dysmorphics | open post

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.

Edited (word choice) 2025-11-21 22:32 (UTC)

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."

She laughed then too. "Yeah, you're probably still dead on record." Her expression sobered at the reminder that he had been well and truly gone, and it had hurt just as much as it did the first time. "But for what it's worth, my answer is yes. I do. Or whatever wording is required. The paperwork can follow."

Yeah, she really was doing the whole 'fuck it, we've waited long enough for this' thing. Which included another round of kissing, despite already starting to feel light-headed again.

When they next broke off, she said with a cheeky grin, "Let's move to the bed. I'd really like to get you down to your boxers before I pass out." There would be proper sex once they felt better, sure, but who knew how many days that was going to take?

"It's not the first time they've had to take me off the KIA list," Bucky said, shrugging one shoulder. Sure, he was teasing slightly, but he also meant it. They'd thought he was killed in action for decades after he fell off that train. "But I do, too. We can deal with the legalities later."

It felt like he'd already told her fifty times that day, but in Bucky's heart, he'd always been hers anyway. Paperwork didn't matter as long as he stayed by her side.

"C'mon," he started, finally pulling away before gingerly getting to his feet, clearly favoring one leg over the other. Holding one hand out, he helped her up as well before heading towards her bedroom. "You know, I'd carry you to bed if it wasn't for this bum leg."

"I'd carry you if it wasn't for this broken arm," she returned as they hobbled together toward her bedroom. No, their bedroom. They were married now, no matter what anyone or the legalities said. She was more than happy with that.

In their injured states, there was unfortunately nothing exciting about taking off their clothes. She sat on the edge of the bed and wiggled her way out of her shorts, pulling them off one-handed, then started to fumble for the clasps of her bra beneath her tank top. She managed to free one arm only to realize there was no way she was getting it off the other, but she also wasn't about to go to sleep wearing it. It was uncomfortable as hell. Most days she even missed those years before the serum, where she didn't have to bother with one at all.

"Darling?" The endearment slipped out of her tongue easily, without her having to even think about it. "You don't happen to have a knife on you now, do you? I gotta cut off this damn strap."

When Bucky heard Steph call him darling he couldn't help the smile that stretched across his face. He was sitting on the foot of the bed, his pants half down as he bent over to pull at the Velcro holding his splint closed, needing to take it off to be able to get his pants the rest of the way off. The request for a knife had him reach for the belt that was still half around his knees before remembering that he'd dumped all his weapons in the living room. "Uh, I can go get one if you want?" he said as he turned to look at her.

But when he realized what it was she wanted to cut he perked a brow at her. "Or I could help you with that once I finish my own struggle." Getting the split off was simple and all, just pulling a couple Velcro straps and pulling it off with a hiss, then setting it aside so he could get the pants the rest of the way off. He set it on the bed before dropping his ruined pants on the floor, then scooted over to Steph.

"Here," he began, face reddening slightly as he bit his lip and gently removed her sling, then worked the strap around her splint. Once that was done, he pressed a soft kiss to the curve of Steph's shoulder before helping her back into the sling.

Bucky still needed to get his splint back on, but when did he not put Steph's wellbeing before himself?

"Let me sleep on the left? That way you don't risk smacking your head on a big lump of metal." Also, if she were on his right, he would actually be able to feel her warmth properly.

"Hey, actually..." Steph interrupted as he started to help her back into her sling. "We should probably just get this off too." She tugged at the bottom hem of her tank top to indicate it, ducking her head a little as she felt her cheeks flush. She had imagined him undressing her in all manner of ways over the many years she'd pined for him, and now that it was finally happening — even if it was almost entirely unromantic — she couldn't stop the heat from flooding her face.

She knew she was objectively pretty. The serum saw to that, and she'd been privy to the many comments about her ass and her appearance in general. Heck, she had been named Sexiest Woman Alive by various magazines several times. But none of that mattered. What Bucky thought of her was the only opinion that counted, and a part of her was worried about disappointing him.

She resisted the urge to grab the blanket and wrap it around her. Barring some medical procedures, this was the most naked she'd ever been around a guy. "Yeah, sure. I don't really have a preference since I'm, um, used to sleeping alone." She self-consciously tugged a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Do you..." Like it? she wanted to ask, but it seemed dumb. She wasn't a teenager who needed validation anymore, though she'd never really gotten rid of those damn insecurities.

Bucky's eyes went a bit wide when he realized what Steph was asking him to help her with. Looking into her eyes, he asked a simple, "You sure?" and waited for confirmation before helping her out of her tank top.

He couldn't help the way his breath caught at the sight of her. Not because of the way she was built, but because it was her. After looking her over his eyes locked on hers again. It was one of her features that didn't really change after the serum - so far they had only changed slightly over time with age. "You're beautiful, sweetheart," he said, voice soft as he reached out to place his good hand on her cheek, then leaned in to give her a short, gentle kiss. "You've always been beautiful though."

The next time he shifted he winced though, moving his ankle in a way he shouldn't have without the splint on it. "Hang on, let me just," he turned his back to her as he got rid of those socks that he'd apparently been in for five years. His ankle was definitely swollen as hell and purple, so he quickly grabbed the splint and strapped it back on.

Then he hesitated for a moment, debating with himself. Sure, it wasn't unusual for men to take their shirts off. Hell, it was downright normal. But it was something Bucky had gotten very self-conscious about since he'd had his arm replaced.

At least when he was aware enough to be self-conscious.

But after a moment, and with his back still to her, he went ahead and pulled his own tank top off, revealing all those nasty scars where metal met flesh, scars from both having the arm attached in the first place as well as all the times he tried to claw it off decades ago.

Steph stared. She'd never really seen the extent of Bucky's scars before, and the sight of them made her stomach churn. Not because she was disgusted by how they look or anything like that, but because she was the reason he had them. He'd stayed to fight with her, and for what? To get blown out of a train car and defiled in every way possible because she, with all her strength and new abilities, hadn't been able to save him.

"I'm sorry," she couldn't help saying with a soft, strangled sob. She would probably keep saying it for a while longer, until she learned to forgive herself in the same way he had already absolved her. She opened her arms for him, because while she wanted to hug him and kiss those scars, he might not want her touching him yet, and she'd long promised herself that she would never impose her presence on him or do anything to him without his consent. "Come here?"

At the sound of Steph apologizing and that sob that came out of her, Bucky turned to face her again. "What are you sorry for?" he asked, confusion written all over his face as he moved in to wrap his arms around her. Sure, he was very much aware of his scars and how awful they looked, but he would never turn Steph away when she wanted him to hold her.

Hell, aside from those first couple years after his escape, Bucky couldn't think of many times in his life he'd ever turned her away. Since they'd met, Bucky's life had pretty much revolved around Steph Rogers, whether she realized it or not. At least it had whenever he had control of himself.

"There's nothing for you to apologize for, dove," he told her before pressing a kiss to her hair. He meant it, too. Nothing that happened to him was her fault. That blame laid at HYDRA's feet only, not hers.

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