tank with his inhuman speed, leaping into the air as he targets the main armament of the vehicle. He's had enough of HYDRA taking lives, taking Bucky—and as he had promised before, he won't stop until all of them are dead. Every single one.
An explosion reverbs inside Steve's head until there isn't. He wakes up once again realizing he's crying. This time, a familiar ceiling greets him but it wasn't his apartment. The room is large and filled with imported ornaments from at least seven different countries and some renaissance paintings. Eddy Duchin, soft yet energetic, playing in the background possibly from another room. Let's Fall In Love from 1934, Steve recognizes.
Barnes residence, 1936.
"You're awake…" Bucky speaks from his right and Steve couldn't help but turn his head to where the voice is, sighing in relief as he breaks down into quiet sobs further. Steve puts his fists on his eyes as he covers his face. That one was a nightmare .
"Hey–Hey, you're alright. You're alright, pal. Good thing Becca found you lying in the back alley by the Johnson's grocery. Think she scared the guy away when he saw her. What were you doing? Were you mugged?"
Steve removes one hand from his face, peeking at Bucky. He's so young… he remembers this. They were 18. This was some time before his mom died. He had gone to the grocery store to pick up some celery and carrots his mom had asked him to buy for his dinner. She's staying overnight at the hospital tonight and he knew she was feeling sick this morning already. She insisted. With the influx of tuberculosis patients in the hospitals, soon Sarah won't be able to come home. Steve now realizes it probably started here.
"Steve?" Bucky talks again. "We called the family doctor earlier… he said you weren't badly hurt. You do have a bruise on your left cheek though. Answer me, were you mugged?"
It takes time for Steve to respond. He's taking this all in again—again—because this is another goddamn time "skip". He stares at Bucky and still tries to let the fact that he just lost him five seconds ago, right before his eyes, sink in. Steve nods. He was, he remembers. But that's not important right now. He pulls himself up and immediately slings a weak arm around Bucky, embracing him before starting to tear up again.
Bucky blinks and lifts a hand, gently patting Steve on the back comfortingly. He's confused, but he isn't exactly against the sudden touchiness of Steve.
"Steve...?" Bucky whispers, his chin resting on top of Steve's head, burying half of his face in his hair. Sliding his hand up to the back of the blond's head, he ruffles his hair gently.
Steve places his face into the crook of Bucky's neck. He holds him closer, gripping Bucky's shirt tight. "I don't wanna lose you," He says. "Ever again. I'm gonna make sure you're safe with all my power. I swear to god, Buck."
Bucky chuckles. Steve and what power, he asks himself. Bucky continues stroking Steve's hair. "Whoa there, cowboy. I don't know where you suddenly got that idea of losing me but you won't. Ever. You're stuck with me, remember?"
With a shaky breath, Steve pulls away. The fact that Bucky doesn't know what's ahead of him shatters Steve's heart. He wishes, he wishes that Bucky is truly stuck with him. He wishes Bucky won't go too far where he can't see him, where Steve can't protect him because Bucky has done it for him in so long Steve would beg the stars to let him be the one this time. Let him protect Bucky. Steve looks at Bucky in the eye with his red-rimmed eyes, sniffing as he wipes his face dry. Bucky starts to shift a little bit, feeling quite iffy with Steve staring at him like that. He doesn't break the eye contact though but slowly gulps, eyebrow twitching.
Steve suddenly remembers Bucky's "I love you" earlier. He wasn't sure where that came from but when Bucky said that all the years together with him flashed before his eyes, occurring to him that it was the first. Sure, maybe "take care" or "come on steve, you hafta eat to get energy, you know" or "Christ, Steve, stop fucking hurting yourself" count. But never did Bucky tell him those exact words. That day in Germany was the only. A twist of fate and death made Bucky say it. And when he did, something swirled inside Steve's chest. He thinks about it right now and it gives him the same feeling, the same goosebumps as seeing Bucky spare one last tear and smile before vanishing.
Mrs. Hahn had basically watched the two of them grow up being in the same neighborhood. He does remember some time after his mom's death and Steve's alone in his apartment for the day, she knocked on his door with blueberry pie in hand, wondering if Steve's friend was there to share it with him.
"Your friend truly loves you, Steven." She said. "You can interpret that however you want but he does. I hope you see that."
Steve knew and interpreted it damn well, or so he thought.
Maybe he was blinded by his own feelings; he had shut himself out of the possibility of something greater than this. He had thought that whatever he felt was wrong even though watching Dave and Jack in Wings made him ask himself if he wants to kiss Bucky too, maybe a lot, maybe all the time, even just at 12-years-old.
Maybe he had a crush, or he still does, or… just confused.
The blond furrows his brows and finally looks away, scooting from his position and a little bit away from Bucky. "If you had ten seconds to live, and you were with me, what would you tell me? Something that you've wanted to tell me for a long time."
Bucky was caught off guard, making him slump his back to the backrest of his chair by the bed. Steve could see Bucky's gears turning even through his peripheral, and he could also see the hint of red on Bucky's ears. It's a quirk Bucky has—he doesn't blush in his face quickly but his ears get cerise when embarrassed.
"What?"
"Just… answer it."
"I'll probably tell you to be careful, I don't know." Bucky scrunches his nose. He pauses. He leans towards Steve again, fiddling with his hands nervously.
Steve looks at him feeling his heart pound against his rib cage, grabbing two fistfuls of the blanket by his legs.
"Look. Please don't be mad at me," Bucky huffs out, burying his face in his hands. He stays in that position for a good 10 seconds. He mutters something in his breath along the lines of god, really, right now with gritted teeth.
"I'll uh… probably tell you that I love you... And that I've loved you for the longest time… but I don't think I've said it enough. Showed it enough. I mean–"
Suddenly, Steve tilts Bucky's head up with both hands, connecting their lips softly. Just like what he saw in Wings, what he envisioned, just slightly more accurate to the mouth. Bucky's lips felt different than Lorraine's or even Peggy's. Lorraine felt like ice cream in the hottest Brooklyn summer heat wave, sweet and anticipated. Peggy felt like the first drop in Coney Island's Cyclone which will get your head spinning and heart palpitating from the rush. Bucky? Bucky felt like… Bucky. He felt like home.
This is definitely not a crush, and something he definitely shouldn't hide nor ignore.
Bucky, with widened eyes, totally didn't expect this. What he expected was Steve storming off the house because of what he'd say. Steve throwing his clothes out of their shared apartment. Steve refusing to see him anymore. But he didn't, thank god. This is so much better. Bucky basically melts in Steve's hands, humming lowly before lifting a knee onto the bed as he climbs up.
Steve did experience more of these dream-like sequences. He jumps from one year to another, back and forth. Sometimes they repeat and this one where he had to relive the same thing four times straight. There's this one time where he managed to pull Bucky back in the train but he immediately and uncontrollably switches timelines. Steve figured that whether he hits his head or not, it's the tesseract's (still assuming it's a side-effect of being exposed to it, Steve doesn't know) will if he gets transported somewhere else. The only constant was that Bucky is there. The more jumps Steve makes the more he realizes how much he took Bucky for granted, with him being by his side every time like a guardian angel. Every jump, he makes it appoint to show Bucky that he's there for him too.
However, at the end of the day, dreams are dreams aren't they? No matter how much or how less he spends time with Bucky in each of these, it doesn't change the fact that these are possibly fabricated by the cosmic cube or by his subconscious. Maybe Bucky didn't like him back. Maybe his brain just came up with that to console himself. Maybe it's how he copes with Bucky's death and how when he wakes up this will be over. Steve knew he wanted to get out of this loop in the beginning but now he doesn't, god, he doesn't. It's hard when everything you've wanted is right here. Literally too good to be true.
But eventually he has to.
"So, are you ready for the Brooklyn Dodgers later?" Bucky grins at Steve before placing a peck on top of his head, sitting down beside him on the bed they shared.
May 25, 1941.
"Yeah," Steve says with a sigh of content. "Please don't tell me you're betting on the Phillies just to shit on me." He glares at Bucky playfully who gives him a nose scrunch.
"Maybe I am." Bucky answers as he stands up again, heading to the rack to take his coat. It's still quite chilly for Bucky. "But y'know Reiser will give Pearson a hell of a game today after last month. We never know, darling." He points a finger at Steve with an eyebrow raised.
Steve shakes his head fondly. "You talk like you haven't been a fan of the Dodgers since we were kids." He heaves himself up and strides towards Bucky, tiptoeing for a kiss.
After the smooch, Bucky rests his forehead against Steve's for a while. They share a quiet moment as if they're savoring every second, like it's their last. Steve refuses to think of that.
"If the Phillies wins you'd have to cook dinner for a week." Bucky breaks into a smile and detaches himself, with Steve huffing at the remark. "C'mon. Deal?"
"You hate cooking so much, don't you? Fine. As if they will." Steve retorts before shoo-ing Bucky. "Now, now pal. We'll meet at the Field, yeah? Tell the girls the snacks are on me today."
Bucky hangs his head backwards with an eye roll as he gets pushed out of the door, groaning. "Mhm, I will. Might take us some time though. Blame Shirley if we get there late. You know that li'l princess needs four hours to choose a goddamn dress. M'grateful Mary doesn't though. She and Becca aren't much of a pain in the ass."
Steve hums and says a string of uhuh's, "Like you don't spend half an hour doing your hair and pickin' which three-piece suit from England you'd wanna wear for a walk in the park."
"Shut up." Bucky laughs heartily, and Steve does too. He loves him. He loves him so much.
Bucky starts walking away to the hallway and stops just before he reaches the stairs. He twirls, faces Steve in such familiar manner that it sent shivers down Steve's spine. Bucky lifts a hand to his forehead, gesturing a small salute with a half-smile before jogging his way down.
Steve exhales a deep breath. Before he could close the door he pauses, brows creasing at the voice he's hearing.
Curve ball, high and outside for ball one. So the Dodgers are tied, 4-4. And the crowd well knows that with one swing of his bat, this fellow’s capable of making it a brand-new game again.
Steve turns around as he looks for the source. It's very faint. It's as if it's being whispered to him.
Just an absolutely gorgeous day here at Ebbets Field. The Phillies have managed to tie up at 4-4. But the Dodgers have three men on. Pearson beaned Reiser in Philadelphia last month. Wouldn’t the youngster like a hit here to return the favor?
Panic arises Steve's chest. He goes inside his apartment and searches. Did he leave the radio on? But the game hasn't started yet. Not right now. He knows this commentary. It's for later. But why is he hearing this now?
Pete leans in. Here’s the pitch. Swung on. A line to the right. And it gets past Rizzo. Three runs will score. Reiser heads to third. Durocher’s going to wave him in. Here comes the relay, but they won’t get him—
A man comes in just when Steve opens his eyes.
"Captain Rogers." He calls, both hands tucked inside his coat. An eye patch and an icy stare on the other. Steve doesn't respond just yet.
"Where am I? Who are you?" Steve asks, groggy yet alert. Though he's woken up, the feeling is different. He can distinguish that this isn't part of the dreams he had been having. Besides, the room is too modern for his mind to comprehend. He's wondering why they were playing an old baseball commentary though. "What… what happened?"
"Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD. You've been asleep, Cap. For seventy years." Fury walks over by the window, pulling the curtains open to reveal the ever so busy Time Square. "We've studied your brain activity for years. The fact that it was active the entire time you were frozen … that was something. Though your other organs were slowed down by cryostasis, your brain was working great."
Steve stands up carefully, gaze on the big advertisements and colorful screens, technology he never thought he'd witness, overwhelmed. He paces to the window and places a hand on the glass while he observes.
"Where are we going?"
"To the future."
Bucky would have loved to see this.
Steve's expression changes into something glum, something Fury had caught on. "...You gonna be okay?" Fury queries.
The Dodgers take the lead, 8-4. Oh, Dodgers! Everyone is on their feet. What a game we have here today, folks. What a game indeed.
Steve looks down to the streets as his hand slowly slides down the glass. This is the day he was both looking forward to and afraid of.
"Yeah," He says quietly, "Yeah." With a short pause, Steve turns his head to Fury.
"It's just… I had a date."