Fragile Hearts

Steve huffed out a breath as he ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it back the best he could. He was already late to meet Sam for drinks, the setting of the sun told him that much. As the light set a warm mood, the weather beginning to get warmer out once more after the long winter, it was nice enough for Steve to settle on wearing his leather jacket than his coat. It was also nice enough for him to ride his motorcycle to the bar a few blocks from his place. Seeing as he didn't see himself drinking enough to require a cab.

Strolling up to the door and letting himself in to the dimly lit, but overall comfortable bar, it didn't take much more than a glance to notice Sam at their regular spot. Waving back when Sam sees him, he starts to head over, already expecting him to gloat since he was late. Holding his hands up in surrender as he approached the table, he sighed as he took his seat. “I know, I know. I'm late.”

“Hell yeah you are. For once. No way are you getting out of this one.” Sam chuckled sliding him one of the two beers he had in front of him. Toasting to him as a sign of forgiveness, he took a sip before diving into to rant about work that day.

Sam and Steve were both nurses at Shield Medical Center. Have been for over three years. Whenever they could get together outside the hospital, they did. Despite already spending so much time together, they’ve been best friends for as long as they could remember. They’ve been through thick and thin together.

However, that also comes with more than you might think.

Ever since they started at Shield, Steve and Sam have been paired together, everyone knew their friendship was unshakeable. So, when Sam started seeing Maria Hill from cardiology just less than over a year ago, everyone thought it would change their dynamic. It didn’t. Maria knew how important their friendship was and wasn’t going to interfere with that. In fact, she and Steve got along pretty well. He was glad she made Sam happy. They seemed to complete each other.

No, that wasn’t an issue. What they went through on a daily basis, the bad, the good, the ugly, the heartbreak. Despite it being a hard job, it was also a rewarding one. No that wasn’t an issue either. What was an issue was- “Look, all I’m saying is, it wouldn’t hurt to put yourself back out there.” And there it was.

Sighing, Steve rubbed at his temples as he closed his eyes. He knew Sam meant well. He did. But… it wasn’t that simple. “Sam, please… Not tonight.” He knew what Sam was hinting at. Finally moving on after all these years. Moving on past James Buchanan Barnes, the one person who stole his heart and didn’t return it when he walked out on him in college without any explanation after being together for the past seven years.

He was such a big part of his life, it hurt to remember it, every time Sam mentioned something about moving on, it just reignited those thoughts.

Knowing Sam was watching him, taking the moment to think about it, he does eventually drop it and move on. To the gala the hospital is hosting this coming weekend, to which Sam knew Steve wasn’t attending, and offered for him and Maria to stay home with him for a movie marathon. Anything his nerdy heart desired.

While it wasn’t a complete switch from topics, Steve let out another sigh, planting his hands on the table and looking up at Sam. “Sam, listen. If I promise to go to this Gala, promise to try and find a date, or at least mingle. Will you drop this? Please?” This promise, it was all Steve could offer at this point. To try. For one night. Watching Sam think it over and nod his agreement. He relaxed back in his seat and continued chatting with Sam for the next few hours. This promise lingering on the forefront of his mind.

Standing to leave with Sam, paying their tab and heading out the door, he pulled Sam in for a hug and waved as he watched him head off down the street. Lowering his arm and waiting until he was out of sight, the pale moonlight the only thing keeping him company, Steve rubbed at his forehead and shook his head. “God, Rogers, what have you gotten yourself into…” Leaving it at that, he headed back to his motorcycle, before heading back to his apartment. Only slightly dreading making that promise to Sam. Knowing he only had two days to prepare for the Gala and what it entailed.

--

James Buchanan Barnes.

The name card on the table was basically yelling at him. Enough to the point he wanted to wince. Feeling a comforting hand on his shoulder provide a squeeze, he glanced to the redhead at his side. “Thanks, Nat.” Earning a slight tug of her lips, she nods and goes to take her seat beside his. Taking a deep breath, he internally cringed at the scrape of his chair as he pulled it back and took his seat.

Honestly, Bucky didn’t even know what he was doing here. He knew Natasha was here because of her job, having just been transferred to Shield Medical Center from her old job as a Neurosurgeon for reasons not even Bucky knew. Hell, they had been roommates for the longest time and there was no way in hell he was going to leave her, or let her leave him.

Sighing as he fidgeted with his tux, pulling his left sleeve down lower, but in actuality it did nothing to help, he clenched his fists in his lap, already feeling the panic build in his chest. Feeling as if the whole room was watching him, picking him out of the crowd, it didn’t help. However, feeling Natasha reach out under the table and take a hold of his left hand, giving it a squeeze and not letting go, despite maintaining her conversation with other doctors at the table.

Well, it helped.

A little.

Taking a few moments, closing his eyes and counting silently as he inhaled and exhaled, he eventually calmed down enough to at least look up and at the other people at the table. Seeing a couple sitting next to Nat, he glanced over their place cards and keeping note of them.

Sam Wilson and Maria Hill.

Watching as Natasha and Maria chatted among themselves, he stole a glance at Sam Wilson to find him staring at his phone, huffing a silent laugh with an eye roll as he started to text someone back. Taking the moment to notice the empty seat next to Sam, opposite of Bucky, he wondered if that’s who he could be texting. With the centerpieces in the way, candles circled around small bouquets of flowers, he couldn’t see the name of who it could be. However, there is another vacant seat next to that one who’s placard says: Sharon Carter.

Squeezing Natasha’s hand back, his eyes wandered around the vast room, looking over the tables, the people gathered at them. Spotting the exits he was looking for just in case he felt it necessary to flee. Hell, he warned Natasha he might make a bolt for it before they arrived. Not seeming deterred by it, she simply shrugged, said that’d be okay, and led them in. Remaining silent, having had the decency to provide a brief nod to both Sam and Maria at least once, he waited until the main speaker had stepped up to the podium to release the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Feeling some tension seep from his bones as everyone seemed to focus on the speaker as he began his spiel of thanking everyone for coming and digging into his speech.

A speech, Bucky zones out to. In fact, it isn’t until it’s over and Natasha is placing a hand on his shoulder that he realizes that dinner has been served. Watching worry pool in her eyes, he provides a slight upturn of his lips before he nods. Watching him for another moment, she turns back to Maria and Sam, joining back in on the conversation. “So where is he?” Natasha asks as Bucky begins to pick at his food. Not exactly having the stomach to eat anything.

“Oh, he’s such a bleeding heart, volunteered to take a shift with Sharon before they head over here.” Sam grumbles, although its lightheartedly. Rolling her eyes, Maria checks her watch before commenting on the time. “In fact, they should be here any minute.”

Not knowing who ‘he’ is, Bucky can only assume it’s whoever is suppose to sit next to Sam. And whoever he and this Sharon Carter are, are going to show up. And soon.

Clenching his left hand, keeping it under the table, he continued to pick at his plate before stomaching a few bites. Huffing out a breath, he was already wanting to leave. Hell, he was surprised he was still here. Debating whether he should go or not, his thoughts were interrupted as Sam was pointing towards the entrance to the ballroom.

Flinching at the clink of his silverware hitting his plate, he turns around in his seat, a scoff escaping past his lips as he looks around the room. Looking for whomever Sam was pointing towards.

That's when he sees him.

Sucking in his breath, clenching his hand on the back of his chair, he folds his lips in. He can't believe his eyes. It can't be, not after all this time.

The last time he saw Steven Grant Rogers was in college. And God did he mean the world to him. But after all this time, after what's happened, he can't. He can't do this.

Not only that, but he was here with someone. Who he could only assume was Sharon Carter. And they looked perfect together. Steve done up in a tux that fit him perfectly, while Sharon was in a stunning dark blue, strapless dress.

“Bucky?” His name barely registering, feeling a hand on his back, he knew it was Natasha. He can't do this. He can't.

Sucking in a breath, he turned almost too abruptly and earned the kind stares of Natasha, Maria, and Sam. Mouth agape, but no words coming out, he shakes his head and stands up, his chair hissing at him as it scraped the floor. “I- I’m sorry, I can't, I…” a blush filling his cheeks and running all the way to the tips of his ears, he shares a glance with Nat before bolting.

“Bucky!” She calls after him, but by then it's too late, he's already heading for the nearest exit and slamming it open. Avoiding Steve. Avoiding… the past.

A shiver running through him as he makes out into the brisk night air, gulping in fresh breaths, he grips the guard rail in front of him, enough to dig into his skin and ground him. Pulling his left hand close to his chest, he struggles to steady his breathing, the flush to his cheeks burning only more at the embarrassment of what had just happened replayed in his head.

“Goddammit.” he grits out as tears burn in his eyes. He never wanted to see Steve again, he never wanted to see the hurt and disappointment in his eyes, the brokenness of his voice, to have to know he broke his heart. He never thought he would have to explain anything.

--

Steve took in a breath as he and Sharon walked into the ballroom. He was never great with crowds. But feeling the comforting squeeze Sharon was giving his arm, he flashed her a grateful smile. Finding the courage he needed, he led Sharon to their table, catching the moment one of the members was fleeing from the table.

Concern forming in his eyes as they reached the table, he first turned to Sam and Maria for answers. Seeing them share a glance with the redhead seated at the table, he looked to her and waited for some sort of explanation. “He’s okay. He just, doesn't do well in crowds.” She says nonchalant, even going as far as to add a shrug. Nodding as Sharon takes her seat, a light frown still on her face, Steve remains standing. “Well, should someone go check on…” going to read the place card with his name, only to find it missing.

“Give him some time, I'll go check on James in a little bit.” she says, almost coldly, as he eventually takes his seat. “Alright then.” he affirms with a nod and turns to Sam and Maria, who seem content in not sharing with him what had just happened.

Well, he's been through weirder situations. He could handle this just as well.

In fact, he made it through the rest of the evening just fine. The redhead, Natasha, had went and checked on James, said he wasn’t feeling well and excused themselves early, but not before promising to let Maria or Sharon know how they were doing later. Exchanging pleasantries with her, he watched her go before enjoying the rest of the evening with his best friends. A night that wasn’t too bad, and ended with him dropping Sharon off at home before heading home himself.

All in all though, it wasn’t a bad night.

--

It was terrible night. God, Bucky hated himself sometimes.

Not only had he unintentionally made Nat leave early, though she had reassured him he hadn’t forced her to do anything she didn’t want to. He had panicked at the sight of Steve. His college and high school sweetheart. Who had been there… with a date. Who was going to work where Nat did. Why did life hate him? What did he ever do?

He had broken the heart of an angel, that’s what he had done.

“Nat…” Bucky groaned behind his hands, holding his head in his hands as he sat on their couch, tears still burning in his eyes. Kicking her heels off, she joins him on the couch, pulling her knees up underneath her, before reaching out and pulling Bucky to lean against her. Running her fingers through his hair, she shushes him, knowing all too well how Bucky tends to panic.

“Sweetheart, he wasn’t there with a date. Sharon told me they were just friends. They all work together and they just decided to go as each other’s plus one.” Natasha was quick to soothe. She always just knew what to say and how to act. She was a god send. Still, that didn’t stop him from crumpling against her, those tears falling down his cheeks, the guilt hardening in his stomach.

Bucky had told her everything. Hell, she was his best friend. She knew just how much he had loved Steve, no, still loves Steve. The truth of what had happened when they had split up, how it had happened. On more than one occasion, she had encouraged him to reach out, but hadn’t pushed. Knowing just how much it hurt Bucky inside.

“But, Nat… it’s been too long… hell, what if he doesn’t even want to see me anymore? What’m I gonna do?” The way his voice breaks, it even hurts Natasha. God she’s been on this end of this conversation more than once. But of course, it’s never been a possibility. Not until now.

“I don’t know honey, that’s up to you, but trust me, I highly doubt he doesn’t want to see you. He’d be crazy not to.” It’s the last piece of advice she offers, they both remain silent as she continues to run her hands through his hair, offering comfort in the ways she can, while he silently lets out the emotional release he’s needed to all night.

Eventually, Bucky falls asleep on their couch, his head in Natasha’s lap, waiting to make sure he stays asleep, she gently removes herself from underneath him and replaces her lap with a pillow for him. Grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch, she tosses it over him before brushing hair out of his face, watching his face scrunch up as she does, but remains asleep. Turning on the lamp next to the couch, she presses a light kiss to his hair before heading down the hall to her room, sighing as she goes. “Oh, James, what are we going to do with you.”

--

Sunlight trickled in through the window, the curtains not having been shut all the way. Enough so that it hit Bucky square in the face and roused from sleep. Groaning softly, he rolls further into the couch, trying to chase after sleep, but utterly failing. Sighing as he sits up, stretching his arms up until hearing a satisfying pop, he takes a moment to notice how quiet the apartment is.

Rising to his feet, hugging the blanket around his shoulders as if a child, he glances down the hall to see that Natasha’s door is closed, with no sound coming from behind it. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he heads towards the kitchen instead, finding a note on the fridge for him.

James,

Don’t forget to shower and eat something before taking your medication. I’ll meet you at 3:25 PM for your physical therapy, if you’d like, just text me. Take a deep breath. We’ll talk tonight.

Love, Natasha

Glancing over the note several times, absently rubbing at his left shoulder as he does, he puts the note down on the counter before fixing himself a cup of coffee. Not in the mood for much, he settles on toast and downs two cups before heading off to shower. It was already a quarter past eleven anyways.

Changing out of his suit, hanging it up and grabbing a pair of sweats, he heads off to shower and shave. Letting the bathroom steam up, trying to wash away what happened last night. Remaining in the shower until the hot water was gone, he towels off and slips the sweats on before opening the medicine cabinet and finding another note from Nat.

James,

Don’t skip out on your appointment today. I’ll kick your ass if you do.

Love, Natasha

A small grin pulling up on his lips, he rolls his eyes as he pops the pills in his mouth before swallowing them down with some water. Finishing getting ready, he eventually heads out at half past one, heading off towards the hospital. Hoping not to run into Steve by any means today.

--

Steve let out a soft groan as he plopped into the chair behind the nurse’s station. Rubbing his face and hoping to have just one moment of peace. He’s been on his feet for nearly seven hours already, ranging from patients being too stubborn to do something to interns being incompetent while thinking they knew more than him.

“That bad?” Looking up at Sam as the question is asked, he lets out a humorless chuckle as he shakes his head.

“Nah, but not the easiest shift either.” Getting a shrug in return he leans back in his chair and closes his eyes for one moment. Just one. Before letting out another groan before pulling forward to the desk and starting on the endless piles of paperwork.

Taking one glance at the clock, he saw that it was nearly twenty past three. Humming to himself, he focuses back on the files in front of him, zoning back into his work, only to be distracted as someone clears their throat to get Sam’s attention.

“Hey man, how can I help you?” Hearing the familiarity Sam was using in his voice, it was clearly more of a friend stopping by rather than someone needing help. The soft, almost nervous chuckle Sam gets in return has Steve pausing in his work. God, he knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop. But something… something seems to have caught his attention.

“Um, I’m actually here for an appointment? With a, uh… shit, hang on.” That voice, sounds awfully familiar. Taking a glance down at the other end of the nurse’s station, he notices Sam and the figure on the other side. A hood covering a good half of his face, as he scrolls through his phone, looking for the right name of who he’s suppose to be seeing.

Where has he heard that voice before?

“Sorry, with a Dr. Strange? Um… Natasha… she said that if she wasn’t busy, she’d… be here?” The shyness and anxiety was clearly there. The way he kept fiddling with his sleeves, biting his lip, the nervous laugh once more. However, none of it seemed to phase Sam as he nodded and turned to the monitor, typing out something before turning back to him. “No worries James, if you could just take a seat over there, Dr. Strange should come to get you in a few minutes, and if you’d like, I could page Dr. Romanoff.”

Sam was always the charmer. Maybe it was just the overwhelming sense of ease he possessed, or maybe it was the tooth gapped smile, but the way he was handling this James, it clearly seemed to put him at ease, even if just a little bit. “That’d be great, thank you.” Smiling back, even if it is small, he heads to take a seat and wait, still pulling his sleeve over his left hand completely, as if it seemed to calm him.

Still, Steve couldn’t place the voice, despite it resonating within him. Trying not to stare at the patient waiting, although probably failing, he doesn’t do anything more than try to focus on his paperwork in front of him. Somewhat succeeding, he doesn’t look back up, not even when Dr. Romanoff comes down the hall and greats James with a smile and giving him a hug. Chatting with him kindly. No, he doesn’t even look up when Dr. Strange enters the lobby.

Not, at least, until he says the missing piece to where he knows the voice.

“Mr. Barnes?”

Ice going through his veins, he drops the pen that was in his hand. Taking a glance over to where they were sitting, watching the two of them rise and greet Dr. Strange. Not being able to hear anything as it hits him hard. Bucky? No, it can’t be.

Waiting until they follow Dr. Strange down the hall, he turns to Sam, but says nothing. What’s he supposed to say? That’s the man that broke his heart all those years ago? Of course Sam knew about Bucky, but when they had dated, Sam had joined the Army and had gone to medical school through them. They went to different high schools, but had been best friends because of their mothers. Hell, when Steve thinks about it, he doesn’t think Sam had seen Bucky in more than just pictures, and not too many at that. No wonder he wouldn’t have recognized him.

Noticing Steve was trying to say something, Sam turned towards him, giving a moment, he cocked an eyebrow, concern showing in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” Not knowing how to answer, Steve took in a deep breath and shook his head, “Nothing, I’ll tell you later.” It wasn’t a lie, he would, but he had more important matters to focus on while he’s at work.

It doesn’t matter that the love of his life just happened to walk in and not notice him. Hell, if he did, he probably just ignored him. And Steve doesn’t know which would hurt worse.

--

Bucky didn't know what was wrong with him. He used to thrive in being the center of attention, to talk to anyone and everyone. But not anymore.

Sitting on the stool, watching Nat talk with Dr. Strange, Stephen he thought he heard him say. Sighing as he cradled his left arm close to him, he tried to make himself smaller. Not truly wanting to be here in the first place.

Glancing up as Dr. Strange nods to Nat before approaching him, a kind smile on his face, Bucky tries to reciprocate it, but he knows it doesn't reach his eyes.

“Alright James, how are you feeling today?” the question is simple enough, and he does nothing more than pull up another chair opposite Bucky and sit himself down, clearly willing to take things slow.

Sharing a glance with Nat, finding reassurance, he let out a soft breath before shrugging and answering. “Fine, a little pain, but… Oh, and you can call me Bucky.” answering as honestly as he could, he bit his lower lip, waiting to see what Dr. Strange would do.

Nodding, he provided a comforting smile as he took in Bucky’s response. “Bucky, then. How about we see if we can't help alleviate that pain?” Of course, this part was always up to Bucky. Whether he would accept the help or not.

Worrying his lip between his teeth, debating on getting help or just leaving, he feels Natasha place a hand at the small of his back. A grounding force more than anything else.

Taking in a deep breath, he removed the hoodie he was wearing, shivering lightly as the air hit his skin. The tank top he threw on underneath was still there though. But it did nothing to interfere with his left arm. Where metal met flesh.

Dropping his hoodie to his floor, hugging his arm to himself, as if trying to hide it, he did nothing else as Dr. Strange waited patiently. “Bucky, it's nothing to be ashamed of. If you're in pain, you need to let us help.”

Eyes narrowing, watching Dr. Strange, he goes on to snap at him, but clenches his jaw shut as he holds up a hand. “I can only assume how hard this is for you. You're scared, Bucky. Vulnerable. But all I'm trying to do, is help.”

Letting those words sink in, still fuming at the idea of being vulnerable, he nods anyway. Just once. But that's all Dr. Strange seems to need as he wheels the chair behind Bucky’s and starts examining his shoulder.

Closing his eyes, not wanting to even be here, he focuses on his breathing. Wincing every now and then as Dr. Strange begins to try to find the root of his pain.

Trying to force out the images that play in his head, counting under his breath, he eventually hisses and jumps away as Dr. Strange starts putting pressure along his shoulder. “Ah, I see,” is all Bucky gets before he turns to confer with Natasha.

Watching them talking about him like he wasn't even there, he glared at them with a pout. A literal pout. He eventually earns their attention. “Bucky, have your past doctors told you your pain comes from the irritation caused by your arm?” taking a moment to let that sink in, he glances to where flesh and metal meet. Yeah, he'd been told that, what else was new?

Looking back at Dr. Strange, he simply shrugs with a nod, waiting for something he didn't know. “Okay, but have they told you it can be fixed?” A frown settling on his face, Bucky didn't believe a word he was hearing. He's been through several doctors in the past, and none of them had made a lick of difference.

Sensing Bucky’s disbelief, he was greeted with a kind smile and a nod of his head. “That's okay, we can talk more about long term solutions next time we meet. I'll have a talk with our top prosthetist and figure out how to go about this.”

Bucky still couldn't believe his ears. He's been dealing with the slight ache in his shoulder for years, he's grown use to it. But if there was a way to get rid of it. Well, he wouldn't stop them from trying.

Remaining speechless, Dr. Strange doesn't seem to take any offense and waits for Bucky to consent before going back to his arm. Massaging his fingers into sore tissue, igniting a fire in Bucky’s veins before it disappears completely.

Tears rushing to his eyes, falling down his cheeks before he even has a chance to stop them, he sucks in a deep breath. “Wh-... what did you do?” the pain that's plagued him for so long, was no longer there. God, when had he grown so accustomed to the pain?

“It'll only be temporary until we find a long term solution. Bucky, your body’s been under so much stress. If it would be okay with you, I'd like to see you at least twice a week until we fix this. You don't have to suffer anymore.” Before he was even finished, Bucky was nodding. He wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

Not from the physical pain at least.

--

Steve couldn’t fathom why, after all these years, Bucky was now walking back into his life. Well, not exactly. He doubted he even knew Steve worked at the same hospital his friend, Dr. Romanoff worked at. Hell, if he had known he was the James at the gala the other night. Honestly, he couldn’t even finish that thought. He doesn’t know what he would have done.

It’s been eating at him the last few days, he hasn’t even told Sam. Not everything at least.

He had told him about James being from his past, but not that it was Bucky. And he would tell him, eventually. Just, not now. Not as he was pulling up to the bar he and Sam always met at. The one night a week they get together, and tonight, they weren’t alone. Both Maria and Sharon had been able to switch shifts and were joining them as well. Which was fine by Steve. The more the merrier.

Heading in and towards their table, he noticed that he was the first one there. Hah. Tell that to Sam. He wasn’t usually late, unlike last week. Sliding into the booth, he checked the time on his phone and noticed a text from Sam saying he and Maria were on their way. Responding to him before sliding his phone back into his pocket, he looked up in time to see Sharon walk into the bar. Smiling and waving her over.

“Sam and Maria should be on their way.” Watching as Sharon took a seat, a kind smile on her face, she nods. “Yeah, Maria let me know.” Nodding Steve settles on that. Striking up small talk with Sharon was easy until Sam and Maria arrived next. That was to be expected.

What wasn't, however, was the fact two more figures walked through the doors after them. Natasha Romanoff, despite haven't working with her, he knew that eventually they could become friends. But behind her, smiling shyly and gluing himself to her, was none other than James Buchanan Barnes.

--

Settling into the couch, skimming through the book he was reading, more nodding off than retaining anything, Bucky couldn't imagine a more perfect evening.

Well, he could, but napping on the couch sounded just fine to him.

Besides, with the sun setting outside, the warm light filtering in through the windows, he knew it was only about time before Nat should be home.

In fact, by the time Natasha was walking in through the front door, Bucky was already dozing off on the couch.

Hell, by the time Natasha had dropped her keys in their key bowl and had gone off to do who knows what else, Bucky was almost completely out. Book long forgotten as it laid open on his chest.

Well, he was almost asleep, until Natasha plopped down on top of him, throwing a pillow at his face in the process. “Wake up, we’re going out.”

Groaning into the pillow, Bucky peeks out from under it to frown at her. “Where exactly?” the slight frown to his pout dispersed with the razor sharp look Natasha threw his way.

“Out." She states, giving him a look. "And lighten up, making friends will be good. If anything it'll get your lazy ass out of the apartment.” Patting his cheek before rising to her feet, she heads down the hall to her room, ignoring any other protest Bucky may have. “Be ready in 20!” she calls before shutting her door to get ready, and on the conversation.

Letting out groan, he rolls up onto his feet. Placing his book on the coffee table, he heads off to his room to change out of his sweats. Even if he doesn't want to tag along with Natasha, he might as well look presentable.

Taking his time to get ready, examining himself in the bathroom mirror after having changed into skinny jeans and a gray v-neck, he lets out a soft sigh. Smoothing his hair back, he heads out to find Natasha waiting for him on the couch.

Glancing up from her phone, she sends a slight grin his way as she stands. “Ready?”

“Are you gonna tell me where we’re goin’?” receiving a shake of her head as his answer, he shrugs his shoulders in response. “I guess so, then.”

Slipping his shoes on, grabbing his leather jacket as he follows Natasha out the door, he lets out a soft sigh as they head off to wherever she's taking them. Throwing his jacket on, a shiver running down his spine as they head out into the frigid, night air, he can only imagine how much fun tonight will be.

Pulling gloves out of his pockets and slipping them on, he throws a pout Natasha’s way, hoping to gain some sort of pity from her. “Stop that. It's not that bad, and it's not that far. It'll be fun.” Once again, not earning so much as a clear answer as to where they're going, he huffs out a sigh and shoves his hands in his pockets.

If there’s one thing Bucky hates, it's the cold. How unforgiving it is.

Hunkering down further into his jacket, blocking out the wind as much as possible, he steps closer to Natasha as they walk. Instinctively she loops their arms, rubbing his reassuringly as they continue on down the street, for a few more blocks.

All before they come to a stop, Bucky blindly bumping into Natasha before focusing back on her and where they are. Glancing towards where they've arrived, Bucky wrinkles his nose as he switches his gaze to Natasha. “A bar? Really? You dragged me out of the house for drinks?” Earning a shush in response, his rolls his eyes and shrugs, motioning for her to lead the way as she opens the door and they head inside.

However the moment he's inside, warmth seeping back into his bones, Bucky doesn't mind as much that Natasha brought him along.

The quaint little bar had enough of a homey feeling to settle Bucky’s nerves. Hell, taking in every detail of the soft lights down to the well worn seats around most of the tables only furthered his point.

Turning towards Natasha, reaching out to grab her arm, his hand grabs nothing but air as he turns fully to find her gone. Glancing around the place, he finds her seated already with a few familiar faces. Sam Wilson and Maria Hill were there, along with Sharon who Natasha was currently sitting next to.

Shifting his feet, watching as Natasha waves him over, he lets out a heavy breath before making his way across the bar. Approaching the table and taking the empty seat beside her, a tentative grin pulls at his lips as he nods in greeting to everyone else seated at the table.

Letting the conversations go on around him, listening to bits and pieces of each, he nearly jumps out of his skin as Sam nudges him with his elbow. “How are you, man?” The gentleness in his voice suggests he's picked up on how closed off Bucky seems to be. He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

Providing a shy smile, he shrugs his shoulders before answering. “Fine. Pretty good. You?” waiting for Sam to answer, watching as he glances past him, nodding to someone before focusing back on him. “Pretty great, really glad you two could join us.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for inviting us.” Bucky answers softly with a kind smile and a shrug, now nursing a water as a waitress walks by before moving on once Bucky waves on and Natasha orders her drink.

“Excuse me.” A voice says as the waitress steps past. A voice that sends chills down Bucky’s spine and already has his pulse steadily increasing before Steve even steps into view and takes his seat next to Sam.

It takes only a moment more to realize Steve is staring at him, hundreds of thoughts flashing over his eyes. Watching waves crash as thoughts fight over each other, it doesn't take Bucky more than a second to assume the worst. Waiting for him to yell. To demand why. To lash out at him. To take his anger out on him. To get answers.

Despite, deep down, Bucky knows that's not the type of person Steve is.

However, those warring seas seem to even out, settling as Steve says nothing to indicate he's upset with Bucky.

And honestly, Bucky doesn't know whats worse.

Bucky’s thought about every possible outcome of running into Steve since he first realized he'd be working with Natasha. Now that he's not saying anything, that throws Bucky more off kilter than anything else.

Natasha seems to notice the tension and unease in Bucky, reaching out, she places her hand on his knee and gives a reassuring squeeze. Grateful but unable to do anything more beyond placing his hand on hers, he doesn't disrupt her conversation.

Hell, he even joins in himself. Not that he could tell you what they were talking about, or what his responses had been.

Every passing minute has Bucky more and more on edge as Steve makes no acknowledgement of his presence.

It's a slap to the face thinking maybe Steve hasn't been thinking about him every day like Bucky has. Then again, that would be selfish. And isn't that what he's best at?

--

Steve doesn't know what hurts more. The fact Bucky’s right there, he could finally pull him aside, get some answers… Or the fact Steve’s resigned himself to not wanting anything to do with who he thought was once the love of his life.

Watching him from across the table, Steve has slowly been taken notice of him drink himself into oblivion. As much as he wants answers, Bucky hasn't exactly said a word to him either.

Taking notice of the way Natasha keeps turning towards him, concern shining in her eyes, Bucky does nothing more than shrug her off. However, he does turn to water instead of another beer.

It's been two hours, nearing three, since everyone had met up. Sharon, Sam, Maria, and now Natasha and Bucky joining their little group.

It's nice, for the rest of them to make new friends. But if Steve was being honest, he couldn't tell you much about what had transpired in the last three hours.

He may not have spoken a word to him, but his thoughts and attention have solely been on Bucky. Noticing the flush to his skin, the nerves getting the better of him as he continues to pull at his sleeves.

What he wouldn't do now to pull Bucky into his arms- and therein lies the problem. He's still so willing to forgive him, wanting to make him happy, when he broke his heart.

Letting out a soft sigh, earning a look from Sam, Steve gives a slight smile in return. “I think I’m going to head out.” Steve says, fishing out his wallet, paying for his tab.

Sam gives a nod and clasps him on the shoulder, “Alright, see you tomorrow bright and early. Get home safe.”

Promising to let him know when he made it, he rises from the table and wishes everyone a good night. Earning a chorus in return, Steve gives a wave before he turns and heads for the door.

Don't turn around, Rogers. Don't do that to yourself.

Unbeknownst to him, a pair of lingering eyes follow him towards the door. And all it takes is a moment before he feels an almost hesitant pull at his sleeve.

“Steve?”

--

“Steve?”

Bucky doesn't know how he found himself here. Holding onto Steve’s sleeve like a child not wanting to be left alone. Hell, he knows the moment Steve turns around to look at him, he shrinks in on himself.

What the hell was he thinking? He hasn't said three words to him all night, and here he is, panicking at the thought of Steve leaving, enough where he actually follows him to the door.

Going to open his mouth, nothing coming out but jumbled up words, his cheeks flush as Steve continues to just stare at him. What did he expect? Releasing his sleeve, lowering his gaze and pulling his arms close to himself, he takes a step back. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

Watching Steve reach out to him, near pity in his eyes, Bucky takes another step back. “James-”

That was the final blow to a still open wound Bucky had thought he'd healed. Not even addressing him as Bucky, but as James, it was enough to shatter Bucky in the fragile state he's in.

A sting in his eyes as tears threaten to fall, Bucky shakes his head, a trembling smile pulling up on his lips as he brushes past Steve and leaves the bar.

God, Bucky could kick himself right about now. When did he become like this? So afraid of every little thing. Of every encounter.

Letting out a heavy breath, it forming a puff of air in front of him, he stops right outside the bar. For what? For someone to come check on him? For Steve coming after and apologizing? That's the last thing he wants.

Shoulders shaking, he takes in another deep breath to calm himself. Wiping at his eyes, he stiffens at the sound of the door opening behind him. Not turning to find out who it was, he sighs before turning and walking down the street.

“Bucky, wait-” at the sound of his name being called, by Steve at that, Bucky shakes his head and stumbles down the street faster.

At first he had thought he wanted to talk to Steve, now he thinks he's a fool for even trying.

The weather seems to mimic Bucky’s inner turmoil as storm clouds form overhead. Threatening to fall at any moment, just as Bucky continues to struggle with his guilt.