#g.romance

"You're leaving me, aren't you?" You say as you stand in the kitchen with your back facing him.

It's silent for a moment before Steve speaks.

"It doesn't feel over between Peggy and me."

The sound of her name makes you grip the counter tightly. 

"Right, because she's your leading lady," he hears you mumble, and before he even has a chance to say anything to that, you speak again.

"Go then," you're still not looking at him. 

He starts to say your name, but you turn around, your eyes narrowing with anger as your arms are crossed. 

"Go!" You scream at him, but Steve hasn't budged from his spot, and you let out an empty chuckle. 

"How funny," you shake your head. "Here I was, convincing you I wouldn't leave. And now you've built this half-baked life with me before you're the one leaving."

Steve takes a step towards you, but you hold your hand out in front of you to stop him.

"Get out," you tell him, the anger leaving your eyes. "Good luck to you, Steve Rogers. I hope your movie has the happy ending you wanted."

You turn back around, clearly ending the conversation and no longer wanting to see his face.

And with clenched fists, Steve turns to leave. 

His reunion with Peggy had been passionate just as he imagined it would be. 

But things no longer felt like they clicked in place the same way they had in high school and university. 

A broken heart, time, and you had changed him.

And no matter how much he pestered Bucky, he would not tell Steve where you were. 

Steve found very quickly that you had left the city and changed your number. He couldn't find you anywhere on social media either.

If not knowing that Bucky still went to see you, Steve would think you didn't exist. 

As much as Steve searched, he was still unsure of what he would do if he did find you.

There was still a part of him that loved Peggy, that felt the joy of her coming back because she loved him. 

But there was a large part of him that felt the hole of your absence that even Peggy could not fill.

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"I'm so sorry I can't be your date tonight."

You chuckle as you transfer your phone to your other ear as you flitter around.

"It's really fine, Bucky. Showing up alone will hardly do anything except bruise my ego. Besides, it's not your fault you're caught at work yourself. Everything is okay, right?" You lean a little closer to your mirror to apply lipstick. 

Bucky groans through the phone, causing you to lightly laugh.

"Yeah, just last-minute deal coming through. I can probably pick you up after the event? You can crash at my place since you said your furniture hasn't arrived yet, right?"

"Ugh, don't remind me. How did my bed and couch become the last things to arrive? They should be the first!"

You hear Bucky's throatily chuckle and some noise in the background, and you know he has to go.

"I'll catch you later, doll," he bids you goodbye and hangs up. 

You sigh as you set your phone down on the counter and look in the mirror. 

You didn't think you'd ever come back to town, but you're only here for a couple months to work on a project on a merger for your company. It had been very last minute with the original person being poached by another company.

And as a celebration, they're hosting a charity event tonight. Bucky was going to be your date, but with work catching him last minute, you were left to defend yourself. 

You look out the window, frowning.

You had chosen an area where there were no memories of Steve. Nothing to pass by that would remind you of him.

And yet, the absent things to remind you of Steve is still a reminder of him. 

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Steve adjusts his tie. He looks around the extravagant decorations and room filled with men in business suits and women in their gowns. 

He doesn't say it, but he kind of hates when Peggy takes him to these kinds of events. He doesn't quite feel like he belongs, even if it's for a good cause. 

It doesn't help that Peggy has left him to his lonesome to network. 

He stands at the bar with a drink in hand as he surveys the area, but then the lights dim as they focus on the stage from across the room. 

Heels click against the wooden floor, and Steve's breath stops.

Denial is the first thing that Steve feels. 

Because it can't be. It's been two years, and this wouldn't be the first time Steve thought about you so much that he conjured a mirage. 

There's a sharp ache in his chest, and for a second, Steve wonders if the room is spinning.

You look different. 

Good, but different. 

You walk with an air of confidence you've always had, but your hair is no longer the same length. 

Two years does change a person, Steve bites his tongue. 

You're making a speech on stage about the merger, and Steve realizes you're the representative for the other company Peggy has been talking about merging with. 

Steve looks over to Peggy, who looks equally as shocked and locks eyes with him.

He shouldn't stare, Steve knows, but his eyes can't help but wander back to you. You don't seem to notice him as the speech ends with polite applause, and you walk down the steps to mingle with the crowd.

You're different, but in some ways, still the same. 

Like how you stand there in your heels, your right foot lightly crossing behind your left, an indication you're feeling tired in the heels. The way you run your fingers through your hair tells him you've long lost interest in the conversation. 

The night passes on, and Steve stays rooted at the bar. He doesn't know what he should do. 

A part of him itches to immediately run up to you, but another part is paralyzed with fear. 

And near the end of the night, it seems Steve doesn't have to decide anymore as you tiredly approach the bar a couple feet from him and order a glass of water. 

It happens so fast.

You're walking away, but someone bumps into you, causing you to stumble backward. His feet move before Steve can even think, and he grabs the back of your arms to steady you.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry--" You turn around, face immediately registering shock as you come face to face with those familiar piercing blue eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

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"Are you fucking kidding me?"

You must've done something terrible in your past life because you don't know how to else to explain the bad luck of running into Steve Rogers here, at a work event, of all places. 

You had thought you had seen him earlier when you first arrived, but when you looked again, he was gone, and you were convinced you were just seeing things.

Evidently, that was not the case. 

"What are you doing here?" You hiss quietly as you stand up straight, jerking yourself out of his hands. 

Steve purses his lips like he doesn't want to say the next words.

"Peggy works for the other company."

You scrunch your brows because you don't remember seeing Peggy's name on the list of people you'd be working wi--

But then it hits you.

Margaret Carter was the name on the document, and you want to curse right into the sky. 

"I see."

You don't have anything else to say, surprisingly. The shock is wearing out, and you feel your legs shaking. You're trying to not look at Steve. One glimpse was enough to burn his image right into your retinas. 

For the most part, Steve looks the same. His hair has grown out a little more, and he's clean-shaven tonight. But still, there's a boyish charm in his eyes along with the crinkles when he smiles. 

It's been two years, you remind yourself.

You're over him, you tell yourself. 

But the tight ache in your chest and trembling legs tell you otherwise. 

You turn to leave, not even breaking a stride when Steve calls your name. You slam your water back, leaving the empty glass at a random table as you pass by it. 

Steve is forced to stop himself when you approach different people to bid them goodnight. Even with Peggy offering her goodbyes and he should be by her side, it doesn't stop Steve from waiting for you. 

You finish, breaking off to leave again.

"Wait-" Steve grabs your arm outside. 

You immediately turn and yank your arm out of his grasp.

"What?" You cross your arms as you look at Steve. 

"I just..." Steve starts, but he's already panicking because he doesn't know what to say. 

It feels like a dream that you're in front of him. His heart is beating so harshly in his chest, and he's so nervous about letting you go again.

"You just what?" You tilt your head. "Want to talk and catch up? I have nothing to say to you, Steve."

Steve frowns. "You have nothing to say? You left without even saying anything."

You scoff at him. "And what? You expected me to say something to you?  Did you think you were going to get a long love letter detailing how you broke my heart and how being in the same city as you is too much for me to handle?"

Steve seemed to soften as you said that, which only served to piss you off even more.

While you were angry the night everything ended, you hadn't shown you were hurt.

A familiar car pulls up, and Bucky gets out of the driver seat, shocked at the scene before him.

"I'm sor--" Steve starts to say, but you hold your hand up to stop him.

"Save your apologies, Steve. I get it. After all, nobody likes someone who can't understand life happens."

The words ring in his ears like he's been boxed right in the head.

You turn around and head down the stairs to Bucky, who puts his coat around you. He looks at Steve, nodding in greeting, but doesn't move to do anything else. 

Bucky opens the passenger door for you, hand at the top of the door to make sure you don't hit your head as you get in.

Nodding goodbye to his friend, Bucky head around the car, getting in himself before driving off. 

And Steve is stuck watching the scene of you driving away from him.

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The entire ride back to Bucky's was silent, and you were thankful for it.

Bucky had always had the skill of telling when it was time to talk and when not to talk.

And this was definitely a time to not talk.

You were frazzled.

Even though two years have passed and you no longer cry about Steve Rogers, seeing him in person had taken you off guard.

By the time you had reached Bucky's place, changed, and did your nightly routine before jumping into bed next to Bucky, you felt like you were ready to talk.

Bucky closed his book and put it away before he leaned over onto his side as he rested on his elbow, glancing down at you.

"Well," Bucky licks his bottom lip, "tell me what's on your mind, doll."

You fidget under the blanket as you lie on your side facing Bucky, even if your view is mostly his chest.

"I saw Steve today," you start off, tapping your index finger against the mattress. "I was surprised."

Bucky hummed, not saying anything, so you had to continue on.

"I'm...scared," you admit with a sigh. 

"Why?"

"Because now I have to work with Peggy, and I'm scared I'll start to see Steve around more."

Bucky shifts, moving his legs around underneath the blankets. He takes off his reading glasses and puts it onto his nightstand. 

He sits up, and you follow. Bucky stares at you, almost like he's studying your face.

"So what if you see Steve around more?" He finally says. "Doll, it's been two years. I know. I know he broke your heart. But he doesn't deserve to steal more years from you."

You let Bucky's words fall over you like a warm blanket that reminds you you're not the same girl who fell head over heels for Steve like a fool. 

"You're right," you breathe. 

"That I am, now get some sleep," he smiles at you.

You yawn as Bucky pulls up the blanket a little more over your shoulder, and you feel your eyes drooping.

"Goodnight," you say softly.

Bucky's eyes soften as he looks down at your sleeping form.

"Sweet dreams."

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Three weeks have passed. 

There's an agitation that has settled over Steve that won't seem to go away. Peggy has, of course, noticed, but she remains silent regarding it. 

Steve was trying his best to remain normal, but there was a distance to him. His mind was drifting, and he sometimes spent hours a day going on a run.

It felt like there was a sickness to him. He would visit Peggy at work more often, dropping off her lunch or to say hi. Anything that would give Steve a reason to see you. 

It was painful, Steve felt. There wasn't that anger that was there the night he first saw you. 

You walked by Steve, sometimes ignoring him or giving a slight nod of your head to acknowledge his existence. But it felt like you were indifferent to him.

Like he was nothing to you.

And that had hurt Steve more than he thought it would. 

But even if it caused him pain, he couldn't stop. The need to see you, to remind himself that you're here, was too strong. 

Steve knew, deep down, that this feeling was an answer to him. He knew it was because when he was in bed next to Peggy at night, that emptiness that once hollowed his chest was starting to feel filled by your presence. 

But there was a new heaviness that settled in his chest. 

The one that was filled with regret and longing for you.

And Steve didn't know what to do with that.

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Don't look.

You laugh at something a director in another department says, tilting your head back slightly with your hand over your mouth. 

Don't look. 

You turn to Bucky and smile as he pours you more wine in your glass, and you grab some more food onto your plate to share with him.

Don't look. 

You stab a piece of food with your fork and put it into your mouth as you chew diligently. You're trying to ignore the eyes that keep wandering to you from the corner.

You hate these events. 

Company dinners where everyone goes to a late-night pub for drinks and food to get to know each other are the worst.

It's in a casual setting, and you can't really go anywhere.

It doesn't help that you're stuck in the same fucking table as Steve and Peggy.

You're lucky you had Bucky this time to accompany you. 

There's a weird tension that has settled around the table, but no one seems to notice it except you, Bucky, Steve, and Peggy. 

You've avoided looking at the couple, only talking to Peggy when it was absolutely necessary for work. 

"Ah," the director smiles with red cheeks from drinking too much. "Steve, my boy, it's been much too long since we've seen you come out."

You focus on your food and, occasionally, Bucky's face.

"Yeah," he laughs, "it's been a little crazy at work for the last while, but things are starting to settle in."

"Good, good," The director laugh. "Perhaps that means you can finally propose to Peggy here. I think she's waited long enough!"

The whole table tenses, but it's not like the director realizes. 

Peggy smiles contritely as she leans more into Steve while he awkwardly laughs. 

The director doesn't even notice the lack of answer from Steve as he turns his attention onto you.

"And you, little missy," he grins, "seems like you've got yourself a fine young man here!"

You smile awkwardly.

"We're not--" You start to say, but Bucky throws his arm around you and dramatically pulls you into him.

"You hear that, baby doll?" He wriggles his brows at you. "I'm a fine young man and all yours. How lucky."

You laugh at his ridiculousness as you pick up a pretzel and throw it at him. 

"Shut up, old-timer," you joke. 

"Old-timer?" Bucky exclaims, looking offended. "That hurts...that hurts deep."

You roll your eyes, but the director laughs before another person calls him and Peggy to their table to chit-chat. Sighing in relief, you look at Bucky again, who has a boyish grin on his face, and you roll your eyes.

"Troublemaker," you shake your head with a smile. "I'm going to head to the washroom, be right back."

Bucky nods as he lifts his arm from your shoulder, and you get up to go, eyes barely passing Steve as you leave. 

You take your time in the washroom, wash your hands slowly, and leisurely check yourself out in the mirror to ensure everything is still in place.

You feel that you've been here a respectable amount of time, and you're determined to go back to tell Bucky you want to leave.

Looking once more in the mirror, running your hand through your hair, you sigh as you exit the washroom. 

Just before you can walk further down the hallway, you feeling someone grab your wrist.

"Hey-" You start to say before you turn your head and see it's Steve who's pulling you the opposite direction back to the table.

"What are you doing?" You scowl as Steve reaches the back exit and opens the door and pulls you through it. 

Your back is immediately against the wall as Steve places one arm above your head and his other hand beside your arm.

His face is so close to yours that you can smell pinewood and honey. It immediately makes your stomach drop as you register the scent, and flashbacks of the past come to you. 

You swallow as you lock eyes with him. 

"What do you want?" You ask again in a low tone. 

"Are you dating him?"

Your brows furrow. "Dating who?"

"Bucky."

A chuckle of disbelief leaves your mouth before you can stop it as you turn your head to the side, rolling your eyes.

"Who I'm dating is none of your business," you turn your head back at him, face stone cold. 

"Between us, you don't think you dating my best friend is any of my business?" Steve huffs.

You huff back at him. 

"No," you contritely say, "I don't. Because Bucky is my best friend too. We all grew up together."

You lift your hands to push Steve off you, standing up straight as he stumbles a few steps back. "And there is no 'us.' You destroyed anything that could be 'us' the moment you went back to Peggy."

Silence falls over the two of you, and Steve not saying anything. The way he looks at you, like he can't let you out of his sight, both hurts and pisses you off. You let out a scoff in the back of your throat.

And it comes to you that maybe he may never get it.

"You are so selfish, Steve Rogers," you breathed. "I loved you."

Steve clenched his jaw as he heard the words. "I--"

"No, Steve. I loved you," you cut him off and emptily chuckled. "Since we were 15, I've been in love with you."

The words feel like they've hit Steve in the gut as he takes a step back. 

That long?

You've been in love with him all those years?

"But you never--"

"Said anything? What was I supposed to say? You were pining over Peggy, and then your dream came true when you started dating her shortly after," you looked away. 

"I was okay with that," you said softly before you turned back to him. "I would've been okay with wishing you happiness from the sidelines."

"Then why did you..." Steve's voice trails. 

"She left you," you told him simply. "She left you, and you thought your whole world ended. I wanted to show you that there was a life after Peggy. I loved you so much, I would've done anything for you."

Steve feels his throat closing up because everything from two years ago comes rushing back. 

The pain of Peggy leaving him.

The night you kissed him. 

The times you've slept together.

The night he asked you to be his, and your choked cry of happiness. 

The first fight and how you held his hand and reassured him you were there to stay. 

The night he left you. 

And Steve feels like such an idiot for not seeing it all along. 

"And then you left me," you swallowed. "I thought my world ended too. But it hasn't. And not that you have any right to know, I'm not dating Bucky."

There's a wave of relief that floods Steve as he visibly exhales, but you pretend you didn't see it. 

"It doesn't make a difference, though, Steve," you softly say. "Dating or not dating, just as you did, I've learned what life is like after you."

With nothing left to say, you turn and open the door, leaving Steve to stand alone. 

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The answer becomes clearer as time passes. 

Steve tries to take his time coming to a decision because he's already hurt you so much, and he doesn't want to hurt Peggy more than he has to. 

But deep down, Steve knows his answer. The gaping hole in his chest at night has been different ever since he left you, and has been different since you came back. 

It's late at night when Steve returns back to his place with Peggy. He finds her sitting in the kitchen with the lights off, and Steve's breath hitches, knowing that she was waiting for him.

Steve's been trying his best to remain the same despite the turbulence within him.

"Peggy..."

"It's over, isn't it?" Despite the gravity of the words, Peggy says it softly. 

He looks at her back; the only light is the moon illuminating the room through the windows.

"Yeah," Steve replies softly, "it is."

Peggy stands, turning around, and it's the first time Steve has ever seen tears in her eyes.

His heart clenches. 

"I thought you loved me," Peggy clenches her jaw. 

"I did--I do," Steve exhales, "but I'm not in love with you anymore."

It's silent as Peggy takes in the words.

"What changed?"

"I think you know," Steve gives her a half-hearted smile.

Peggy shuts her eyes tightly, pursing her lips.

"I came back for you," she opens her eyes and looks at him. 

"I know," Steve's hands clench shut.  

"Then you know what I gave up for you," Peggy knows it's the wrong words, but she's desperate to make Steve stay.

Steve takes a deep breath because he's known Peggy a long time and what those words truly meant. Even if Steve sometimes feels like his relationship with Peggy is a constant reminder that she considered she had to give something up to be with him. 

"I thought I'd lost everything after losing you," Steve starts. "You were my leading lady, and I thought my movie had ended without a happy ending."

Peggy stays silent.

"But then someone showed me that there was a sequel," Steve gave her a sad smile. "I tried to put you back as my leading lady because it felt like things weren't over."

"How do you know if it really is?" Peggy asks.

The truth is that Peggy knows it's over, perhaps it was over the moment she had left him. She wasn't blind.

Though Peggy had come back, Steve was different. And while she didn't doubt he loved her, he had a wall up with her. Even as the two years passed, Peggy couldn't break through that wall. 

And Peggy knows it was because of you.

But she had still hung on.

Truth is, you never really know when it's truly over. But when Steve closes his eyes, he thinks of you.

Just you.

"I guess," Steve licks his bottom lip, "when I think about being with someone and fighting to make it work no matter what...you're not that person I see with anymore."

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It's getting worse as time passes. 

The company merge project has come to an end, and you feel relief. It's hard to believe a couple months have already passed. 

You thought you could live in this city again, but you think it might be best to move back.

Your phone vibrates on the table, and you stare down to see Steve's number again. Steve has been calling you repeatedly for weeks and weeks, apparently having grabbed your number from one of your coworkers. 

You had heard from fellow coworkers that he and Peggy broke up, though sometimes you wondered if it was true since Peggy showed up to work like nothing was wrong. 

But she had always been much stronger than you. 

You picked up the first time because you didn't recognize the number, but then you swiftly hung up.

Steve kept calling, but you would watch it ring. 

SNAP.

You look up to see Bucky, who snapped his fingers in front of your face.

"Sorry," you cough. "What were you saying?" 

Bucky purses his lips. 

Perhaps it's watching you stare at your phone, whether it's ringing or not, or maybe it's watching you talk about how you need to move. Whatever it is, Bucky has reached his limit. 

"Why?" He asks.

"Why what?" You tilt your head.

"If you're really over him, why do you need to move?" Bucky sounds frustrated, and you're taken aback. 

All this time, Bucky has always been gracious with you, comforted you, and patient.

But perhaps even he has a limit.

"You know why," you say slowly.

Bucky huffs, one hand on his hip while his other holds his forehead.

"No," he shakes his head, "I don't. I really don't. You keep talking about your life after Steve, but I don't see that. You're still all about him. Even moving on from him is about him."

"Bucky--"

"No," Bucky cuts you off. "It's been two years, and you're still running from him."

"What do you want me to do?" You snap at him.

"Be honest!"

"What do you want me to say? That I don't know how to face him without feeling like I'm losing him all over? That even though it's been two years, I still have to actively think about not thinking about him to make it through the day? And the only way I know how to move on is to be as far away as possible because I can't ever reach a point of indifference with him? Is that what you wanted to hear--"

Suddenly, Bucky's lips are on yours as he cups your jaw.

It lasts only a moment before he pulls back. Your eyes blink open, and Bucky's face is still close to yours.

"Be honest," he whispers, "Do you even want to move on, or did you hope that these were his lips?"

"Bucky..." You start to say as he pulls back further, dropping his hands. 

You don't even know what to say.

"Don't," he quirks his brow, "I only kissed you to make a point."

"Well, that's a dickhead move," you scoff. 

"I've actually been described as a fine young man, thank you very much," Bucky gives you a smirk before getting serious again. "But either way, the point still stands. You can't keep running. You need closure because it's not really over, isn't that right?"

You don't say anything. 

Bucky lifts his hand, ruffling your hair as you scrunch your face. He walks to the door, turning the knob before he turns back to you.

"I'm going to head out, but you know what you need to do, right? I'll only come to help you pack after you talk with Steve again."

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Hours pass.

And you're a coward. 

What you should've done after Bucky left was call Steve immediately to say you wanted to talk, but you couldn't bring yourself to do that.

Now it was dark, and you were only driving yourself insane. 

"Fuck it," you huff to yourself as you grab your keys as you leave through your door. You go down the stairs quickly, your mind racing as you try to think about what you're going to say. The moment you leave your building, you see Steve sitting on the steps. 

His back was facing you, but the second he heard the door open, he turned around.

"Steve...?" You furrow your brows. 

He immediately stands up, looking flustered at seeing you suddenly.

"Hi," he says and then immediately cringes at himself. 

"How did you know where I lived?" You eye him.

"Bucky," Steve answers simply. 

"Of course," you huff. "How long have you been waiting out here?"

"Um," Steve shrugs, "four hours?"

Your eyes widen. That was just a little after Bucky left.

"Why didn't you ring the buzzer?" You ask.

"Well, since you're not picking up my calls...I didn't know if you would let me in," Steve sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

You sigh, knowing that was probably true. 

"I guess this is good timing," you say as you look at Steve, "I was coming to find you anyway."

The roads are quiet, the only sound coming from one of the streetlights flickering. It takes everything in you to say what you're about to say while facing Steve. 

And you hate that looking at him somehow makes saying it easier.

"I still love you," you breathe, feeling a strange weight being lifted off your chest as you admit it.

Steve feels his chest expand full of hope as his eyes light up.

"But I want to move on."

And Steve feels his stomach drop. 

He looks at you, and there's that tight feeling in his chest that screams at him that he's losing you. 

The rational part of him tells him that he should just let you go. You said you wanted to move on, and he should respect that. 

"No," is the word that comes out of his mouth instead. 

"What?" You say in response, surprised as you look at him, and it seems like he didn't expect that either. 

"No," Steve repeats again, blinking. "If you're still in love with me, I can't let you move on."

You're actually baffled by the words coming out Steve's mouth. 

"You selfish--"

"Yes, I am selfish," Steve cuts you off, "but I can't let you go."

"You hurt me, Steve. You're the one that left," you remind him angrily. 

"I know," Steve breathes. "It was the worst mistake I've ever made, and I know I can't undo it, but I still can't let you go."

"I don't care," you purse your lips, steeling yourself. 

But then Steve takes a step up closer to you, and you back up automatically. 

"Stop," you warn him as he keeps getting closer to you until your back hits the brick wall of your building. 

"You can scream at me all you want, call me names, and even hit me," Steve gets right up in your space, hands on either side of your head, and you flashback to the last time you were in this position. 

"I'm an asshole," Steve admits as he licks his bottom lip, "but I'm an asshole that's in love with you."

Steve swoops down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, fervent with passion and longing. 

Two years have passed, but you know his lips like no time has passed at all. 

His lips, the way his hand cups your jaw while his other is wrapped around you back, holding you close to him, and the warmth of his body pressed against you. 

It all feels like home.

His lips move against yours, kissing you hard and firm, trying to take you all in before air becomes an apparent need. 

He pulls back, both of you panting for air as he rests his forehead against yours. Steve strokes your jaw, intoxicated by you. 

He missed the way you felt in his arms, the way you smelled, everything about you.

The gaping hole in his chest feels like it's being filled by you, and Steve never wants to let you go.

"I don't know how to trust you," you quietly admit.

It's not going to be easy, he already knows. 

But for once, he knows he can fight for you.

"That's okay," he tells you softly. "It's my turn to convince you I'm here to stay."

The two of you stay locked in an embrace with Steve pressing soft kisses to your cheeks and eyelids.

"Even when you were gone," he presses another kiss, the words vibrating against your skin. "I couldn't figure out how to live my life after you, and now I know that there isn't. For me, there won't ever be a time in my life after you."

He strokes your cheek with his thumb as he gazes in your eyes.

"So, don't go trying to figure out how to move on after me. I won't ever let you get that chance again."

He presses his lips again against yours, and this time, pulling you off the wall as he leads you back into your apartment, kissing you as long as he can as the two you try to make it up the stairs.

And when you make it back in, falling backward on your bed as Steve climbs on top of you, you feel tears falling out of your eyes.

Steve looked alarmed, but when you let out a choked laughter, he smiles before he swoops down to capture your lips again.

And when the morning comes, and Steve is still there, you'll tell him.

Steve was a mess. 

He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. He was...lost. 

It seemed like Steve would never recover from the emptiness Peggy left in her wake.

He says Peggy Carter was the woman who saw him before he had a massive growth spurt and started working out.

You don't know how to tell him you were--are too.

Even before Peggy Carter. 

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

It had started with nothing more than casual hookups. 

The first time had been a drunken mess when you were out with Steve again for the umpteenth time at the bar.

It was Bucky's only idea left on how to get Steve out of the house, and you weren't opposed to it if it got him to leave the house, but you knew this couldn't continue on forever. 

And while he was having another drunken rant about Peggy Carter, you watched him with your own heavy-lidden tipsy eyes before grabbing the front of his shirt and smashing your lips to his.

"What are you-"

"Stop," you hissed as you bit his bottom lip in warning, "stop talking about her."

It took him a second, but he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you close as he kissed you with renewed passion.

Casual hookups turned to friends with benefits. 

There were parts of it that gave you both relief and pain. On the one hand, Steve was starting to seem like himself a little again, slowly, but surely. But on the other hand, this wasn't exactly what you had wanted either.

He was looking at you, but not really.

But the small moments you got were what you couldn't afford to lose now that you've experienced it. 

And somehow, miraculously, casual hookups turned into a cautious, timid relationship.

"What?"

"Will you?" Steve asked as he swallowed visibly as dawn settled slowly, light flittering through his curtains. "Be my girl."

You slowly turned on your side, a little exhausted after the bedroom activities you've just done with him.

You were unsure; it showed in your eyes, and Steve tensed.

"Why?" 

Perhaps it was the way you asked it, but Steve blinked, putting the question and the unsureness in your eyes together. He tentatively pulled you closed to him, relaxing slightly when you didn't push him away. Steve traces your bare spine, warming when you shiver slightly.

"I didn't think there was anything for me after," Steve spoke softly and slowly. 

He can talk about Peggy Carter in vague terms now, it's small, but you feel like it shows he's moving on. 

"I don't know what any of it really means, but there's you. I see you."

It's not an 'I'm in love with you,' but you still want to cry as you feel the butterflies in your stomach.

Steve holds you close, rubbing your back as he smiles. 

"Besides, it's not proper of me to keep sleeping with you like this, I gotta make an honest woman outta you," he jokes, making you laugh as you slap him playfully.

"You're my girl," Steve says after the laughter dies down, almost as if he's testing the words himself.

"Yeah, I am," you smile. 

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

What you have with Steve is frail. It's shaky, careful, and shy. 

It's new for both of you. 

Steve's only dating experience is Peggy, and sometimes it feels like he's being overly cautious in watching for signs that you might leave him.

And you're nervous because Steve Rogers is finally yours. You didn't ever think this day would ever come. You were so sure you were going to have to swallow your feelings while you watched Steve and Peggy get married and live their happily ever after.

The first time you had a fight and survived it, you felt like everything was going to be okay. 

"I'm NOT upset," Steve firmly insisted. 

It was probably the long hours at work the both of you had to endure, meaning less time together.

There were reschedule dates, rushed good mornings and good nights, and sometimes the silence of missing the other person was too loud.

"You clearly are," you rolled your eyes because Steve's hands were clenched in a fist, his lips pressed together in a thin line, and brows furrowed.

"I'm not," Steve repeated. "Nobody likes someone who can't understand that life happens." 

He said it so fast that you almost missed it, but you didn't.

It only takes you a second to understand, and you flare up at him with a clenched jaw.

"I am not Peggy Carter," you say through gritted teeth. The name itself seems to make Steve brace himself, but you don't care. "Of course life happens. That doesn't mean it doesn't affect us."

Of course, you understood why Steve was unwilling to show unfavorable emotions.

After all, Peggy had left him for an opportunity somewhere in Europe. Understandably, Steve had been upset when she told him. Steve told her that she should have talked to him about it because he couldn't just uproot his life currently. Peggy said she didn't need his permission to go.

But Steve wasn't asking that she ask for his permission, he was asking where did he stand in her future. 

You grabbed his hand in your own, sighing as you pressed your lips to his knuckles.

"Steve, I am not Peggy Carter," you repeat. "If you're upset, then you can say so. I'm not going to leave when we're trying to build a life together. And life isn't just about everything working out without any issues. I want you to tell me if something is bothering you."

Steve stands there, staring at you while you stroke the back of his hand gently with the pad of your index finger while his hand rests on top of your other hand.

And suddenly he's pulling you into a tight hug, his head buried in your hair as he inhales the scent.

"I really missed you," he mumbles.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Building a life together turns out to be lovely. Knowing you can survive a fight seems to place the two of you in a better place. 

Steve hasn't said he loves you, but he sees a future with you. And for now, that's enough. 

"You're just glowing, doll," Bucky teases you while the two of you are going to house openings. 

Steve couldn't take time off work today, so Bucky offered to go with you.

You laugh bashfully.

"Why? Can you tell?" You smile, and Bucky just smiles softly for a second. 

"You're basically wearing a giant neon sign on your head," he smirks. "Lord knows your forehead could fit it."

"Bucky!" Your jaw drops with a hint of a smile as you slap his arm. 

He shields himself dramatically, and the two of you laugh, waiting patiently for the realtor to return.

"But, you're happy?" Bucky asks after a moment, soft and serious. 

You can't help the smile that forms on your lips. 

"Very much so."

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

But, like all good things, they eventually come to an end. 

And you wonder if the end was beginning when Peggy Carter returns. 

She returns, and it's like she's never left. Peggy is still clever, headstrong, witty and sarcastic, charming, and appreciative. 

It's like she never left because she still wants Steve. 

Peggy is a no-nonsense woman, but she had no qualms about telling Steve she was still in love with him, wanted him back, and was willing to wait for him. 

Even fully aware that he was dating you now. 

The entire thing had shaken Steve up. He didn't come home for a couple days, but when he did, he was red in the eyes as he pulled you into a hug. 

And he had chosen you. 

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

For a while, things are okay.

Different.

But okay. 

This was obviously was something Steve still struggled with because it didn't seem like Peggy was going anywhere.

When things feel too overwhelming, you sit at the bar where you first kissed Steve, downing shots like it's your job. 

Things only go downhill when Peggy is there too, but seemingly picking up food rather than drinking. 

"Do you feel no shame at all?" You glare at her in your drunken haze. "You know he's clearly with me, and yet, you're still pursuing him. Where's your morality now?"

Peggy quirks her brow at you, turning to you as she waits for her food. 

"Steve is the love of my life," Peggy tells you, "I'm willing to do what I must to be with him."

"He's mine!" You nearly scream at her.

"But he doesn't love you," Peggy says calmly, and she knows she hit the nail right on your head when you're silent.

Peggy sighs as if she's tired of this conversation--of you. 

"Look," she tells you, "no matter what you may delude yourself into thinking, I am Steve's greatest love. I'm going to tell you what I told him."

Peggy runs her hand through her hair. "Sooner or later, he'll come back to me because I came back for him. That opportunity for me in Europe was nowhere close to being done, but because I love him--I can't stop loving him, I came back. If this were a movie, I'm his leading lady. And that makes you the side character."

The bartender comes back out with Peggy's food, and she takes it and leaves, not even sparring you another look. 

And like a side character, you can only down another shot.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

It comes as no surprise to you when Steve, after all that turmoil, returns to Peggy Carter.

You sit alone in the dark of your apartment, texting the realtor at an ungodly hour to back out of the bid for the house. 

Still, that doesn't stop you from showing up at the house--your dream home that was supposed to be with Steve.

You stare up at it, eyes empty as flashes of the future that will never be come. 

Hours pass, but your feet are rooted there, a stupid, foolish hope that Steve will appear.

But when you feel a jacket slip over your shoulders, and you turn to see Bucky standing there sad for you, you know Steve isn't coming. 

"What are you doing standing out here, doll?" Bucky asks. 

You turn your head to look at the house before looking back at him, blinking. 

"He left me," you say like you're in disbelief. 

"Doll..." Bucky whispers, but he doesn't know what to say because Bucky can't say that isn't true. 

"It's like all this time, it was just a dream. A dream that Steve was blissfully passing the time with until he reality hit him. And that reality was Peggy Carter," you chuckle hollowly. 

But the tears come suddenly, overflowing quick and down your cheeks, even when you wipe them away, so you hide your eyes away in your hands. 

Bucky reaching his hand up toward you but freezes before they can touch you. 

"He left me," you choke, stuttering on your own breath. "He left me, and I can't breathe."

And Bucky throws out all his thoughts, pulling you into his arms as he holds you tight. He grips the back of your neck through your hair. He holds your head close to his neck as if to hide you from the world.

You feel him swallow, but Bucky doesn't say anything as he holds you while you fall apart in his arms.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

It's easy for you to leave.

Pack everything in your apartment and move to another city. 

There's no goodbye letter, no goodbye text. You delete your social media and change your number. 

It takes months, but eventually, the new city air feels refreshing, and you feel like you can breathe again.

The only person who may know where you are is Bucky, who visits frequently. And although he is Steve's best friend, he won't open his mouth about you to him. 

And you don't ask about your former boyfriend.

You're learning to live your life after Steve. 

Whiskey.

Bucky finds himself in a fight when he has too much. 

Cocktails. 

No one could probably tell, but Bucky did have a specific cocktail. Something he enjoyed at a leisurely pace. A blend of rye whiskey, extra dry vermouth, and maraschino liqueur. He likes that it's smooth, it's dry bite keeping him coming back. 

Bucky has a high tolerance, he always has. No one could outdrink him, and you'd be hard-pressed ever to find him drunk. But he likes a good party. He likes being able to take care of you if you drank too much, even though it's not really his job.

Because you're not his girl. 

"Bucky!"

He turns over to see you coming over with a huge grin and rosy cheeks.

"Are you drunk already, doll?" He laughs as you stumble into him at your last step, fumbling over a faulty tile. He catches you easily as he wraps one of his arms around you as you fling your arms around his waist.

"God, no, maybe, yes, no," you decidedly answer with a laugh. "I think Tony poured me way too much rum in my last drink."

"And you drank it?"

"You know I love rum."

Bucky merely sighs playfully, painfully aware of how warm your body feels against his. How perfectly you fit under his arm and into his side. His fingers ache to flex, to hold you more tightly, but he can't. 

So, he helps you stand upright as you cheekily blow a raspberry at him.

"Careful now, you don't want to finish off so early when the night's just begun," Bucky tells you, and you blow air out of your mouth before grabbing a water bottle. 

"C'mon, it's my first party since the breakup. Surely this is better than having to hang inside watching b-rated chick flicks, eating an unhealthy amount of pizza and ice cream while I cry," you wryly quirk your lips.

But Bucky doesn't say that he secretly enjoyed those times.

Not you crying.

That was awful, and it broke his heart to see you cry like that. But there was something about hanging in your apartment for long periods with nothing to do but watch movies and eat together.

It was like on some level, only the two of you existed in those moments. It helped that you would snuggle up to Bucky under the blankets, and sometimes even fell asleep.

"You sure you're up for tonight? I know Sam is here too," Bucky asked quietly. 

You sighed but shook your head. "I can't avoid him anymore. Besides, I can't keep you locked up with me forever, either."

Bucky wishes he could say he wouldn't mind. 

He looks at you, watching as your turn to your head to look out into the living room where Sam is standing talking with a bunch of guys.

For the longest time, you were Sam's girl. 

Bucky has known you since pre-K, then Sam came in the picture in junior high, and when the two of you started dating in high school, everyone was surprised.

It was no secret that Sam was a notorious player, never have been in a long-term relationship. But the two of you had always clicked, and Bucky couldn't help but feel that it was like a cliche movie. 

The player settles down for the one girl who's always been by his side and keeps up with him the way no one else can.

Bucky was convinced this was only destined to end happily ever after. 

And so, he kept quiet about his feelings.

But then midway through the first year of university, Sam broke up with you. Sitting on the couch crying your eyes out, you had told Bucky that Sam said he just wasn't ready for a relationship right now. It was amicable, you didn't hate Sam, but it had also hurt a lot. He didn't know what to say when you had said that perhaps you just weren't the girl who could get a player to retire from his game. 

It made Bucky's chest ache painfully because he's stopped looking at other girls for a long time now. 

"Alright," Bucky decides, "finish up that water bottle, and we're going to find some duds to destroy beer pong at."

You smile at him, tipping the water bottle all the way up as you finish the last of it. Chucking the water bottle aside, you take Bucky's outstretched hand as he leads you into the living room. 

You pass Sam, giving him only a nod of acknowledgment as you keep walking. You hear Bucky give him a brief greeting, but he doesn't stop to chit-chat with his friend.

Entering the area for games, the two of you arrive just in time to enter into a new game with two strangers that seemed to have been dominating the game the entire night.

The two frat boys looked at you, making wolf-whistling sounds that made Bucky quirk his brow. You didn't react to it, but you did meet Bucky's eyes from the side. He gave you a knowing smile as the game started.

Sinking cup after cup, the game ends way too quickly, and the frat boys aren't too happy about being trounced, but they're not willing to start something with Bucky Barnes, so they leave quietly.

Bucky starts to walk off, but you pull his sleeve.

"Let's play a couple more rounds," you smile at him. He tilts his head, a little surprised as you usually don't like to play the same game in a row, but he nods nonetheless.

Seven rounds. 

You don't call it quits until after seven rounds. With Bucky by your side, you never lose a game, but you are feeling buzzed again. 

"Done with the games?" Bucky teases.

You're about to answer, but the words get caught in your throat. 

You probably weren't meant to see it, but you did. Sam's on the dance floor with some girl you don't recognize, she might be in her second year of university. 

They're grinding and kissing, and even though you're pretty sure you're starting to move on, it still hits you in the gut. 

There's a momentary flashback to when Sam first broke up with you and the painful feeling of knowing somehow, you weren't enough. 

You know Sam didn't mean it that way, but that's how it felt.

Bucky follows your line of sight and feels his gut sink. He doesn't know what to do other than to move to stand in front of you. You blink, your view being blocked as you look into Bucky's eyes.

"Let's grab some drinks," Bucky turns you around, pushing you towards the kitchen. 

He thinks it might still be too early for you to be out and partying when you've got a broken heart, but when you don't cry, he's impressed.

You swallow the lump in your throat, coughing lightly to clear your throat as you turn to Bucky. 

"This party blows," you tell him, watching him quirk his brow with a smile. "You know, Tony has the good stuff up in his study room."

You don't say anything, but Bucky grins right away, knowing what you're insinuating.

"Meet me out back?" You lick your lips.

"You've got yourself a rendezvous, doll."

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Bucky finds you not too far from the house, just down the block where the road curves. You're sitting on the edge of the sidewalk under the streetlight. 

Normally, Bucky would scold you for being so reckless, but it's late in the night, and you've got a look on your face that he just decides to let this one slide.

He walks up to you, taking a seat and shows you the treasure he brought.

You chortle, "I knew Tony was hiding the good stuff."

"We're probably going to hear about it from him tomorrow," Bucky smirks, but that doesn't stop him from cracking the bottle open. 

"That's a tomorrow us problem," you shrug, causing him to laugh.

You both take a shot of the premium vodka Bucky stole, licking your lips at how smooth it goes down. 

Even as good as it was, you still make a face and a displeased noise.

Bucky turns to you and laughs.

"I knew I should've brought the rum instead," he jokes, and you lean over and push him playfully with your shoulder.

"You fool," you smile, "there was rum, and you took vodka? Rookie mistake."

Bucky throws his head back with laughter. There's something that feels warm in your stomach as you watch Bucky laugh, and you wonder if it's the vodka.

"Here," you say, turning over slightly pick up two glasses you had brought out earlier.

"What's this?" Bucky asks as he looks at the cocktail. The orange color looks familiar to him, and there's a toothpick with cherries in it. 

You quirk your eyebrow at him as if he should know. "Your favorite cocktail? The Brooklyn cocktail. I think it should be called the Bucky Barnes cocktail, though."

Bucky takes the drink slowly, sipping it. He's not sure if it's because he's already had so many drinks tonight, or if it's the fact that you made it, but it tastes better than usual.

"I hope you appreciate this. I stole the cherries."

"From where?"

You were silent.

"From where?" Bucky jokingly begged.

The two of you burst into laughter as you share drinks under the night sky.

"How did you know this was my favorite cocktail? I drink everything, and I've never mentioned this drink," Bucky asked, savoring the flavor.

You look at him with furrow brows.

"What do you mean?" You lick your lips. "It's the only cocktail you'll drink twice."

It was so small, something no one else ever has noticed. Bucky likes to drink, and he really will drink everything. It's easy for people to assume he likes vodka the best. 

Fuck, he's so in love. 

But he downs the rest of the drink along with his feelings.

The night passes quietly with the two of you drinking from the vodka bottle, and Bucky is feeling the liquor a little more than usual.

"This is so dumb," you sigh.

"What is?" Bucky asks softly back.

"I dragged you and myself to this party, but now we're sitting out here on the curb."

Bucky shrugs. "This right here is the coolest party 'round town."

You laugh, "Not sure if two people make it a party."

"What does it make then?"

"A date, maybe?" You say.

It's meant innocently, but Bucky's chest flares with butterflies, and he's gripping the edge of the curb tightly.

Suddenly, you groan as you lean against his shoulder.

"Be honest, you think I'm tragic, don't you?" The warmth immediately seeps through Bucky's shirt against your temple. 

"Not at all, doll," Bucky licks his bottom lip.

You pinch his side lightly. "Doll this, doll that. Careful, Barnes, I might just fall for you."

And maybe it's the alcohol that has him relaxed. 

Maybe it's the way you look under the streetlight. 

Maybe it's the way you look like you don't believe you can be anyone's entire universe.

Whatever it is, it has Bucky leaning over your face. You look up, caught in his steel-blue eyes. Your breath hitches when you feel his breath ghost over your cheeks and on your lips. 

His other hand comes to cup your face, thumb dragging from the corner of your mouth across your cheekbone.

Your eyes flutter closed as you unknowingly move closer. 

"What are you doing?" You whisper.

You open your eyes when Bucky doesn't answer. He only swallows visibly. 

"How long?" You ask instead.

"Before Sam," Bucky's forehead touches yours as your noses brush.

Your jaw clenches because that was ages ago. 

You come to a sobering realization that Bucky has loved you longer than you have ever known. 

There's a nagging thought in both of your heads that this could be a mistake. 

But as quick as Bucky's lips brush against yours, he pulls back. 

You blink.

Bucky coughs, standing up.

"Sorry," Bucky smiles contritely. 

Because the thing is, even if you're not Sam's girl, you're not Bucky's either.

And he's not about to risk something just because his entire body feels like he's about to go through vertigo if he doesn't kiss you. 

You stare at Bucky as he gives you that goofy grin, scratching the back of his head. 

"Let's head back inside," Bucky starts walking, "I bet Tony is white girl wasted at this point."

You watch Bucky's back as you stand up.

The truth is, you don't understand. You don't know what the right decision is or if you'll regret it in the morning. 

The only thing you know is that things have changed regardless of what you choose to do.

There's this uncomfortable feeling in your gut as you bite your nail before running your hand through your hair frustratedly. 

You look to the side, huffing before you look back.

"Bucky!" 

You're already running when he turns around as you collide into his body, hand cupping his jaw with a bruising kiss. 

Bucky responds immediately, both his hands coming around to hold your face. You feel the ring on his thumb as it's pressed just right on the corner of your lips. 

He kisses you like he's known your lips forever. Even though the last thing you drank was vodka, there's still an underlying tone of rum, and Bucky thinks rum might be his new favorite. 

The smell of orange blossoms and dry leaves invades his nose as he pulls back, both breathless. 

He doesn't dare pull back any further, feeling your warm breath on his lips. 

He catches your eyes, the way they flutter to his as your chest heaves. Your fingers move to hold his fingers that are cupping your jaw and neck.

And Bucky falls all over. 

"I'm in love with you, doll," Bucky confesses, pulling you into another consuming kiss. 

Cars pass you, their headlights shining just momentarily on the two of you as you share something new from drinks.