#background stucky

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You had no idea what was happening. At all. You weren’t even from Wakanda. You were just supposed to be checking on Bucky, since he was in cryo-freeze to be deprogrammed from the Winter Soldier. And don’t get me wrong, Bucky was attractive and women had always been all over him. But you were always the reason they left quickly, since you were Bucky’s priority, his big sister. You could hold your own in a fight, a point that you would make to both Steve and Bucky many times over the years, all of them. When you found out your baby brother had been drafted, you immediately enlisted as a nurse. You quickly became the personal nurse for the Howling Commandos, getting into trouble with all of them as you had growing up with your brother and his best friend. Whom you had gone down on the plane with after your brother had fallen off the train.

And now, 70 some-odd years later, you are flying into a hidden country that is globally known as very poor, but is actually thriving and has the most advanced technology you’ve ever seen. And oh God, the king? Oh, the king. King T’Challa was literally the nicest person ever, after he discovered Bucky didn’t actually kill his father. Yeah, you definitely went with Steve during the Civil War, much to Tony’s dismay. But T’Challa, he was just so… you couldn’t even find the words for it, but Steve was always the poet anyway.

T’Challa had never treated you badly, but he was not as warm to you as he was to Steve, or even Bucky, and yet you had completely fallen for him. To the point where you actually dreaded coming to Wakanda to check on Bucky because you always made a fool of yourself. Every. Single. Time.

“Ms. Barnes, Captain Rogers, you are back.” T’Challa said suddenly, surprising you. “I assume you’re here for Sergeant Barnes?”

“Your Highness. I am, yes. I’m just wondering how Bucky’s doing.” You said, reiterating what he said. You closed your eyes and shook your head softly.

Steve placed his hand on your back. “It’s okay, N/N. Could we see him?”

“Of course you can. Shuri has almost finished deprogramming Sergeant Barnes, and we should be pulling him out of the ice tomorrow, if all goes well. You’re welcome to stay and be here.” T’Challa started leading you to the room Bucky was being kept in cryo in. Although you all knew he didn’t need to due to the amount of times you and Steve had visited Bucky, both separately and together.

“Stevie? Sissy?” Bucky said, sitting up in a hospital bed. T’Challa raised an eyebrow in Shuri’s direction at this new development, she only shrugged. “You guys are okay?”

“Buck.” Steve breathed out, fighting the urge to go and wrap him in the world’s biggest bear hug. You were not having the same issue, running over to Bucky and doing exactly what Steve wanted to.

“Kiddo. Buddy. Buck, you can’t ever do anything like that again, okay? We were all supposed to go home together, buddy, and all of a sudden you weren’t coming home, and then Steve and I weren’t going home either. But now we can go home. Please, Bucky, say you’ll never go again?” You were crying at this point, having missed your baby brother so much yet not having found the words to say it before, since Steve had the exact same feeling.

Bucky pulled you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. “I’m not going anywhere, dumbass. Gotta protect you and Stevie. Lord knows Steve can’t protect my big sister right. Speaking of, get your ass over here, punk. What are you waiting for?”

Steve came over to the two of you and also wrapped Bucky in a hug, kissing the top of his head. “I missed you, Buck.”

“I know you did. I missed you both too.”

“Given a few months of recovery, most of your memories should return, Sergeant.” Shuri interrupted the moment the three of you were having, but none of you minded. “The brain is a funny thing, so I cannot be sure when or if it will happen, I just have to hope that it will.”

T’Challa was standing there silently, shell-shocked. Bucky was your brother?! Your baby brother?! “I’m sorry, wait, you two are related?” He asked.

You looked at Bucky, and then you both burst out laughing. “Yes!” He said.

“I was there when you were born, I think I was either second or third to hold you, but I don’t quite remember that far back. I was young, two or three, and Daddy was off at war still.” You said, stroking Bucky’s cheek with your thumb. He nuzzled into your hand as he always did. “I remember sitting with Momma, in her hospital bed, and with her arms wrapped around my arms wrapped around you. I’m sure I wasn’t actually holding you, but that’s my first clear memory. There are little snippets from before and after, and the memory has faded over time, but I remember the first time I got to hold you. And now you’re bigger than I am.” You smiled, tears slipped down your cheeks at that memory resurfacing. It had been so long since you had had time to remember your childhood without your sisters.

“Oh, N/N.” Steve said, rubbing your back. 

Bucky pulled you back into his chest. “You’d never told me that before. I didn’t know you were there.”

You heard Shuri laugh at something T’Challa had said in their whispered argument. “Would either of you care to tell us what’s so funny about our touching reunion?” You said, muffled by Bucky’s red Henley.

Shuri, still giggling, explained. “Your last name is Barnes, so my darling brother thought you were married to the Sergeant.”

“That’s a new one.” Steve said, chuckling softly.

“I know we look nothing alike, but that is new.” You added.

Bucky was full-on giggling, which was nice to see after the events of the Civil War. “We’ve never been mistaken for being married before.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After T’Challa found out you weren’t married to Bucky, and you only shared a last name because you were his sister, he was much nicer to you. In fact, you could almost say he treated you like he was going to make you his queen. You and Steve had decided to stay in Wakanda for a few weeks to help Bucky with his memory, the new metal arm Shuri made for him, and it gave you both a break from being on the run.

Unfortunately, the entire time you had been in Wakanda, all anyone could talk about was the big birthday party they were throwing for the King. It was no surprise to him, of course, you were sure he was part of the planning committee. But it just bugged you, spending weeks talking about a fancy party that half of them weren’t even going to go to due to family issues, political reasons, or fighting with the other tribes. Bucky was going, of course, to repay T’Challa and Shuri for their kindness. So Steve was going to keep him out of trouble, and you were going to keep Steve out of trouble.

‘I had him on the ropes.’ Sure you did, Stevie. Sure you did. Steve Rogers, never one to start a fight he could actually finish. Although Steve was always picked on, he made sure he treated everyone well. He never let anyone mistreat a woman, and there were multiple times he stood up for you, even though you were closer to the guys’ height than he was.

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You glanced at T’Challa from across the room, sipping at your drink of choice. Happy birthday to him, you thought, bitterly. He gets fancy drinks, and women in nice dresses flaunting themselves, no, throwing themselves at him. They probably don’t even want to be with him, they just want the money and title. He deserves so much better. You sighed softly, making both Bucky and Steve look at you.

“Something wrong, doll?” Steve asked.

“No, no. I’m fine. I’m just a little tired.” You replied, faking a yawn to accentuate your point.

“You sure about that?” Bucky asked, wiggling his eyebrows and sticking out his tongue a little. “If looks could kill, N/N, the women swarming T’Challa would be dead.”

You rolled your eyes. “No idea what you’re talking about, brother dearest.”

He smirked. “That’s what you told me when you were in 11th grade and ‘didn’t like Tommy’. Busted.” He told you, properly using air quotes. He was catching on much quicker than you and Steve had.

“Just don’t say anything. I’m sure it’ll go away in a couple of months. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if you’re asking them not to say anything about it.” Shuri said, sitting down next to you. “Now spill the tea.” The three of you blinked in confusion. “Tell me the drama, what’s going on?” She clarified. Wow, the new generation really does have a term for everything. You looked between your brother and best friend, silently begging them not to say anything, much like when the three of you were in trouble as teenagers.

Steve, ever the snitch, broke first. “N/N likes T’Challa!” You were just happy the music didn’t stop, although suddenly if a pin dropped, anyone would hear it. The air felt thick and you felt like you were suffocating. You stood up, left the party, and walked back towards Bucky’s quarters, deciding the fresh air on the balcony near there would do you some good.

Once you got to the balcony, you sat down, put your feet up, took your heels off, and looked up at the stars. You had sat there for what felt like forever, entranced by the stars when you heard the door open behind you. “Stevie, have you ever kept a secret for longer than a minute?” You asked, assuming he was the one that followed you, probably to apologize, knowing Steve.

“Sorry to disappoint, Miss Barnes, but I am not Captain Rogers.” T’Challa said from behind you.

“Oh, Your Majesty.” You said, standing. “I’m so sor-”

T’Challa put his hand up to stop you. “Please don’t apologize, Miss Barnes. Your feelings are requited. That is why I was not as warm to you as I was to the Captain and the Sergeant. The most gorgeous lady I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. Married to Sergeant Barnes? Impossible. I was overjoyed when I discovered the two of you were merely siblings.”

“Bucky’s a good-looking dude, Your Highness. It’s not that hard to believe, other than the fact that he’s been in love with Steve since he was.. 13. Those two are idiots in love, especially since Steve’s been in love with Bucky from the first time they met.”

“How did you manage to miss the entire point I was trying to make?” He asked, chuckling and shaking his head. You sat back down, looking up at the stars.

“It just doesn’t seem real. A king falling for an army nurse out of her time?” You said, tracing the constellations Bucky had told you about as a teenager with your index finger.

T’Challa recognized it, “Ursa Major?”

You nodded. “I had the unfortunate pleasure of babysitting Bucky while doing my homework. He was obsessed with the stars, I had to take him to the library every week to get a new book about them. He learned about all the constellations, I would help him find the ones we could. I don’t know if more have been found, or if he even remembers, but I do. The stars helped me find him.”

“That’s lovely.” He said, sitting next to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, T’Challa had finally asked if he could kiss you. You allowed it.

“May I take you to bed, my queen?”

“Of course, my king.”

The quiet captain had been the one to introduce them, calling the dark haired man with the haunted eyes Bucky. When those eyes swung to her, to the metallic parts, likely as familiar to him as his was to her, she saw it.

The understanding.

A deep understanding that no one else had ever looked at her with.

She had remained in Wakanda with him even when her sister and the other Guardians chose to leave the planet behind them.

She had wanted time, time to rest, to heal, to perhaps find a way forward, a new purpose now that Thanos had been sent to the nether and, not surprisingly, Gamora had understood and accepted her decision without question.

And Bucky, quiet and gentle soul marred by tragedy, had suggested Wakanda was a place she would be safe until she was ready to continue on whatever path awaited her.

So she stayed. In Wakanda. With Bucky.

It was easy, she found, to love him.

As easy as loving Gamora was.

As a child, all she had wanted was a sister, had fought so hard for it, had lost so much for that desire, but now she had something she had never once dreamt of.

A brother.

When they could not sleep, on nights when the darkness seemed to claw at them, the memories too much, they would talk. At first it was about foolish things. Bucky's goats. Nebula's dislike of Wakandan fruits. But then, slowly, they told one another of their pasts. Of the darkness, the taint, they would forever carry no matter how much they had changed. What they learned of each other, of the shared similarities in their pasts, deepened their bond.

Bucky took to calling Nebula Nebs, a nickname, something just between them. Like how he alone called the quiet, golden captain Stevie

She asked, once, about the captain. About the relationship between him and her Bucky and Bucky had gotten the same goofy smile Gamora wore when she spoke of Quill. Love. It was love. And when she said as much, Bucky nodded, looking off across the sea of green grass to where his Stevie was trying, and failing, to herd goats with some of the local children.

It was an easy life. An easy routine. Peaceful.

So it was easy to forget that there was life beyond the quiet village they called home.

And then some foul Kree decided to attack, to target what he thought was a simple hide away, seeking to avenge his fallen friend, Ronan, targeting Nebula as a traitor against the deranged warlord.

It had not been difficult, between her and Bucky and Stevie and the Wakandan King, to defeat the rogue Kree, but in doing so Nebula was forced to confront yet another stain from her past. It riled her in a way she could not properly explain. Angered her that her past, her decisions, had put people she had come to care for in danger. In her rage she had destroyed one of the flying vessels the Wakandans used for transport before storming off to the house she shared with her brother and his quiet captain.

Once there she found she had no direction, no purpose, nothing to direct her anger too and so, instead, she screamed until she could scream no more.

Bucky found her, not long after, curled up on the floor, arms wrapped so tightly around herself her fingers were leaving tiny bruises in her skin.

"Nebs, hey, Nebs," Bucky spoke quietly, crouching down, reaching out to pull her against him, tucking her against his chest, arms wrapping protectively around her. "It's okay, Nebs. It's okay."

Nebula let out a frustrated, almost broken, sound.

"They could have all died," she said, nose wrinkling, tears prickling with unshed tears. "You could have died. Because of me. Because of what I have done."

Bucky pressed a quick kiss to her temple.

"We managed to take him down so quickly because of you," he reminded. "Because of what you knew about Krees. You are why no one died today. You were a hero today, Nebs."

Nebula said nothing, curling closer, one hand clutching at Bucky's arm, trying to believe what he was saying, but she didn't feel like a hero. She had brought danger to a place that had offered her safety and peace. She had endangered people she had, in her own way, chosen to protect.

Bucky, for all that he was a quiet soul, was also very knowing and saw through her silence, saw the heart of her turmoil, as he so often did.

"You are not to blame for what happened," Bucky said, hugging her a little closer. "You are not to blame for that madman's decisions. Just like you aren't to blame for the shit Thanos did to you."

Nebula twitched and let out a low sound.

"You're not to blame for other people's cruelty, Nebs." Bucky reached up to tip her chin up, to get her to look at him rather than hide as she had been doing. "You fought, bravely, fiercely, to protect this place, to protect those girls. You saved them. You refused to give up or run away. You ran into battle, like a warrior, and fought to protect those you care for. You fought for them.That's what a hero does. Not a monster. A hero."

Nebula started to smile when the door opened.

"Hey," the captain's voice, normally calming, grated on her already frayed nerves and, Bucky's chosen beloved or not, it irritated her that he was invading on their private moment. "Everything okay?"

"Out," Nebula snarled suddenly, shooting the blonde man a sharp and brittle look. "You and my brother may celebrate the victory later! You. Out. Now."

Stevie, thankfully, was unfazed by her growling. He had been on the receiving end of it many times, even commented a time or two that Nebula probably was Bucky's sister because their tempers were pretty much the same. So, instead of fleeing like most men would have, he walked over, shared a quick kiss with Bucky, murmuring that he'd check on the goats and to take all the time they needed.

Bucky smiled and returned his attention to Nebula as Stevie left, quietly closing the door behind him.

"Better now, Nebs?" He teased lightly and Nebula huffed, curling closer to him, tucking her head to his shoulder.

"Better," she murmured, eyes slipping closed. "He may be your beloved but you are my brother."

She felt Bucky's smile widen against her temple when he pressed a kiss there again.

"Not going anywhere, Nebs," he said softly, rubbing a hand over her back. "I got your back. Always, little sis."

Nebula hummed and let the warmth of his embrace, the warmth of his love and acceptance and understanding, help sooth her concerns.

Phil loves the park, so when their schedules line up Nat and Sam take him to chase frisbees and squirrels. Phil loves Steve the most (“What’d you ever do for him?” Sam asks, complaining; his socks are wet again. Steve just shrugs) because Steve throws frisbees the farthest.

One day Steve throws a frisbee into a tree, and Phil barks at it and a squirrel pokes out to see what’s going on. Sam has to carry Phil around the park five times before he calms, and even then he only stops barking because Nat gives him jerky.

“He might be hopeless,” Bucky observes, holding a huge ice cream cone in one hand and Phil in the other. There’s a splatter of rocky road on his shirt.

Nat says, grinning, “I’ve always liked hopeless cases.” She puts her arm around Sam’s waist and looks up at him. Her eyes crinkle. “Why d’you think we started dating?”

“Oh, that’s cold,” Sam says. But he’s laughing along with Bucky.

______

At night when he can’t sleep Sam wonders how much of this is about not being able to biologically have kids.  They’ve talked about it a little but only in the most glancing of terms, and even more vaguely about adoption. He thinks they’d be okay parents. At the very least, they’d know nothing’s getting to their child.

But at the same time, adopting as superheroes is not the easiest thing. Steve and Bucky have been on the list for years, and Sam knows how much it cuts them up to be rejected time and time again. They check off every box—being superheroes, they know how to protect a child, they’ve got the money, they’ve got a stable home—but, being superheroes, there isn’t really ever a safety guarantee. For all anyone knows, Steve and Bucky could adopt and then be killed in some accident, and their kid would be parentless again.

Dogs are a different story. Nat’s curled around him, and he’s got his arm around her (she called being little spoon tonight), and Phil kicks in his sleep by their feet. Sam pulls her closer to him and she sleepily mumbles something about a puffer fish running a driving school. Phil whines at something in his dream.

Dogs are different. If nothing else, they can have this.

______

“He’s looking better,” Steve comments one day in June. They’re at the park again, a rare day when the four of them aren’t on call unless absolutely necessary, and Phil just came when called for the eighth time.

“Isn’t he?” Nat says. “Isn’t he the best puppy you’ve ever seen?” She fluffs Phil’s fur and he licks her palm and she laughs.

She’d had a nightmare that morning. She’d slipped out from bed at some point before six; he’d found her and Phil on the couch watching Say Yes to the Dress around six fifteen.

Sam draws a pattern on her back. “He is the best puppy.”

He thinks Bucky and Steve exchange a worried look, but he can’t tell.

They ask him about it later.

“Is she okay?” Bucky asks, his voice low. “Are you?”

Steve crosses his arms in concern, waiting.

Sam says, “It happens fairly often. For both of us. Hers are quieter than mine.”

Steve does the thing where his eyebrows pinch together and make his smile a million times sadder than usual. He takes Bucky’s hand and squeezes Sam’s shoulder. “If you want to talk,” he says.

“Thanks.”

______

“Chinese?” Sam asks over the phone.

There are explosions on her end. “Sounds good,” she says, a little breathless.

He puts the remote down and sits up. Phil jumps into his lap, and he pets him absently. “Nat, are you okay?”

“I’ve got it handled.”

“I know. Wasn’t the question.”

Phil noses his hand; he’d stopped petting him. Sam closes his eyes and scratches behind his ear. “Nat?”

Gunshots. “I’m fine,” and she sounds exasperated enough that he believes her. “Just a minor drug bust.” More gunshots. “Okay, maybe a major one.”

“Be safe,” he says, because it has to be said.

“I will be,” she replies.

They hang up. He orders Chinese.

______

Every other Friday is their date night, which used to mean candlelit dinners in a new city every night. Now, however, they’ve gotten into the habit of taking Phil to a picnic in the park when the weather’s nice enough.

It’s only fair to repay him, Sam thinks. Nat blows bubbles for Phil while Sam watches from the blanket. It’s only fair. They haven’t had as many nightmares recently; Sam’s most recent one was on the Fourth of July (fireworks), but he hasn’t had any since then. He’s pretty sure it’s thanks to Phil.

Nat’s have decreased in frequency too, and he knows it’s thanks to Phil. She’s so much calmer now.

She’s laughing and the sky’s so blue, and they’re together, and they can have this. He smiles.

“Come play!” Nat calls, her eyes crinkled, and he hops to his feet.

He runs toward them and Phil yips at him and jumps at his chest, and Sam catches him and Nat all at once. She shrieks, laughing, and Phil barks madly. Sam pats Phil on the head.

Sam can hold them both for a while, probably, but Nat shifts to look at him and they tumble to the ground before he can readjust.

“Sorry,” Nat says, her voice breathless. She landed on his chest.

Phil sniffs around Sam’s head as he says, “Nothing to be sorry for.”

Nat smiles. She snuggles close to his chest, and they would’ve fallen asleep like that if Phil hadn’t peed on Sam’s shoes.

______

Sam hasn’t told her yet. He watches as Nat alternates between baking a pie and throwing knives at their dartboard, and Steve and Bucky are coming over soon, and he’s just realized he hasn’t told her yet.

Her fifth knife shivers in the bulls-eye before she says, “What?”

“What what?” He hurriedly pushes off from the counter to check the fridge. Phil trots up to him, and he pets him.

Nat does her superspy thing where she makes her voice all neutral and narrows her eyes a little. She opens the oven and says, “You’re looking at me funny. Not the good kind of funny, you know, the ‘oh, teach me your ways’ funny. Weird funny.”

“I love you,” Sam blurts out.

The kitchen grows heavy somehow.

He looks at her, and she’s biting her lip.

Great, he’s messed up—

“What?” He thinks she might be about to cry; her voice sounds tight. Phil plods over to her now and she picks him up, even though he’s too big now to be properly picked up.

Sam closes the fridge and leans against it. “That’s what I was thinking,” he says, and it’s a lot to keep his voice stable. “I hadn’t told you, but I wanted to. I love you.”

“Sam,” Nat says, and she’s definitely crying a little now. But her eyes are crinkling. “We’ve been dating for seven months.” She closes the distance between them, still carrying Phil, and says, “I figured. And you talk in your sleep.”

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. His heart is beating very, very fast.

Phil whines until Nat brings him close enough to lick Sam’s hand. She’s smiling. There are still some tears in her eyes, but he thinks they’re happy tears.

The timer goes off for the oven. Nat hands him Phil and pulls out the pie and tilts her head. It’s wonky; one half of the crust crumbled in the oven somehow, and some of the filling spilled over the edge.

“It’s just like us,” she comments. Then: “When are Steve and Bucky coming over?”

He checks the clock on the stove, heart still pounding. “In five minutes.”

The doorbell rings. Phil charges to it like he’s going to break it down.

“We brought pizza!” Bucky calls. They hear something plastic shuffling outside, and then Steve’s voice.

“And thumbprint cookies, and soda!”

Nat looks at the pie and then at him and quirks a smile. “I love you, too,” she says, and runs over quickly to kiss him, and then goes to open the door.

Steve and Bucky almost get stuck in the door (“Get off me,” Bucky says, and pretends to elbow Steve in the ribs) and set their bags on the counter, Phil wagging his tail behind them. Sam scoops him up even though he’s too big, and Nat comes up next to him. They listen to Bucky tell them about a plum pie recipe and Sam takes her hand. He presses a kiss to her palm, and she leans into his side.