When we were young

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There was no missing his Steve’s frown, though Yasha didn’t comment on it. Instead he just followed as Steve tugged him along, though he was unable to resist raising a brow at the comment of losing a home. It was a sweet sentiment, but it wasn’t enough to make Yasha feel guilty about the decision he’d made. Not that one, never. 

“And now your home is back,” he reminded as he settled into Steve’s side, turning his head to kiss his jaw. “Better and safer. With a healthy foundation for you,” he reminded gently. “This time, hopefully never to leave you again. Yes?”

Steve let out a quiet chuckle as Yasha built up on his metaphor – as sappy as it sounded, it worked for him, mostly because he had missed the sound of his husband’s voice uttering promises of everlasting love. He hummed in response, wrapping an arm around Yasha’s shoulder to hold him close, laidback as if they had left all the stress behind in the white high-tech lab.

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Of course Steve wouldn’t want to tell him the half of it, just fluttering those dark-gold lashes and giving him sad little smiles instead. The kiss to his palm still felt like it was shooting warmth down Yasha’s arm and directly into his veins even moments later, distracting and sweet and so very Steve. 

“So you’ve spent all this time on the run?” Yasha asked, unable to help a tinge of sympathy. “Saving the world then being forced to run and hide?” he asked, sliding his hand down to rest over Steve’s chest. Feeling his heart beat, strong and steady under his palm.

Steve nodded slowly, although he paused and frowned as Yasha continued speaking. It was the truth, of course, yet it sounded worse when phrased like that – or perhaps it was just an apt description that hit too close to home. He closed his eyes as a sigh escaped his lips, chest relaxing under Yasha’s hand even as his heart skipped a beat, recognizing their closeness as the one thing he had missed the most during his time on the run.

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How Yasha loved it when Steve practically pouted at him, even though the attempt was lost in the shine of his eyes. He grinned, feeling light despite everything, and gave the back of Steve’s neck another squeeze. His palm was warm and calloused and familiar, as though he’d never been wrapped in ice. “Oh, I’m sure,” he teased, hand sliding around to cup Steve’s cheek. 

His smile faded then, turning to something softer. Something quiet. “Was it terrible?” he asked, brushing his thumb along Steve’s cheek. 

It was a strange feeling, seeing Yasha lively and comfortable as if he had just woken up from an afternoon nap instead of a 6-month induced coma. Steve’s heart was heavier, although he was glad to be back into loving arms – he wanted nothing more than to bury into that embrace until their time apart was a mere forgotten memory, but he’d been living with a sense of misplacement for too long.

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The kiss left Yasha’s lips tingling when Steve pulled back, gray eyes half-lidded and shadowed as he looked at his husband–but he forced his attention back to Shuri, who was looking conflicted. “I understand that, Captain, but maybe just a couple more tests?” she hedged, eyes flicking between the two men. “Just to be sure. Then you can leave, I promise.” She paused, rethinking. “Well, with a panic button, but you know. Still.” 

Yasha sighed. It sounded reasonable, but god, he wanted to be alone with Steve and catch up on everything he’d missed. He’d been away for so long. 

“Of course, Princess,” he replied instead, twisting his lips into a practiced, polite smile. “Anything you need.”

–

The moment they stepped into the room, Yasha was winding his hand through Steve’s hair. He was momentarily annoyed that he didn’t have two, but there was an arm in development for him–better than anything you’ve had before by half. He grinned and pressed a kiss to Steve’s mouth, warm and familiar and wanting, before pulling back to look into those brilliantly blue eyes. 

“What have I missed?” Yasha asked quietly, his hand falling from Steve’s thick hair to squeeze the back of his neck. “Tell me everything.”

Finally, that irreplaceable piece in his heart had slotted back into place. The lingering loneliness was hard to shake off completely and Steve felt like he needed to cling tight in order to make sure that it was over. That was the real reason he’d been anxious to be alone with Yasha – not for any inappropriate ideas, but because it unnerved him to show his most vulnerable side in a room full of people.

Besides… maybe they would end up in activities that didn’t need an audience, or at least that’s what they seemed to be heading to when Yasha kissed him as soon as they were closed the door to the guest room. Steve breathed in deeply and tried to chase after those lips, only to frown slightly at the question.

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For all that Yasha was calmer than Steve about he whole thing, he still felt some apprehension going into the final trigger. His only tell was the way that his hand clenched in his lap, though his expression remained calm and expectant. It was almost morbid, the gentle way his husband stroked his cheek and stared straight into his eyes as he prepared to say the word that should, for all intents and purposes, kill him. Of all the possible ways to die, staring into those blue eyes and feeling that warm touch… It was a good one, Yasha figured. 

And then Steve spoke. A long moment passed where Yasha didn’t move. 

One. Two. 

Nothing happened.

“Sputnik?” Yasha said dryly, incredulity settling in as the seconds passed with no reaction. He definitely didn’t feel as though his body was shutting down against his will. Joy at their success warred with outrage. “They made Sputnik my trigger?” he said with growing disdain, turning to Shuri. “The most famous satellite in human history? What if I watched a documentary on the space race? What if I was talking with someone about it—I lived through it, after all.” 

“I figured you’d ask,” Shuri replied with a sense of self-assurance that Yasha knew he’d find annoying on anyone else, but she probably deserved. “I thought so too, but it made sense after studying how your mind reacted to the word in different contexts. In theory, it only would have worked if it was the only word said to you—it wouldn’t trigger you if it were part of a conversation, with words before or after.” She turned away, distracted by looking over the floating chart displaying Yasha’s vitals. From his angle, he could see the way his pulse was slowly returning to normal. “Your brain had to comprehend it as an individual statement; there had to be at least some kind of pause before and after for it to register that way.” 

“Hm.” Yasha hummed, some of his annoyance at the blasé treatment of his very life having dimmed. (But still.) Then a small smile curled his lips, eyes turning back to Steve. “Well done, sakharok. It’s over.”

Steve didn’t dare look away from his husband’s pale grey eyes. If he happened to be responsible for the light to leave them, proclaiming a word that could just as well be his own death sentence… yet that dreadful possibility never came to be. Instead, he was left blinking at Yasha’s indignant protest over his handlers’ choice of trigger words. Steve also turned to Shuri for the explanation, but the part of his brain that registered the potential danger it used to pose was completely overruled by the fact that it had lost its effect.

No one else could control Yasha again, that beautiful mind belonged to no one but himself – and Steve saw in the smile that filled him with warmth that the heart was still his to claim.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Forget them, none of that matters now,” he said softly, holding back for only a second before he just had to lean in and kiss the other man in a surge of relief. It took a minute of pecking familiar lips – God, but he’d missed them! – until he could pull back, breathing in deeply.

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Yasha exhaled slowly just as Steve surged forward, hitting him like (ha) a freight train. He felt himself melt right into those familiar arms, relief pounding thick and heady through his veins as the reality of what had just happened set in. He answered Steve’s kiss almost clumsily, adrenaline still high and heart slamming a staccato rhythm between them. “Styopa,” he sighed into his husband’s mouth, hand sliding up the back of Steve’s neck to grip him close. “My god, Styopa,” he breathed, a shudder running through him as he pulled back to press their foreheads together. 

He lingered for a bit before he finally pulled back, aware that they had an audience. But Shuri was smiling at them, her expression pleased and eyes a little glassy. Apparently even she wasn’t willing to tease them right then. “Thank you,” Yasha told her, voice coming low and croaky. Her smile widened further—though with an apologetic, nervous edge he hadn’t anticipated. 

That couldn’t be good.

“Of course, of course. I knew it would work, but—anyway.” She bit her lip, glancing away towards the room’s glowing screens and back again. “Should we… test any of the other triggers?” she asked, uncharacteristically skirting around what she wanted to say.

Though Yasha had a pretty good idea. He glanced at Steve’s expression, somewhat unsure how he’d react. 

Steve nodded slowly, as if he had to confirm to both of them that yes, it was real, and yes, it was over. He breathed in deeply as their foreheads rested together, air mingling between their lips that had just touched – and that was only the start, because there was no way he would be content with just one kiss. It had been long enough that shivers ran up his spine and he idly noted how warm Yasha was, no signs of ever being frozen.

It took all of his – notably poor – self-control to let them break apart, eyes still on Yasha as he talked to the princess. It was only when her voice came out hesitant that Steve turned to look at Shuri and the suggestion, however soft-spoken, had him clenching his jaw. He made sure to look away so she wouldn’t think that his annoyance was directed at her rather than at the situation.

“We should. Doesn’t make me want to,” he said with a sigh, stepping back. “But we should.” He glanced at Yasha, fingers brushing over the back of his hand before he opened the book once more.

---

Each word came with a new sense of relief, before turning to a hint of dread at the next one. It became more and more unlikely that any of them would work and Steve felt his confidence building up until they reached the last trigger word, signaled as ‘USE ONLY IF ALL ELSE FAILS. COMPLETE TERMINATION’. His lips trembled as he silently formed it, a feeble attempt to reduce its power once he said it out loud.

“Are you sure…?” He asked over his shoulder, searching for Shuri’s steady presence nearby.

“Yes, Captain. We’re positive that it won’t have any effect, but in the hypothetical event that it does, we have the means for a full reanimation.” Seeing the look in his eyes, she added, “Trust me, the Soviets don’t have what we do.”

Well, that didn’t completely soothe his worries, but they hadn’t failed so far and the word actually had never been used. It couldn’t slip through their meticulous deprogramming and as soon as he said it, those phantoms of the past would finally vanish.

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The first word fell from Steve’s lips, and the dread hit Yasha like a punch to the gut. But those kind blue eyes flicked to his face and he took a slow breath, his hand curling around the edge of the observation table. The anticipation was so powerful it made him feel nearly sick, fear roiling in his gut and growing stronger and stronger with every word. He clenched his jaw and kept his eyes on Steve, fighting against the bone-deep urge to run from the room where those words couldn’t reach him. Those words that had made him less than a man, that had made him kill children. That had almost made him kill Natasha, Steve—

His knuckles turned white, the table creaking mournfully under his grip—

He couldn’t control his breathing, panic darkening the edges of his vision with the certainty that he was about to lose himself, that the world was about to go away and that he’d wake up again with foreign memories of blood and bone—

Tovarnziy vagon.

Yasha sat still for a long moment, unmoving as a statue. Then his jaw slowly unclenched, the panic leeching out of his eyes. He pulled his hand away from the observation table, straightening from the protective hunch his posture had fallen into. There were deep impressions of his fingers in the metal.

His mind was clear. He could think for himself. 

The relief was… indescribable. 

“I am still myself,” he said, voice coming hoarse. “It—the procedure worked.” 

It felt like pulling teeth – the painful way they used to do back in the day, which again reminded him that technology wasn’t quite advanced the first time Yasha had been subjected to cryofreeze. Steve doubted that anyone had cared at the time and he could only be thankful for the new team of doctors at their disposal now. Yet as competent as they were, it wouldn’t be over until they were sure that nothing of HYDRA’s brainwashing remained behind.

He said every word in spite of the mounting anxiety that at the end of the list Yasha would snap into the compliant soldier mode. Steve recognized the same fear in his husband’s white-knuckled grip that bent the metal under his fingers, the unfocused look in his eyes that could have worried him except…

He knew how the Winter Soldier looked when he wasn’t fully in control of himself, the coldness in his gaze and the way his whole body became ready to attack – what Steve saw when he finished certainly wasn’t it. That was still Yasha, his Yasha, and when relief washed over them he almost choked on his breath.

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Everything seemed to be happening very quickly to Yasha’s sleep-addled mind. He resisted the urge to ask ‘we’re doing this now?’ It would have been different if he’d woken up to danger or action, but waking up slowly to Steve’s hand in his and Wakanda’s strangely comfortable cryo-room? He nodded slowly as Shuri showed him the book, no doubt rescued from their former home by Natasha. 

“Of course,” he replied, finally pushing himself up with his remaining arm to sit up properly. He broke Steve’s grip on his hand as he slid his legs off the observation table, stretching out and testing his limbs. No soreness, no stiffness. He felt good. And his mind… he really couldn’t tell. It felt the same as it always did: too many thoughts bumping around, unwanted and wanted memories both crammed into the corners. There was no way he could know. 

And if it hadn’t worked, there was no one better to hold control over him than Steve. Yasha met his husband’s eyes with a steady gaze, nodding once. 

No time like the present, he figured cynically. Why not. 

Steve offered his husband a sympathetic, almost apologetic little smile for their rush to confirm that the procedure had been successful. He simply wanted to get it over with and take Yasha away from that room – as nice as the Wakandan doctors were, Steve felt chills just to know that the cryo machine remained there. It could be a bit selfish of him, but he feared he would break down if he let himself get too comfortable and then something went wrong, taking the man he loved away once more.

He didn’t take the book from Shuri’s hands until Yasha maneuvered himself and gave him an encouraging nod. Steve had only handled the leatherbound piece a couple times, disgusted by the power it held, and he was counting on it to be the last.

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Six months. Even though he had expected something of the sort, actually hearing it made Yasha’s face fall slightly. But he smothered the feeling quickly enough, mouth twisting at Steve’s question. “I feel like I’ve been asleep,” he replied, a thread of confusion running through his voice. “I thought I’d be woken up right out of the chamber, as usual…?”

“Sergeant Ivanov,” Shuri greeted, apparently unable to maintain the quiet presence she’d been holding over Steve’s shoulder any longer. Yasha had barely noticed the princess with how wrapped up he’d been in seeing his husband; he blinked and gave her a slightly bemused smile and nod. “We figured it would be easier for you to wake you up gradually after the unfreezing process. We gave you a sedative produced for situations where the Black Panther might need a surgery–” Ah, that’s how. “–and ran the deprogramming process while you slept.”

“What?” Yasha asked, shocked. “You already finished–?” 

“Of course,” Shuri replied, sounding almost offended at Yasha’s question. “Did you think we’d do something that potentially damaging while you were awake? Do you have any idea how delicate your neural pathways are?” Yasha’s silence was apparently answer enough. He wasn’t sure what it was about his expression, but the teenage princess’s expression went from incredulous, to shocked, to horrified, to understanding. “Oh.”

Steve was ready to remind Yasha that there wasn’t anything usual about what they were doing, not when compared to the previous times, but he was saved from the awkwardness of it when Shuri cut in with her rapid talking. It was hard not to like the princess – all of them, really, but she was a brilliant young woman who could run circles around their brains. An outsider would surely underestimate her and Steve would gladly laugh if anyone ever tried it.

Yet as smart as she was, she didn’t have all the information about Yasha’s past. Steve’s expression turned a little alarmed, but Shuri caught up with it pretty quickly. “It’s okay, that kind of treatment will never happen again.” He would make sure of it, or die trying. “Should we finish it at last?”

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Awareness came slowly, in stages.

There was a soft buzz and a quiet murmur of voices around him, but Yasha felt safe enough to doze. It wasn’t any different from most mornings in the facility, the team’s voices filtering in through their wall. It was bright behind his eyelids, damningly so—it had to be at least noon—but Yasha didn’t want to let go of the last lingering wisps of his dreams. He knew he’d been dreaming of something important… Something that was already slipping through his fingers…

His fingers… there was a warm hand wrapped around his own, and—

Yasha’s eyes opened. His lashes fluttered against the light, but the first thing he saw was— “Styopa.” Yasha said his name, little more than a murmured sigh, hand squeezing his husband’s. It took him a moment to realize where he was—when he was—and his eyes flickered around the room before returning right to Steve. The recognition was apparent on his face. “How—” Yasha paused, clearing his dry throat. It didn’t feel like he’d been pulled out of cryofreeze, shivering and disoriented but otherwise physically exactly the same as he’d gone in. It felt like he’d been asleep for a solid day, but otherwise he felt—fine. Almost disarmingly so. His voice came quiet and hoarse when he spoke. “How long?”

Yasha had a million questions, but that was the most important. How long had he left Steve alone? His appearance gave little away—perfect as always, though his hair was perhaps a bit longer and those blue eyes looked more worn than Yasha had ever seen them. The thought made him squeeze Steve’s hand again, solid and alive.

Hearing his nickname in that tone for the first time in six long months felt like finally reaching a shore after drifting in the sea, a long gulp of pure air for lungs that had nearly drowned. A smile bloomed on Steve’s lips, eyes wrinkled at the corners with the tenderness that took over his heart as he watched his husband come to full awareness. The question that followed made his expression wilt slightly, a reminder of waking up alone every morning, but he was thankful for the grip of their joined hands to give him strength.

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To his surprise, Yasha found himself smiling at the parting shot even as he walked towards the cryo chamber, shooting the expression at Steve over his shoulder. “Someone needs to make sure the two of you don’t get yourselves into trouble,” he teased lightly, then stepped into the chamber. 

The doctor standing by had skin so black it was nearly onyx, with kind, dark eyes. He directed Yasha with gentle hands, and remained careful when he tightened the straps around his chest and legs, checking that he was comfortable. So that he wouldn’t fall when he was unfrozen, he said, with a smile. The straps were still weak enough that Yasha could have easily snapped them if he wanted to. Such small things, but what a world of difference they made.

Even as his heart pounded in anticipation, Yasha wasn’t afraid. 

He took a final look at Steve as the countdown came, memorizing his features. The set of his mouth, the way he’d brushed his hair, the blue of his eyes. “Goodnight, sakharok,” he murmured, so quietly that the words were almost swallowed by the quiet sound of the cryo chamber’s glass wall sliding up to encase him. Yasha closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and resting his head back against the chamber’s wall. It was time. 

As he exhaled, the chamber hissed; the ice overtook him, and its bite was cold and familiar. 

---

Half a year. It was long enough to go without a part of himself, an everlasting ache that pulsed along with his heartbeat. The hardships and pains endured back in the war felt like a soft night breeze when compared to the months that went by without knowing when he would be able to hold his husband again. Steve had only gone back a couple times, as there wasn’t much to do besides staring at the closed cryo machine, but Wakanda remained on the back of his mind no matter where he went.

The random missions had kept him busy – he could already hear what Yasha would say, calling him out fondly for throwing himself into the vigilante superhero job. It was all Steve could do to occupy his mind, until it finally came the day he’d been waiting for. Quickly packing up his belongings, which weren’t many while he was on the run, he’d managed to arrive at Wakanda on the eve of the last procedure.

The doctors allowed him into the room while Yasha was still asleep, already on the hospital bed that surely wasn’t as comfortable as their own – and then he was reminded that they didn’t have it anymore, unable to go back home to either of their countries. It made Steve frown, such a simple thing that he wished he could provide for the man he loved, but that seemed to be impossible for the time being.

Or perhaps that was anxiety talking, making him worry about things that weren’t all that important. He had shaved earlier that morning, concerned about his ragged appearance for the first time in many months as his mind trapped him in incessant thoughts of everything that could go wrong. What if they hadn’t been able to find a cure? Or what if they had but Yasha had forgotten all about him? What if…

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Steve was so beautiful that it was sometimes heartbreaking. Yasha’s heart stuttered when Steve looked at him through his long lashes, and he leaned up into the second kiss with a tight throat. His Steve, who he’d expected to battle him every step of the way, was being so accommodating. His Steve, who Yasha knew was going to be miserable for the next however-many months, was working so hard to support Yasha’s decision. 

He truly was the best man Yasha had ever met. 

“It is,” he agreed softly, giving Steve’s hand a squeeze and turning his head to look at the doctor Steve had turned to. Yasha gave the man a smile, which he returned, his hands suddenly in a flurry of movement on the glowing screens in front of him. The room began animating, doctors coming back to life from where they’d been quietly pretending to work, and Yasha took a sharp breath when he heard the hiss of the cryo chamber opening. 

The sound was familiar, but the machine wasn’t. No tiny glass screen in a steel coffin, no triple-reinforced restraints, no tubes, no suspended glass tube to keep him like a science experiment. A sleek design with a cushioned back. It looked gentle. It looked humane. Yasha wasn’t frightened. 

Yasha pushed off the table to stand, keeping Steve in tow as he approached the cryo chamber. “Send Natasha my love,” he said, finally letting go of Steve’s hand. “Take care of each other,” he added, a bit softer. 

Although Steve had planned to look stern and intimidating throughout it all, he couldn’t bring himself to put on any act to scare the doctors into submission. They had tolerated his questions and concerns with extreme patience and then allowed the two of them to take their time – and now he had to deliver Yasha into their capable hands. He tried not to approach as them taking his husband away, but rather helping him overcome the dangers inside his own mind.

It didn’t stop him from shivering once the cryo chamber opened. Steve didn’t quite want to step closer to it, but he followed Yasha – always would – with their hands joined… until it came the moment to let go. He stood there, hand limp at his side, hyper-aware of all the things he wanted to say but that wouldn’t change the situation. It was sweet that Yasha thought of Natasha for both of them and at once he missed her a lot more than he had in the past couple days.

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Yasha nodded slowly a Steve’s promise, his somber expression melting into something soft and sweet and private when Steve kissed his remaining hand. That had been the hardest part of what would otherwise have been a straightforward decision: not being there to watch Steve’s back. Steve, who was too impetuous by half; Steve, who was righteousness personified. Steve, who had never been able to walk away from a fight. 

He tried to push that thought from his mind. Steve had promised.

“Of course I would,” Yasha replied, lips quirking. “I assumed it was a given. You’ll be my last thought going into the ice, and I know you’ll be my first thought waking up.” He pulled Steve closer by their joined hands, between his splayed knees where he sat on the high observation table. Steve’s lips were as soft and familiar as ever when he tilted his head up for a gentle kiss. “I love you,” he said quietly when he pulled back, knowing that the time to go was almost upon them. The doctors wouldn’t say anything, but he knew that he could stay in that room with with Steve forever if given the chance.

Steve’s tender smile became more relaxed as he basked in the certainty of their love. In that moment, he could believe that everything would be fine – they had overcome other obstacles in the past and this time they would be apart exactly to protect what they had together. He gladly accepted the kiss, his free hand resting on Yasha’s waist. If they were anywhere else, he would have pulled his husband by the back of his knees to press up against him, but they had already taken care of that part of their goodbye.

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“Of course.” Yasha’s lips quirked despite himself. “Try not to pester the royal family and doctors too much while I’m sleeping. I am sure that as soon as they reach their breakthroughs, they will contact you immediately.” He held his hand out to Steve, and when their hands met he relished the familiar press of their palms together. The soft spots and the rough spots, all in harmony. 

“Promise me you will take care of yourself,” he requested quietly. “That you’ll try not to take unnecessary risks or put yourself in danger. Please.”

Steve would never admit it, but there was a hint of a pout on his lips when Yasha reassured him that he would be informed of any new discoveries. Rationally, he understood that his husband was in good hands and that they were aware of his concerns – but how often was Steve Rogers completely rational? He could simply try his best not to be overbearing, waiting for the news he wanted to hear.

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It was as though the doctors had pulled the memories of cryo straight from his mind and had doggedly endeavored to make this experience as dissimilar as possible. 

Yasha sat on the hospital bed as the doctors around them gave the machine a final check for probably the dozenth time, ostensibly to give him and Steve a few last minutes together. The day had been somewhat strained, what with how clearly Steve was trying to force himself to be supportive about something he disagreed with so wholeheartedly. Yasha’s heart ached for him. He’d be leaving Steve alone fr months at least, and the guilt gnawed at him—until he remembered just why he was putting himself away from the man he loved, and it abated. 

“I am,” he told Steve quietly, tone gentle but firm. “I can’t trust my own mind… But soon, I will be able to again.” He watched Steve’s expression, feeling calm despite everything. “And you’re ready to go for the others? Everything’s in place?” 

“I sure hope you will,” Steve replied with a glance at the team of doctors walking about. Yes, they knew much more than he did and he could probably get thrown out of the kingdom for pestering them, but he couldn’t stop himself from being protective over his husband. His eyes found Yasha’s again and he nodded in response – the truth was that there wasn’t much to prepare on his part, he had simply stalled as much as he could without feeling guilty for leaving their friends waiting.

Steve hadn’t tried to talk Yasha out of the cryofreeze plan after the first mention of it a few days before. He’d understood the intent behind it, charged with guilt as it was, and most of all he knew that Yasha could be just as obstinate, so nothing he could say would be enough to change his husband’s mind on the matter. It didn’t mean that he was happy with the idea, though, or that he believed it to be the best choice, as long as he kept those thoughts to himself.

He stood beside Yasha as the doctors prepared both the subject and the machine for the procedure, giving them a few last precious moments together. The brightly lit room, with its white walls and extremely advanced technology didn’t really feel like home and for a moment he worried that it was too chilly, until he remembered that it wouldn’t matter. It would be colder in cryo and even then Yasha wouldn’t feel anything.