Bucky pulled his pants back on, followed by his boots - one of which could only be laced up halfway to fit the splint inside of it properly - before he limped out with her, leaving the crutch behind as he ignored the doctor muttering, "Jesus, they're stubborn as Stephen," as she rolled her eyes and walked away.
Once they got out of the tent Bucky frowned as he looked around. There were people still scattered everywhere, some in much better condition than others. "I guess we just pick a direction and go for right now? Do a quick lap before seeing if there's any updates from the other tents?" he asked. After a moment of thinking it over, and since Steph wasn't saying no, he started off in more or less the direction they came from. He figured he could start that way and then sort of circle around.
After walking for a few minutes and stopping to check on some people they saw along the way, Bucky spotted something on the ground. Once he got close enough to see what it was he changed their direction just slightly. "Hey, sweetheart, that weird hammer you had is over here," he said as they reached it. But Steph had one broken arm and the other wrapped around him so Bucky did the only rational thing. He picked it up for her. Easy peasy.
Steph was more than happy to let Bucky take the lead this time. She wasn't saying it out loud, but she was tired. It was only the need to make sure everyone else was accounted for that kept her going. For one, it was her responsibility as the leader of the Avengers. More importantly, however, there was a part of her that worried some universal karma would come back to haunt her and take Bucky away again if she didn't do her job; this was the least she could do in return for being spared and being reunited with her love.
Bucky's method was efficient, she had to give him that. He even did most of the talking, which allowed her to zone out for a bit. It wasn't rest, technically, but she was taking it.
That wasn't why she looked dazed when he turned to her after picking up Mjolnir, though. She'd heard him when he pointed the hammer out, and she'd been preparing to bend down to get it and tell him about that time the Avengers played a party game with it.
"Buck—" Oh, God. She believed in him, she'd always had, and the hammer coming away like it weighed nothing was proof that she was right all along. Tears springing to her eyes, she cupped his cheek with her good hand. "I knew it," she breathed, proud and fond and utterly vindicated. "You were always the best of us." Sure, she was the sick, scrawny girl who picked fights she could not win because it was the right thing to do, but he was the boy who always came to her rescue, who even followed her to the ugliest depths of war despite his mortality. She'd believed amount of brainwashing and reconditioning could change that.
Bucky stared at Steph when she cupped his cheek like that, confusion and worry written all over his face as he watched her. "Hey, I'm not- Sweetheart, what's going on? Are you hurting worse? I'll carry you again if you need me to." He genuinely had zero idea why she would have started saying that, or why she was looking up at him like that with tears in her eyes. After simply looping the strap of the hammer around his wrist, Bucky brought his natural hand up to rest on the side of Steph's face, his thumb wiping away a tear that escaped her eye.
Whatever it was that happened, he was more than willing to help her through it. He had put her first since they were kids, and he would continue to put her first for the rest of his life, whether she wanted him to or not.
Steph laughed then, only realizing she wasn't making sense to Bucky since she hadn't had the chance to tell him what the fuss was about with the hammer. "The hammer," she said with a laugh, before leaning in to kiss him. "You picked it up. Nobody just picks it up, it's magic. You gotta be worthy."
Fleetingly she wondered, by whatever merit system Asgardian magic operated, if she'd only been allowed to wield it out of necessity. She'd be fine with that, actually. She didn't think of herself particularly worthy of anything, not after failing spectacularly to stop Thanos and causing half the universe to disappear for five years. Even now, with the knowledge and certainty that Bucky loved her, Steph still felt she didn't deserve him, though she was ready to spend the rest of her life making sure he wouldn't regret choosing her.
She didn't say anything after that, letting the information sink in. He'd beat himself up over the things he'd done as the Winter Soldier, thought the worst of himself for it. And while this didn't erase any of that, it was proof that he was more than what he'd been forced to become. Not that she would've stopped loving him anyway.
Bucky's brow furrowed at that information. Magic? Had to be worthy? Honestly, Bucky didn't think he was worthy of much of anything. Hell, he didn't even think he was worth anything, he was just greedy enough to take what was offered to him. Like help in Wakanda and, even more importantly, Steph's friendship through the years, and the surprising love she seemed to have for him. Okay, maybe that last one made him feel like he was worth just a little instead of nothing.
So he just shook his head, not actually believing it. "Musta gotten broken in the fight or something," he said simply. That was the only explanation he could come up with, at least. The spell or whatever it was had gotten broken at some point and that's why he could pick it up like it was no big deal. "Or it's just because I'm helping you. Something like that."
Of course Bucky would brush it off. Steph wasn't surprised. Still, she wanted him to at least feel the gravity of the honor, so she asked for the hammer back, intending to use whoever they next came across to make a demonstration.
It happened to be Sam.
"Hey, Sam, pick it up, will you?" she said by way of greeting, though she was glad to see he was alright. He'd become one of her close friends since meeting in DC and going on the run from the government.
"Very funny, Steph," Sam retorted, not even bothering to try. Instead he gave her some kind of half-hug, which felt like a group hug with how she was still holding on to Bucky.
The hammer was forgotten for a moment as updates and condolences were exchanged. Nat's death, in particular, caused an uncomfortable stretch of silence. Which led to Sam glancing back at the discarded magic hammer by Steph's feet. "Can't you just hold your hand out and let it fly to you?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe you can now, too."
Bucky just gave Sam a nod in greeting when they approached him, but he likely wouldn't have even done that much if Steph wasn't beside him. Something about Sam just irritated the hell out of him but Bucky couldn't put his finger on what it was.
It couldn't possibly be how close he and Steph had gotten when Bucky hadn't been around for one reason or another. And especially now, when Bucky had no way of knowing who else did and didn't disappear for what was apparently five years. Jealousy? Nah, that couldn't be it.
He mostly stayed quiet while they talked, though, letting them have time to update each other, and pressing a kiss to the side of Steph's head when Nat's death was brought up. Was he laying claim? Maybe a little. But he was also trying to give her a little comfort. She had already told him about Nat's sacrifice, but it still sucked. She seemed pretty alright from the little bit he'd known her.
But then the topic circled back around to the hammer. "Hold my hand out and let it what now?" Bucky asked, confused. He really had zero experience with this thing that everyone was making a big deal about, and trying to make it fly to him sounded ridiculous. But, on the other hand, it sounded like it was something Sam couldn't do.
So with an eyeroll, Bucky held out his good hand and stared at the thing, wondering what exactly he was supposed to be doing to make it fly to him, when it seemingly jumped up into his hand. "Oh, shit."
"Oh, shit," Sam echoed, just as shocked. Probably even more so considering Bucky's history as the Winter Soldier, though he was kind enough not to say anything about that.
Steph only laughed, leaning in to kiss Bucky on the cheek. "Told ya. Magic," she said, in a tone of utter vindication. He could refute it all he wanted, he could refuse to believe it even, but she'd proven her point and she was happy about that.
"Wait just a minute," Sam muttered. "How—"
She shrugged, still grinning like an idiot. "I dunno, Asgard magic rules. You'll have to ask Thor."
"No, no, I mean this." He made some kind of back and forth gesture at them before giving her a look. "When did this happen? You finally told him?"
It took a moment for Steph to realize that Sam's expression was also one of vindication. When she'd turned him down all those years ago, he'd gotten the hint that there was someone else. Then Bucky had shown up and tried to kill them, and then disappeared, and Sam had clocked, from Steph's reaction to everything, that there was more to it than the pair of them being friends from childhood. He and Nat had tried to bully her into acting on her feelings every time she'd visit Bucky in Wakanda in those years they'd been on the run together, but Steph was impossibly stubborn when she wanted.
This time, she just blushed. "He told me first."
"Oh." A beat. "Oh."
"Shut up, Wilson." She waved him off. "Go find the others and give me a sitrep, will you? I'd really like to have some pizza now, and sleep for a whole week."
"Roger that, Cap." He gave her one last teasing grin that he even dared to throw Bucky's direction before walking away.
Bucky gave Sam another nod before the guy turned to walk off, then looked back down at the hammer in his hand, brow still furrowed. Worthy, huh? There had to be something else to it aside from that. He'd done too many awful things over the years to be worthy. Even if it wasn't him deciding to do them, it was still his hands that carried out the orders. They all still lived in his memories.
But, this wasn't the time for pondering all that. He'd worry about it later, when he wasn't trying to help Steph off yet another damn battlefield. She said she was hungry and tired, so finding her some food and somewhere to sleep was his priority. "C'mon, sweetheart," he started, pressing another kiss to her forehead before gesturing back towards where a building... used to stand. Sure wasn't a building anymore. "Lets go find you something to eat. And somewhere for you to at least steal a nap."
In the end, her apartment was where they found something to eat and a place to nap. Not that Steph was particularly interested in sleeping, despite her exhaustion. For one, there was that fear crawling just beneath her skin — that this was only a dream, and she'd wake up once more in a world where Bucky was gone. And the other, well, now that he was here, she wanted to do anything else but sleep.
It wasn't pizza, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that they were slumped together on the couch, Steph half-asleep with her head on Bucky's shoulder. With his help she'd stripped down to a tank top and shorts, then curled up barefoot next to him on the couch. They'd salvaged all manner of food from her pantry and fridge, and now they lay on the coffee table in front of them, in various states of consumption. In the kitchen, a pot of coffee was brewing.
"We'll go back to your goats tomorrow," she promised sleepily. The universe was alright again, but there was still work to be done. She'd agreed to meet with Bruce and T'Challa sometime after everyone's had time to rest to take care of things, but she figured Bucky probably already missed the quiet life he'd had in Wakanda. Brooklyn, after all, was as chaotic as it had always been again.
Bucky had only partly stripped down, himself. After all, he didn't exactly have clothes at Steph's house, so he had pulled off that half jacket he'd worn to the fight and kicked off his boots, leaving him sitting there in his own tank top undershirt, socked feet - one of which still had that snug splint strapped around his ankle - resting on the table in front of them beside an empty leftover container. While his head was tilted back, resting against the back of her couch with closed eyes, he had his natural arm wrapped around her shoulders, fingers drifting idly up and down her arm.
Sure, several parts of him were in a good bit of pain, but the fact that he was able to sit like he was with Steph, his Steph, made it so he barely even paid attention to the pain. Instead, he could focus on the woman he'd always been in love with tucked into his side. Bucky had pulled his hair back into a bun, and he was relaxed enough that the way it was pinned between the back of the couch and his head wasn't even bothering him.
"There's no rush," he began, then sighed softly. "It's been five years for half the world. If they're even still there, I'm sure someone else has them now." In that moment, Bucky didn't care where he was. Brooklyn, Wakanda, wherever. He just needed to be with Steph.
"You'll stay with me then?" she asked, curling a little more into him. She had long wanted to offer him that, but Wakanda had the means to help him heal, and she'd figured that after that, maybe he would want to move on. She was a part of his burdensome past, after all. Not that she'd have been in a position to give him a good life then, after the Accords situation blew up and Ross wouldn't stop hounding her ass. At least this time it was possible. One last mission, and she could turn in the shield and come home for good.
Come home to this, specifically.
She was still tired, but the food was helping. So were the micronaps. Though they needed to clean up eventually. And get proper food, once they're ready to venture outside.
That question made Bucky pick his head up so he could look at the beautiful woman resting against his shoulder, confusion written on his face. "What part of me saying I've always wanted to marry you makes you think I don't want to be wherever you are?" They'd spent enough time apart. More than enough, really. Two wars, decades on ice, time healing and deprogramming, five years in seconds, it was enough. All Bucky had ever wanted was to be with Steph, to stay by her side, and it was like everything was always trying to pull them apart.
He wasn't about to let that happen again, though, and he would fight to stay with her if he had to.
Tilting his head down, he pressed a kiss to Steph's hair before letting his face rest there, breathing her in as he closed his eyes again. "I'm stickin' with you as long as you want me around, sweetheart."
"Hey, just making sure." She smiled even as her eyes remained closed. "It might be too much too soon. You've been living on your own for a while now, and suddenly you have a roommate who snores." She wasn't sure she still did, actually, or if Nat and Sam just liked to tease her. That wasn't her only quirk either, and even if he'd known her since they were kids, so much had happened in the past how many decades that he might not be able to stand them anymore.
"And this place needs a proper cleaning." The spare bedroom had become a stockroom that she hadn't touched in a long while; there were still empty bottles of alcohol from her drunken phase after the Snap.
Opening her eyes, she trailed the fingertips of her good hand over his cheek. "I want you." Around, just like he'd said. Yet also in the other way of wanting. She was tired as fuck, and injured, and would probably pass out while making out, but neither of that — not even the years they'd lost — changed the fact that she wanted him.
Bucky couldn't help chuckling at that. Really, that's what she was worried about? "Steph, I was living in a hut surrounded by goats. You think some clutter and some snoring is gonna bother me?" There wasn't much he could think of that would make him want to be anywhere but by her side. It was where Bucky thought he'd always belonged.
Reaching up, he caught her hand in his metal one before turning his head to press a soft kiss to her palm. "I'm all yours, sweetheart." Bucky turned those steel blue eyes back to look at her again, a small, lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I've always been all yours though. I don't know how you never realized it."
It wasn't like he was all that subtle about how he would drop everything if she needed him, or how he'd jump into fights for her. Or even just how he couldn't stand if people insulted her for her health. Bucky Barnes had been in love with her since he could remember.
She made a face. "The same way you never realized it." After all, she hadn't been subtle either, and that was even before the war. She'd pack him lunch and mend his clothes and patch him up after fights and end up with the foulest of moods whenever there were rumors of him seeing someone else. And she sketched. God, how she sketched. It was a miracle that her pre-war sketchpads never made it into the museums, or there would've been a whole exhibit just for their doomed romance.
"Guess you did take all the stupid with you," she teased, grinning. It had to be said, even if they both had been idiots.
Then she yawned, drawing back her hand to rub her eyes. "We should probably head to bed." Even after everything, her cheeks turned a bit pink from saying that. "Unless you prefer the floor. I'll just have to grab some blankets and pillows if you do."
Bucky was fairly certain that they had been arguing over each other's stupidity since they were young enough to get in trouble for calling each other stupid. He didn't often mean it when he called Steph stupid. It was just what they had always done, so that didn't phase him in the slightest.
Instead, it was the mention of going to bed that caused him to hesitate for just a moment. They'd shared beds before - usually either when Steph was sick or during the war - but it was a bit different, at least to him, now that feelings had been fessed up. "I'll sleep wherever you want me to," he said simply once he got past that quick pause. Bucky slept on his own floor often enough anyway, just because, but if the other option was to stay in her bed, curled up with her, he wouldn't turn that down.
"Gotta warn you though, wherever I sleep it's gonna have to be in my boxers. These pants have a big patch of dried blood on them."
It had taken her years to get used to sleeping in a bed again, and even then she needed it to feel like, well, the floor. But now she looked forward to not sleeping like a soldier, instead curled up together with him as they did when they were younger.
Huh. Guess that was another sign she'd missed. It wasn't that she was clueless about the impropriety of him sleeping in her bed, only that she'd mistaken the gesture for something more platonic, even familial. Nevermind the times she'd woken up after her fever had broken and felt a different kind of heat rise at his body being pressed against hers.
"Those boxers are only staying on because my good arm is in a sling," she somehow managed to dare to joke. While she wasn't the pure and innocent lady the public somehow believed she was, they'd never directed any sexual comments at each other, not even during the war, when the Howlies would talk about raunchier topics. He would even call out anyone he overheard commenting on her ass and remind them to show some respect. It was a nice ass, yeah, but she hated the leering looks and her worth being reduced to that, and he knew it.
It was a nice change, really.
(The funny thing was, she was right-handed and it was her shield arm that was injured. Besides, it wasn't like there weren't other ways to remove clothes. Hell, she'd even sketched plenty scenes like that.)
Chuckling, Bucky decided to ignore the way he could feel his face heat at Steph's joke. There was a reason why so many parents were so fine with a nice boy like Bucky taking their daughters out before the War, just like there was a reason he had never tried to go with any of the ladies on his rare weekend leaves during the War. Or since he escaped HYDRA's clutches. He had only ever genuinely wanted to be with Steph, so he simply... hadn't been with anyone.
(Nothing in that area that happened while he was brainwashed counted, of course. Bucky had a much easier time giving himself grace for that than he did when it came to other things he did as Winter Soldier.)
"Why don't you go on to bed, and I'll pick up in here before joining you?" he offered, ignoring the fact that his ankle was in a splint and the whole walking thing was awful once the adrenaline from battle had worn off. Not to mention the way his thigh stung where that doctor had stitched the gash closed. But Steph was also injured and, to him, it only made sense to want to help her however he could.
What a mess they were, though. Between the two of them, they were down one leg and one arm (Well, two arms, really.), but things still needed to get done. Some of the containers on the table still held uneaten food, and she didn't want that to spoil, did she?
The part of her that grew up during what history now called the Great Depression didn't want any of the leftover food to go to waste. She'd experienced, after all, struggling to make ends meet, especially after her Ma died.
But the part of her who had been drowning in grief and despair over the last five years was finally coming up for air, and she cared little about food now that she wasn't at the verge of collapsing from hunger. "Leave it," she said, shaking her head at him with a small smile. "We'll order something fresh tomorrow." Home-cooked but delivered right to her doorstep; a convenience of the modern world she appreciated.
She leaned in then, kissing him on the mouth before he could protest. When he finally relented, she pulled back enough to murmur, "Come on, Barnes. I've wanted you in my bed since high school. We can at least make out before we pass out."
It didn't take long at all for Bucky to end up giving in to the kiss, to the point that when she pulled back he tried to follow her for a moment before pulling back enough to look at her. "I've been in your bed before," he said, teasing her slightly as he smiled and ignored the fact that his face felt hot again. Sure, it had been when they were young and she was sick, and he hadn't been allowed to hold her exactly the way he wanted to, or kiss her, but that was beside the point.
"But I won't mind making out with you before we fall asleep, doll," Bucky chuckled softly, reaching up to tuck a clump of hair that had fallen loose behind Steph's ear before leaning in to kiss her again, simply because he was finally allowed to kiss her.
Aside from that, however, he was being utterly useless and making no real move to so much as stand up. After all, standing would mean separating for a minute or two, and he didn't want to move away from her any time soon.
"Doesn't count," she murmured against his lips, in the same tone she would use to tease him about being an idiot. It was a marvel, really, that they managed to keep their relationship platonic despite the many times they'd ended up together in her bed. Or her in his tent during the war, which also happened a lot; it broke several Army regulations, but since the Howlies knew of his plan to propose, they took no issue with it.
When they'd kissed hours ago, at the ruins of the Avengers Compound that had become a battlefield, it had been charged with emotions. It still was now, but she was hyperaware of the more primal instincts stirring within her and was, in fact, giving into them as much as her injured body allowed. Fisting the front of his shirt and pulling him closer. Burying her fingers into his hair. Parting her lips with a moan for his tongue.
They ought to move because the bed should be more comfortable... but moving could wait. Moving meant parting — in their current states they couldn't just get up and kiss their way to the bedroom — and she didn't really want to do that right now.
Injured or not, Bucky thought kissing Steph was just as perfect as he always suspected it would be, especially when he felt her lips part for him and heard that moan. Sure, he'd kissed other girls and women when he was younger, and those were... fine. Not awful or anything, but none of them felt like kissing Steph did. Kissing her felt right.
Tightening the natural arm he had wrapped around her shoulders, Bucky shifted closer and placed his metal hand gently on her hip. If they were less hurt, Bucky would probably scoop her up and carry her off to her bed, but with his ankle, that wasn't exactly the smartest option, so the couch was just fine with him for the time being.
Bucky let out his own soft groan when he let his tongue brush against hers, getting his first real taste of her. He continued to kiss her deeply and passionately for a moment before breaking it, but only pulling back far enough to let his forehead rest against hers. Heart pounding and breathing hard, there was a soft smile on his face. "God, I love you, Steph."
Steph felt the years wash away the more they kissed, and while she and Bucky were no longer the same people they'd been back then, she at least was as in love with him as she'd always been. Perhaps even more so, after everything. "I love you too, Buck." She was smiling, but she couldn't help the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "I'm really glad you're home."
Not just back, but home. In each other's arms, alive and safe. She wasn't going to let anything separate them again.
She cupped his cheek and ran her thumb along his lower lip. "So when are we getting married?" She would say her vows right then and there and make things official, if that were possible; alas, there was paperwork to do and formalities to be observed, on top of whatever bureaucratic bullshit was coming in the aftermath of Thanos' defeat and the return of the Vanished.
Hearing Steph say those words and knowing for a fact that she didn't mean it in a platonic way anymore was like music to Bucky's ears. And her saying "home", whether she just meant back or if she meant her apartment, it didn't matter. His home was wherever she was, and he was going to do his best to keep it that way. "I'm not going to let anything separate us again." For one thing, there had been more than enough separation. For another, Bucky was the happiest and most content that he'd been since before he shipped out to Europe.
The question about the wedding, however, made him laugh. He moved to press a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling back to look at her. "Sweetheart, I'd drag you to a courthouse right now if I thought they'd actually marry us tonight," he told her simply. "The only thing that kept me from trying that on our way back here was knowing that it wouldn't be legal yet if we did that."
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Once they got out of the tent Bucky frowned as he looked around. There were people still scattered everywhere, some in much better condition than others. "I guess we just pick a direction and go for right now? Do a quick lap before seeing if there's any updates from the other tents?" he asked. After a moment of thinking it over, and since Steph wasn't saying no, he started off in more or less the direction they came from. He figured he could start that way and then sort of circle around.
After walking for a few minutes and stopping to check on some people they saw along the way, Bucky spotted something on the ground. Once he got close enough to see what it was he changed their direction just slightly. "Hey, sweetheart, that weird hammer you had is over here," he said as they reached it. But Steph had one broken arm and the other wrapped around him so Bucky did the only rational thing. He picked it up for her. Easy peasy.
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Bucky's method was efficient, she had to give him that. He even did most of the talking, which allowed her to zone out for a bit. It wasn't rest, technically, but she was taking it.
That wasn't why she looked dazed when he turned to her after picking up Mjolnir, though. She'd heard him when he pointed the hammer out, and she'd been preparing to bend down to get it and tell him about that time the Avengers played a party game with it.
"Buck—" Oh, God. She believed in him, she'd always had, and the hammer coming away like it weighed nothing was proof that she was right all along. Tears springing to her eyes, she cupped his cheek with her good hand. "I knew it," she breathed, proud and fond and utterly vindicated. "You were always the best of us." Sure, she was the sick, scrawny girl who picked fights she could not win because it was the right thing to do, but he was the boy who always came to her rescue, who even followed her to the ugliest depths of war despite his mortality. She'd believed amount of brainwashing and reconditioning could change that.
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Whatever it was that happened, he was more than willing to help her through it. He had put her first since they were kids, and he would continue to put her first for the rest of his life, whether she wanted him to or not.
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Fleetingly she wondered, by whatever merit system Asgardian magic operated, if she'd only been allowed to wield it out of necessity. She'd be fine with that, actually. She didn't think of herself particularly worthy of anything, not after failing spectacularly to stop Thanos and causing half the universe to disappear for five years. Even now, with the knowledge and certainty that Bucky loved her, Steph still felt she didn't deserve him, though she was ready to spend the rest of her life making sure he wouldn't regret choosing her.
She didn't say anything after that, letting the information sink in. He'd beat himself up over the things he'd done as the Winter Soldier, thought the worst of himself for it. And while this didn't erase any of that, it was proof that he was more than what he'd been forced to become. Not that she would've stopped loving him anyway.
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So he just shook his head, not actually believing it. "Musta gotten broken in the fight or something," he said simply. That was the only explanation he could come up with, at least. The spell or whatever it was had gotten broken at some point and that's why he could pick it up like it was no big deal. "Or it's just because I'm helping you. Something like that."
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It happened to be Sam.
"Hey, Sam, pick it up, will you?" she said by way of greeting, though she was glad to see he was alright. He'd become one of her close friends since meeting in DC and going on the run from the government.
"Very funny, Steph," Sam retorted, not even bothering to try. Instead he gave her some kind of half-hug, which felt like a group hug with how she was still holding on to Bucky.
The hammer was forgotten for a moment as updates and condolences were exchanged. Nat's death, in particular, caused an uncomfortable stretch of silence. Which led to Sam glancing back at the discarded magic hammer by Steph's feet. "Can't you just hold your hand out and let it fly to you?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe you can now, too."
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It couldn't possibly be how close he and Steph had gotten when Bucky hadn't been around for one reason or another. And especially now, when Bucky had no way of knowing who else did and didn't disappear for what was apparently five years. Jealousy? Nah, that couldn't be it.
He mostly stayed quiet while they talked, though, letting them have time to update each other, and pressing a kiss to the side of Steph's head when Nat's death was brought up. Was he laying claim? Maybe a little. But he was also trying to give her a little comfort. She had already told him about Nat's sacrifice, but it still sucked. She seemed pretty alright from the little bit he'd known her.
But then the topic circled back around to the hammer. "Hold my hand out and let it what now?" Bucky asked, confused. He really had zero experience with this thing that everyone was making a big deal about, and trying to make it fly to him sounded ridiculous. But, on the other hand, it sounded like it was something Sam couldn't do.
So with an eyeroll, Bucky held out his good hand and stared at the thing, wondering what exactly he was supposed to be doing to make it fly to him, when it seemingly jumped up into his hand. "Oh, shit."
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Steph only laughed, leaning in to kiss Bucky on the cheek. "Told ya. Magic," she said, in a tone of utter vindication. He could refute it all he wanted, he could refuse to believe it even, but she'd proven her point and she was happy about that.
"Wait just a minute," Sam muttered. "How—"
She shrugged, still grinning like an idiot. "I dunno, Asgard magic rules. You'll have to ask Thor."
"No, no, I mean this." He made some kind of back and forth gesture at them before giving her a look. "When did this happen? You finally told him?"
It took a moment for Steph to realize that Sam's expression was also one of vindication. When she'd turned him down all those years ago, he'd gotten the hint that there was someone else. Then Bucky had shown up and tried to kill them, and then disappeared, and Sam had clocked, from Steph's reaction to everything, that there was more to it than the pair of them being friends from childhood. He and Nat had tried to bully her into acting on her feelings every time she'd visit Bucky in Wakanda in those years they'd been on the run together, but Steph was impossibly stubborn when she wanted.
This time, she just blushed. "He told me first."
"Oh." A beat. "Oh."
"Shut up, Wilson." She waved him off. "Go find the others and give me a sitrep, will you? I'd really like to have some pizza now, and sleep for a whole week."
"Roger that, Cap." He gave her one last teasing grin that he even dared to throw Bucky's direction before walking away.
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But, this wasn't the time for pondering all that. He'd worry about it later, when he wasn't trying to help Steph off yet another damn battlefield. She said she was hungry and tired, so finding her some food and somewhere to sleep was his priority. "C'mon, sweetheart," he started, pressing another kiss to her forehead before gesturing back towards where a building... used to stand. Sure wasn't a building anymore. "Lets go find you something to eat. And somewhere for you to at least steal a nap."
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It wasn't pizza, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that they were slumped together on the couch, Steph half-asleep with her head on Bucky's shoulder. With his help she'd stripped down to a tank top and shorts, then curled up barefoot next to him on the couch. They'd salvaged all manner of food from her pantry and fridge, and now they lay on the coffee table in front of them, in various states of consumption. In the kitchen, a pot of coffee was brewing.
"We'll go back to your goats tomorrow," she promised sleepily. The universe was alright again, but there was still work to be done. She'd agreed to meet with Bruce and T'Challa sometime after everyone's had time to rest to take care of things, but she figured Bucky probably already missed the quiet life he'd had in Wakanda. Brooklyn, after all, was as chaotic as it had always been again.
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Sure, several parts of him were in a good bit of pain, but the fact that he was able to sit like he was with Steph, his Steph, made it so he barely even paid attention to the pain. Instead, he could focus on the woman he'd always been in love with tucked into his side. Bucky had pulled his hair back into a bun, and he was relaxed enough that the way it was pinned between the back of the couch and his head wasn't even bothering him.
"There's no rush," he began, then sighed softly. "It's been five years for half the world. If they're even still there, I'm sure someone else has them now." In that moment, Bucky didn't care where he was. Brooklyn, Wakanda, wherever. He just needed to be with Steph.
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Come home to this, specifically.
She was still tired, but the food was helping. So were the micronaps. Though they needed to clean up eventually. And get proper food, once they're ready to venture outside.
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He wasn't about to let that happen again, though, and he would fight to stay with her if he had to.
Tilting his head down, he pressed a kiss to Steph's hair before letting his face rest there, breathing her in as he closed his eyes again. "I'm stickin' with you as long as you want me around, sweetheart."
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"And this place needs a proper cleaning." The spare bedroom had become a stockroom that she hadn't touched in a long while; there were still empty bottles of alcohol from her drunken phase after the Snap.
Opening her eyes, she trailed the fingertips of her good hand over his cheek. "I want you." Around, just like he'd said. Yet also in the other way of wanting. She was tired as fuck, and injured, and would probably pass out while making out, but neither of that — not even the years they'd lost — changed the fact that she wanted him.
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Reaching up, he caught her hand in his metal one before turning his head to press a soft kiss to her palm. "I'm all yours, sweetheart." Bucky turned those steel blue eyes back to look at her again, a small, lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I've always been all yours though. I don't know how you never realized it."
It wasn't like he was all that subtle about how he would drop everything if she needed him, or how he'd jump into fights for her. Or even just how he couldn't stand if people insulted her for her health. Bucky Barnes had been in love with her since he could remember.
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"Guess you did take all the stupid with you," she teased, grinning. It had to be said, even if they both had been idiots.
Then she yawned, drawing back her hand to rub her eyes. "We should probably head to bed." Even after everything, her cheeks turned a bit pink from saying that. "Unless you prefer the floor. I'll just have to grab some blankets and pillows if you do."
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Instead, it was the mention of going to bed that caused him to hesitate for just a moment. They'd shared beds before - usually either when Steph was sick or during the war - but it was a bit different, at least to him, now that feelings had been fessed up. "I'll sleep wherever you want me to," he said simply once he got past that quick pause. Bucky slept on his own floor often enough anyway, just because, but if the other option was to stay in her bed, curled up with her, he wouldn't turn that down.
"Gotta warn you though, wherever I sleep it's gonna have to be in my boxers. These pants have a big patch of dried blood on them."
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Huh. Guess that was another sign she'd missed. It wasn't that she was clueless about the impropriety of him sleeping in her bed, only that she'd mistaken the gesture for something more platonic, even familial. Nevermind the times she'd woken up after her fever had broken and felt a different kind of heat rise at his body being pressed against hers.
"Those boxers are only staying on because my good arm is in a sling," she somehow managed to dare to joke. While she wasn't the pure and innocent lady the public somehow believed she was, they'd never directed any sexual comments at each other, not even during the war, when the Howlies would talk about raunchier topics. He would even call out anyone he overheard commenting on her ass and remind them to show some respect. It was a nice ass, yeah, but she hated the leering looks and her worth being reduced to that, and he knew it.
It was a nice change, really.
(The funny thing was, she was right-handed and it was her shield arm that was injured. Besides, it wasn't like there weren't other ways to remove clothes. Hell, she'd even sketched plenty scenes like that.)
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(Nothing in that area that happened while he was brainwashed counted, of course. Bucky had a much easier time giving himself grace for that than he did when it came to other things he did as Winter Soldier.)
"Why don't you go on to bed, and I'll pick up in here before joining you?" he offered, ignoring the fact that his ankle was in a splint and the whole walking thing was awful once the adrenaline from battle had worn off. Not to mention the way his thigh stung where that doctor had stitched the gash closed. But Steph was also injured and, to him, it only made sense to want to help her however he could.
What a mess they were, though. Between the two of them, they were down one leg and one arm (Well, two arms, really.), but things still needed to get done. Some of the containers on the table still held uneaten food, and she didn't want that to spoil, did she?
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But the part of her who had been drowning in grief and despair over the last five years was finally coming up for air, and she cared little about food now that she wasn't at the verge of collapsing from hunger. "Leave it," she said, shaking her head at him with a small smile. "We'll order something fresh tomorrow." Home-cooked but delivered right to her doorstep; a convenience of the modern world she appreciated.
She leaned in then, kissing him on the mouth before he could protest. When he finally relented, she pulled back enough to murmur, "Come on, Barnes. I've wanted you in my bed since high school. We can at least make out before we pass out."
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"But I won't mind making out with you before we fall asleep, doll," Bucky chuckled softly, reaching up to tuck a clump of hair that had fallen loose behind Steph's ear before leaning in to kiss her again, simply because he was finally allowed to kiss her.
Aside from that, however, he was being utterly useless and making no real move to so much as stand up. After all, standing would mean separating for a minute or two, and he didn't want to move away from her any time soon.
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When they'd kissed hours ago, at the ruins of the Avengers Compound that had become a battlefield, it had been charged with emotions. It still was now, but she was hyperaware of the more primal instincts stirring within her and was, in fact, giving into them as much as her injured body allowed. Fisting the front of his shirt and pulling him closer. Burying her fingers into his hair. Parting her lips with a moan for his tongue.
They ought to move because the bed should be more comfortable... but moving could wait. Moving meant parting — in their current states they couldn't just get up and kiss their way to the bedroom — and she didn't really want to do that right now.
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Tightening the natural arm he had wrapped around her shoulders, Bucky shifted closer and placed his metal hand gently on her hip. If they were less hurt, Bucky would probably scoop her up and carry her off to her bed, but with his ankle, that wasn't exactly the smartest option, so the couch was just fine with him for the time being.
Bucky let out his own soft groan when he let his tongue brush against hers, getting his first real taste of her. He continued to kiss her deeply and passionately for a moment before breaking it, but only pulling back far enough to let his forehead rest against hers. Heart pounding and breathing hard, there was a soft smile on his face. "God, I love you, Steph."
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Not just back, but home. In each other's arms, alive and safe. She wasn't going to let anything separate them again.
She cupped his cheek and ran her thumb along his lower lip. "So when are we getting married?" She would say her vows right then and there and make things official, if that were possible; alas, there was paperwork to do and formalities to be observed, on top of whatever bureaucratic bullshit was coming in the aftermath of Thanos' defeat and the return of the Vanished.
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The question about the wedding, however, made him laugh. He moved to press a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling back to look at her. "Sweetheart, I'd drag you to a courthouse right now if I thought they'd actually marry us tonight," he told her simply. "The only thing that kept me from trying that on our way back here was knowing that it wouldn't be legal yet if we did that."
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i hate using the same icon twice in a row but this is the face he's making dammit
also his face in those pictures 😌
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i had to now
yesssss
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