Prologue & One
-Prologue-
“I can’t be a cop anymore,” Bucky told his partner, keeping his eyes locked firmly on the stain directly over his hospital bed. It looked like a moose, he thought. He grabbed his left sleeve with his right hand and pulled his arm further across his body. His left arm slid across his body like the deadweight it had become. “The Commissioner came himself to tell me.” As though that would somehow soften the blow.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve nod. “I’m sorry, Buck.” His words were stiff like he was trying not to say something he shouldn’t. He had known before he’d come in that Bucky was losing his shield because of the injury. “IAB is looking into Rollins and Rumlow.”
Bucky shrugged – or tried to, and was frustrated to discover that even that was too much for the useless limb on his left side. “They’ll get cleared like they have the last two times.” Even if they didn’t, Bucky’d still be out of a job.
He looked over at Steve, his partner of the previous 3 years, taking in the yellowing bruises on the man’s face and neck. He wanted to be pissed. Bucky was going to be an invalid for the rest of his life, and Steve had some ugly bruising. He felt grateful, though. Grateful that Steve had survived mostly untouched. He was a good man, one of the best men Bucky had ever met, and he didn’t deserve to be hurt just because Bucky had lousy luck.
He wished they hadn’t brought him back after he’d died on the table.
“They put your official portrait in the paper.” The corner of Steve’s mouth ticked upwards. He knew how much Bucky hated that photograph of him. He looked like a pillock. “You rated first page, above the fold. I didn’t think you’d want to read the article, so I didn’t save it.”
He groaned, closing his eyes again. Steve was trying to cheer him up, he knew that. It was only making him feel worse though. Eight years as an officer in the NYPD and the only thing people would know about him was that he got himself shot. He should have known something was wrong. “The fuck am I gonna do, Rogers?”
Steve took a deep breath. He probably hadn’t expected Bucky to be awake when he had come to visit. Seven days had passed after the shooting with no signs Bucky would wake up, it was just Steve’s bad luck he’d come around. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t afford my rent on disability, I’ve got a fucking Associate’s degree in forestry.” The men in his family had been police officers in New York since his great-grandfather had come to the United States from Russia. His father was going to be so fucking disappointed. “What the fuck am I going to do?”
Steve reached out to take Bucky’s right hand, squeezing it tightly. “We’ve always talked about getting out of New York.” Steve’s words were careful, his voice low. “Apply to colleges. Go anywhere, and I’ll follow.”
Bucky frowned and opened his eyes so he could look at Steve. He expected to see mirth on Steve’s face. Surely Steve would leave him when he wasn’t a cop anymore. The basis of their relationship was that they rode in the same unit together. Regardless of what they'd talked about in the car.
There was no humor on Steve’s face though. He was staring at Bucky, completely serious about every word he said. “I’ll go anywhere you go, Buck.” If Bucky didn’t know him, he would be sure Steve was afraid. Afraid of what Bucky would say in response.
“Do you mean that?” He asked, tearing his gaze away from Steve so he could stare at their linked hands. A drunken night was one thing, but it sounded like Steve was asking for a whole lot more than a few hours. Steve had been the one to make the decision that they couldn’t be more than a few hours.
Steve leaned in and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “I thought I lost you. You went down, and you didn’t get back up, and there’s shit I didn’t say to you.” He tightened his grip, his voice coming out strangled, “I’m not letting you get away this time.”
“Steve…”
“James.” Steve sat back in his chair, “I know I fucked up before when I said I didn’t want more. I did then, and I do now. If you’ll have me, then I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Bucky tugged his hand free from Steve’s, not sure he was willing to take the risk. If Steve was telling the truth, then he’d just had a scare, and it was never a good idea to make a life decision after going through emotional trauma. For all, he knew Steve would take it all back once he recovered from the shootout. Bucky didn't want to have that rug pulled out from under him.
“Take your time. I’ll wait.”
Bucky nodded and slid his hand under the blankets, so Steve couldn’t try to retake it. He didn’t know what he wanted. “That article-” he started, not sure he wanted to know the answer to what he wanted to ask, “did it, uh, did it say why-”
“Why Rumlow and Rollins didn’t come to our aid?” Steve offered his hands back in his own lap. “It mentioned they were under investigation for purposefully refusing to assist another officer. It didn’t say that you’re gay though.”
Small favors, he thought.
“I spoke to your dad.” Bucky looked back at Steve. Steve had never gotten on with Detective Barnes. “He asked if it was because of that. I told him I thought so, but IAB would decide.”
“What did George have to say about that?” He asked, hoping Steve would be willing to ignore the way his voice cracked. It had always been a point of contention between Bucky and his father, and he was sure George would be a smug bastard about it.
Steve leaned back in his seat. “He was pissed they didn’t report exactly what they did. Said he’d make sure everyone knew.”
That sounded nothing like George Barnes. His father had always pretended there was nothing different about his son. Bucky didn’t bring boyfriends home, and George didn’t ask about his personal life. They talked about collars. It had worked for them. “He what?”
“He’s been telling everyone who’ll listen that this happened because of homophobic cops.” Steve must have noticed the disbelief on Bucky’s face, “you almost died, pal. That changes things.”
Bucky frowned. “Have they told him I can’t be a cop anymore?” He figured that would change his father’s tone. Regardless of how close he had come to death.
“I’m sure he’s guessed if he hasn’t been told.” Steve didn’t seem to understand why Bucky was upset. Bucky knew what his relationship with his father was though, and he knew it was based solely on the fact that Bucky had become a cop. “He’s been here every day.”
-One-
Bucky groaned and rolled onto his right side when he felt the bed dip next to him. As always, Steve smelled like Irish Spring and was damp to the touch when he crawled into bed. He never dried himself off well before getting into their bed. He said it took too much work and he was too tired. Bucky just made sure the sheets were changed regularly. “Good patrol, baby?” He asked when Steve’s arm slid over his waist.
Steve mumbled incoherently as his fingers slipped under the waistband of Bucky’s boxer briefs. It never went further than that when Steve was fresh off work, and Bucky hadn’t been able to break him of the habit. “Fuckin Sam got to drive.” Sam Wilson drove like a bat out of hell if Steve was to be believed. But Bucky had been Steve’s passenger for three years and suspected that Sam drove slightly above the speed limit and sometimes made hard stops. Steve was just a stickler for the rules and got stressed when anyone committed minor traffic violations.
Bucky had driven like he was on the Fury Road and thus had only been given the keys one time in the duration of their partnership. Later Steve had told him that he’d considered asking for a different partner after that particular excursion. He hadn’t felt comfortable driving after his injury, but everywhere he needed to go could be reached by bus if Steve couldn’t take him.
“’t’s good for you to give up control. Can’t always be in charge.” His voice was slurred, still thick with sleep. He always woke up when Steve came home, regardless of how quiet the man was when he came in. Some subconscious part of him probably wanted to make sure his partner had arrived home safely. That part of him would have appreciated Steve and Sam getting transferred to day shift though. Steve was low man on the totem pole though, and Sam liked night shift. Steve said he preferred it after his partner had been killed on patrol. Bucky wanted to spend more time with his boyfriend though.
“How was your lab today?” Steve asked, his body already going lax. He usually fell asleep within five minutes of climbing under the blankets. It was sweet that he tried to talk about Bucky’s day, even though they were both struggling to stay awake. Bucky appreciated the care. He didn’t imagine many people were so lucky.
Bucky hummed. “Sharon was a cunt about my range of motion as usual.” She was just pissed that he made higher marks than she did. His instructors had told him his disability was not a disqualifying factor. The only thing he couldn’t do, at least that he had been made aware, was lifting patients. If his arm didn’t improve, they had told him it would make it difficult to find a job, but not impossible.
He and Steve had put a great deal of thought into whether Bucky should go to nursing school.
“Sharon’s just jealous that you get better grades on everything.” Steve’s best skill as a boyfriend was being supportive. "Don't worry about her."
Bucky nodded, his cheek moving against Steve’s damp chest. He gripped at Steve's waist with his left hand. "I don't got any classes today."
"And I don't have a patrol tonight." Steve tightened his grip on Bucky, pulling him closer. "I made brunch reservations."
"Fuckin love brunch..."