I always have no idea what I'm doing

and Thor, you see, he befriends Bucky as quickly and as naturally as he does everybody else.

Thor with the boisterous laugh of a godling in his prime and the eyes of an ancient soul; Thor who’s supposed to be the god of thunder, and yet beams as bright and warm as the sun.

Thor, who finds true enjoyment in making people feel good about themselves, and he’s always calling Bucky handsome, complimenting the progress of his beard, teaching him how to braid his hair the Asgardian way, patiently and eagerly, just like he was taught when he was a boy.

Thor is genuinely impressed by Bucky’s knife skills, the flipping and the throwing and the twirling – he himself was always more about power and momentum, rather than stealth and agility – but his brother, he tells Bucky with unsuspected fondness, his brother would find kinship in Bucky’s knack for sharp blades.

Thor never tiptoes around Bucky – on the contrary, he’s quick to sling an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, to slam his huge hand between Bucky’s shoulder blades with enough strength to generate a minor earthquake and make Bucky’s bones rattle like so many pebbles in a box.

Thor, who is a literal god and has the body show it, who’s battle-worn and fierce and still finds the time to pick wildflowers to bring as a gift for Bucky’s home, who owns two goats with super badass names (which then turn out to be the equivalent of Toothgap and Chews-a-lot), who could easily tuck Bucky under his arm and take him for a spin through the clouds with his magical hammer

and he’s gorgeous, and loyal, and generous, and a king amongst his people, and it would be so fucking easy to fall head over heels for someone like him

and then there’s Steve, who had only just managed to talk himself into confessing his feelings to the love of his life

and suddenly it’s like Thor is always there, and his hands seem to be on Bucky at all times – on Bucky’s arm, at his back, in his hair to weave it into lovely plaits – and Steve loves Thor, he does, but these days he also feels the occasional urge to bite Thor’s fingers off one by one

he’s jealous. he’s so fucking jealous it hurts. maybe he doesn’t even realize it at first, but then he recognizes it – this ugly feeling eating away at his insides, sitting unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach every time he sees Thor hover too close to Bucky for one second too long

and he hates it, he hates feeling this way. he knows he’s being unfair, to Thor and Bucky both. he can see how Thor’s friendship affect Bucky in the best way; how important it is for him, to have one person in the world who cares, who sees beyond his past and doesn’t resent or blame him for it; someone who values him, not just as an asset to use when the need arises, but as a man, as a person, as a friend

and Steve is glad, he truly is! Bucky deserves it all – the extra positive touch, the words of affirmation, the loud appreciation, all of it. he deserves to be surrounded by people who love him, who respect him, and he deserves to feel at ease with them, as he does with Thor

but.

but every time Steve hears him laugh at one of Thor’s jokes, or catches him listening avidly to one of Thor’s many tales, which sound better and more exciting than half the sci-fi novels out there, he can’t help but wish he were the one putting that gleam in Bucky’s eyes

when he sees Thor pull Bucky into a one-armed hug so easily, while he can’t even bring himself to take Bucky’s hand, look him in the eye and whisper the words he’s been carrying in his heart for so long–

when he goes back to their place – Bucky’s place – and is greeted by yet another trinket Thor brought back from his latest trip to this or that world, the number of them crowding every room now, like a constant reminder–

when he and Bucky sit together for dinner, or Bucky tugs him along for a walk through the fields, and the first words out of his mouth are “Thor told me...” or “Thor says that...”–

Steve is jealous. so jealous he can feel his heart darken with rot from the inside out, like an apple core crawling with worms.

and the thing is, superserum or not, Steve is only human – and one day, when they’re all together and Thor is being is usual, friendly, affectionate self, Steve snaps at him for no apparent reason

it takes him a moment to realize what he’s done, and the way Bucky’s looking at him... all Steve can think to do is stalk off to go sulk in private, and maybe let the ground swallow him whole

meanwhile, Bucky doesn’t know what to think – he’s surprised, and a bit angry, and very much confused. yes, Steve has been acting weird for some time, but this? this isn’t like him at all

Thor, on the other hand, he’s not half as oblivious as he may seem; he’s been watching for a while now, and he believes he knows what’s going on with his friend. so he takes Bucky aside and tells him. clasps Bucky’s shoulder, and with a warm, benevolent smile, of the sort you’d only ever see on an immortal being, he says, “I believe it’s time for you and Steven to have a conversation, my friend.”

and dammit, but Bucky thinks so, too

locating Steve is easy enough. Bucky finds him exactly where he thought Steve would be: sitting under the tree in their backyard, where they’ve spent many of their afternoons, reading to each other, dozing off in its shade, snacking on dried fruits and nuts as they sent cute cat videos and memes back and forth between them

he’s got one of the shepherd dogs curled up in his lap, and he looks so solemn and miserable, with his fingers buried in the puppy’s fur and his head hanging gloomily, Bucky almost feels bad for him.

he approaches calmly – he knows Steve is aware of his presence by now – and sits on the ground next to him, in the groove between the tree’s roots, which they have long since claimed as their spot.

It’s Steve who speaks first, a quiet mutter, like all the fight’s gone out of him.

“What are you doing out here?”

Bucky shrugs. “Came to see if you were fit for civil company again.”

He looks over – Steve’s chin is nearly touching his chest at this point, eyes trained carefully on a nondescript spot on the dog’s white fur. Well then, Bucky decides, if this is how it’s going to play out.

“You know, Thor says he fears he must have upset you somehow.”

Steve is quiet for a moment, but there’s something there, in the way his jaw clenches minutely under his beard, that tells Bucky he’s struck the right nerve.

“And why would he think that?” asks Steve.

“I don’t know, maybe because you were being an asshole to him?”

The tips of Steve’s ears burn red hot – shame, if Bucky had to guess. Good.

“You’re right,” Steve says eventually, sounding genuinely contrite. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have– I’m sorry.”

“You should apologize to him.”

Steve nods, “I will. I promise.”

and then it’s quiet again. Steve keeps rubbing his thumbs over the dog’s soft ears, silent, and it becomes clear to Bucky that if he wants anything to change here, he’s gonna have to make the first move.

“He’s got an interesting theory, you know. Thor,” he tells Steve casually, nudging Steve’s knee with his own. “He thinks you might be jealous.”

That catches Steve’s attention. His head snaps up, and this time he actually meets Bucky’s eye, stuttering, “Jealous? Wha– why would I, why would I be–”

But it’s precisely because he’s looking Bucky in the eye, that he can’t bring himself to finish that sentence.

“... Was it that obvious?”

He sounds so utterly mortified, Bucky can’t help a little smile there. “To some more than others. Subtlety’s never really been your thing, you know that.”

Steve sighs, leaning back against the tree trunk as tension visibly bleeds out of him.

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I’ve been the worst lately. I should have been supportive, should have been rooting for you making a new friend, and instead I went and made it all about me. I’m sorry, I really am.” He goes back to scratching behind the dog’s ears, avoiding Bucky’s gaze, hesitant even as he adds, “I just... could tell how much you liked him.”

So there it is, then.

“And you thought that, since I had him now, I would just forget about you?”

The apples of Steve’s cheeks flush pink, high and full across his cheekbones. “It sounds so stupid when you put it like that.”

Good, Bucky thinks, because it is stupid. Steve is stupid – a stupid, endearing, adorable idiot, and Bucky wants to kiss the uncertainty off of his pretty face so bad it actually hurts to hold back.

“I do like Thor,” he says, watching Steve nod pitifully beside him. “He’s a good man, or– or god, or whatever he is in the first place. The thing is, he’s a good friend, and good friends are hard to come by. But Thor is not the one I want to be with. He’s not the one I want to fall asleep with, or wake up to, or come home to when the day’s work is done.”

Steve looks up, lips parted, a single grain of hope gleaming in his eyes. “He’s not?”

Bucky smiles, fond. Either Steve’s just that blind, or he’s playing dumb because he wants to hear Bucky say it; but that’s fine, too. That’s more than fine. Bucky’s gone without putting this into words for long enough. “No, Steve.”

“But there is someone.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, there is someone.”

He scoots closer, until their shoulders meet, and slips his metal hand in Steve’s own, letting Steve lace their fingers together.

“There’s this guy, you know, a good pal of mine. We go way back, basically grew up together, and I might deny this tomorrow, but I’ve been holding a torch for him since like, forever. I even asked him to move in with me – twice now, if you can believe that.”

Steve’s head tips gently against his, nuzzling briefly at Bucky’s temple. His breath is soft against Bucky’s cheek, and their hair whispers together, silk to silk. “Did you.”

Bucky hums. “First time around, we were still kids. He got all stubborn about it, figured it must be charity on my part, you know, a good Samaritan kind of deal. Never even crossed his mind that I might be more selfish than that. That he was home to me, and I wanted to be the same to him.”

The gentle squeeze of Steve’s hand around his is worth a thousand words. Bucky can feel them press into his skin, I remember, rich with fondness for the boys they used to be, and We know better now, soft and grateful, and more than that, sweeter than that, I’m right here, right here with you, deep at the core of who they’ve always been – ubi tu gaius, my love. Where you are, there I will be.

“But he came around,” Steve says, and Bucky can hear the smile in his voice as he says it.

There’s a happy ending somewhere in this story, close enough that Bucky can taste it on the roof of his mouth already, and they can spell it together, same as they’ve been doing since once upon a time.

“He sure did,” Bucky confirms. “The second time I asked him, though, he didn’t put up a fight. In fact, he didn’t try to argue at all. He said yes right away, and I thought. Maybe we’d both had enough of being apart. Maybe he wanted this as much as I did.”

“He did,” Steve promises without hesitation, body turning towards Bucky, seeking his gaze, and there’s no way Bucky could doubt him when they are like this. No way he could mistake the truth in Steve’s eyes for anything but what it is.

“And now he’s here with me,” he says. “Living with me. Building a home with me. He cooks with me, cleans up with me, stays up with me when I can’t sleep. He hangs our laundry all squared up like he’s due for an inspection, and he keeps buying more socks than either of us can ever wear, and he makes a face every time this other guy brings flowers into our home, because apparently, he should be the only one who gets to do that.”

And there’s the bright pink at the tip of Steve’s ears again, and the way he blushes all the way from the mole on his cheek to the three freckles on his neck, the way he ducks his head a little, embarrassed.

It’s moments like this that make Bucky sure: this is the man he wants. This doofus right here, who looks at him like he can’t help but, stars in his eyes, and tries so hard to hide the smallest of smiles under his beard, but he hasn’t quite learned how yet. Bucky thinks he never will. And to be honest, he kinda likes it that way.

He cups Steve’s jaw, stroking over the dimple he knows is there, buried beneath the soft bristles, and feels Steve’s smile curve under his thumb.

“I know him like the back of my hand, and still he surprises me some days. He knows me, too. Knows all there is to know, all the things that matter. He just hasn’t picked up on how much I love him yet. How happy he makes me. How jealous I get when our dogs like him better than me,” he adds, tipping his chin towards the overgrown puppy currently in Steve’s lap. Steve chuckles, and if Bucky could spend the rest of eternity just counting the crinkles around his eyes and kissing each and everyone of them, he would.

“I gotta say, this guy sounds like a mook,” Steve teases softly. “Might be you’re gonna have to spell it out for him.”

Bucky slips his fingers in Steve’s hair, pulling him in.

“You’re a dick,” he rumbles.

“I love you too,” Steve rumbles back.