Where? Who? Why?

Bucky perfected the art of being left alone.

And the neighborhood helped with that: people crossed the street when they saw him coming, lowered their voices when he passed, pretended not to notice the scars on his hands and that disappeared beneath his sleeves and he low-key liked it that way, because the quiet was safe and the distance was easier than explanations.

So when there was a knock on his door the first morning after Steve Rogers moved in next door, Bucky didn’t bother hiding being annoyed, it was written all over his face when he opened the door, he opened it just enough to see a too-bright smile and a plate wrapped in tin foil.

“Hi” the guy said, like this was normal and like Bucky didn’t look like he hadn’t slept in days “I’m Steve, your new neighbor, we kinda met last night in the hallway, I said hi and you didn’t talk, I thought you didn’t hear me, anyway, I made cookies”

Bucky stared for a moment then he shut the door and that should’ve been the end of it.

But, the next day, there was another knock and the day after that, sometimes it was cookies, sometimes bread and even once, inexplicably, soup and Steve never looked offended when the door stayed closed each time, and never snapped when Bucky told him, flat and sharp, to stop coming by.

“Okay” Steve said the first time Bucky actually spoke to him “I’ll try again tomorrow”

And damn him, he actually did.

It started small, a nod when they passed each other in the hallway or the stairs, Steve bringing Bucky’s mail without asking, a bunch of candles left on Bucky’s steps during a blackout because Steve noticed there was no light coming out of the apartment, a thermos left on Bucky’s steps also during a snowstorm, steam still curling from the lid.

Eventually, Bucky opened the door all the way and eventually, Steve stayed.

They sat on opposite ends of Bucky’s couch, not talking much, Steve talked enough for both of them anyway, about his job, about the other neighbors, about nothing at all and Bucky only listened because all that was new and it was terrifying.

One evening, months in, Bucky realized something that made his chest ache in a way he didn’t have words for, Steve had never asked, never about the scars, never about the nightmares that sometimes left Bucky pale and shaking in the mornings, never about why people avoided him, Steve had just… chosen him, with cookies and food and relentless, stupid kindness.

Bucky swallowed, fingers tightening around his mug “You know” he said quietly “most people don’t try this hard”

Steve smiled, soft and warm, like it was the easiest thing in the world “Yeah” he said “But I’m not most people”

Bucky pushes himself upright, scanning the room, the clothes on the floor, the man speaking, too smug, too relaxed, too familiar…

“…Did we-?”

“We did” the man says smoothly “Consensual don’t worry, enthusiastic, five stars, would recommend”

Bucky blinks, then blinks again, his gaze drifts, then snaps back up to the man’s face.

“Oh” he says “You’re… wow”

The man laughs “Thank you, I work out”

“No not that kind of wow… Oh my god! Oh no” Bucky mutters

The man cocks his head “Oh no what?”

Bucky’s eyes narrow as recognition crashes in, his face twists from confusion to horror…

“I know you” he says

The man freezes just for a fraction of a second, then recovers instantly  “You do? Wow, I usually have to buy dinner first”

“You’re Steve” Bucky snaps “Steve Rogers, the new digital marketing manager at Wilson Enterprises, the golden boy with the smug smile and the unbearable attitude”

The man- Steve places a hand over his still bare chest “Unbearable is harsh, I’ve only been here two weeks”

“I hate you” Bucky says, dropping his face into his hands “I actually hate you, your voice, your confidence, what the hell came over me?”

Steve steps closer, grin turning sharp, dangerous “That’s not what you said last night”

Bucky looks up slowly “What?”

Steve leans against the bed, entirely too comfortable in Bucky’s space “You said…” he pauses, pretending to think “… that I was, and I quote ‘annoyingly hot’ and that my attitude was ‘unfairly attractive’ Oh, and my personal favorite-”

“Stop” Bucky groans

“ ‘I hate that I like you’ ” Steve finishes brightly “Direct quote”

Bucky stares at him, mortified “I was drunk”

“Sure” Steve agrees “But you were honest”

Bucky exhales hard, rubbing his temples “I slept with the one person in the department I cannot stand”

“And yet” Steve says, straightening, full of himself again “you slept very well” Bucky throws a pillow at him and Steve laughs, catching it easily “Relax, we can pretend this never happened, but fyi, you initiated”

“I did not!”

“You absolutely did” Steve leans against the bed again “You also called me ‘annoying’ right before kissing me, I think that’s your thing”

“It is not my thing”

“Sure looked like it”

Bucky buries his face in his hands “I’m never drinking again” and he adds “This was a mistake”

Bucky woke up that morning and told himself it would be fine, that he would go to work, have coffee, do his job, and keep his head down, you know, routine was supposed to help, right?

He went through the motions automatically, shower, pressed shirt, the dark blue tie that Sharon once said made him look reliable and he even smiled at the mirror, the same well-practiced smile he gave to clients, but the moment he stepped into the office, something inside him already felt… off.

The air smelled like perfume and printer ink and the sound of keyboards and phone calls filled the space, Sharon waved at him from her desk, cheerful as always, and he waved back, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, he sighed, grabbed his tablet, and called in the first client.

A man in a fitted beige suit strutted into his office, confident and self-assured in that way people get when they think money can solve everything, he dropped into the chair and crossed his legs.

“I want someone who doesn’t eat chocolate,” he said…

Bucky blinked “I’m sorry?”

The man gestured vaguely “Or carbs you know, I like to stay in shape, I don’t want to deal with… temptation”

Bucky managed a polite nod “Right, so you’re looking for someone who shares your lifestyle goals?”

The man smirked “No... I just don’t like it when people can’t control themselves”

Bucky’s pen paused, his jaw clenched… He wrote something down that wasn’t even words and kept the conversation moving.

When the man left, Bucky rubbed his eyes and muttered “Sure… Someone who hates chocolate, that’ll build a lasting marriage”

The second client came in ten minutes later, perfume clouding the air before she even spoke and her tone was sharp but pleasant.

“I only date white men” she said, without hesitation. Bucky froze mid-note “I… see” She smiled, like she hadn’t just said something deeply ugly “It’s not personal, just a preference”

He wanted to say something, anything but he didn’t, he just nodded, thanked her for her time, and moved on.

By the third client, his patience was hanging by a thread.

A young woman with glossy curls and a bright pink tablet told him she wanted someone who was “attractive but not too attractive” “smart but not intimidatingly smart” “funny but not childish” and “adventurous but also homey”

Bucky stared at her “So… perfect?” She laughed “Obviously”

He forced a chuckle “Of course” He didn’t write anything this time because what was there to even write?

When the fourth client came in, something inside him finally snapped, the man was in his forties, stocky, loud, and already irritated, he scrolled through the photos on the matchmaking app they used, rejecting one after another like he was flipping through a menu “No brunettes” he said sharply “and none of those divorced types, too much baggage, I don’t need someone with a past”

Bucky felt something twist deep in his chest “I’m sorry” he said slowly, voice low “what do you mean by ‘baggage’?”

The man scoffed “Come on, Mr. Barnes, you know what I mean, I want someone uncomplicated, clean slate, someone who hasn’t made a mess of their life already”

Bucky dropped his pen on the table “You mean someone who’s not human”

The man frowned “Excuse me?”

Bucky’s hands were clasped together tightly on the desk, his voice came out calm at first, but there was a dangerous tremble underneath “You’re talking about people like they’re products, like they come in perfect packaging with no history, no mistakes, no scars…That’s not love!! That’s delusion!!” The man’s mouth fell open, but Bucky wasn’t done “You think hair color and diet and a clean record are what will keep someone beside you when everything falls apart? You think it matters if they eat chocolate or not when you’re sick, or scared, or lonely?” He leaned forward, his voice cracking “You should be looking for someone who’s good, kind, real… Someone who won’t lie to you or hurt you or even worse-” He stopped himself, the room was so quiet he could hear his own heartbeat.

The client stood quickly, face flushed with anger “I don’t appreciate being lectured by someone who’s supposed to be a professional”

Bucky just nodded once “Yeah” he murmured “I bet you don’t”

The man grabbed his briefcase and left, slamming the door behind him and silence filled the room again, thick and heavy.

Bucky sank back in his chair and stared at the door, his throat was tight, eyes burning, his hands trembling where they rested on the desk, he wasn’t even sure if he was angry, or sad, or just empty… Probably all three, he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and let out a shaky breath and he told himself to get it together, he was at work and he couldn’t afford another mistake.

But he couldn’t shake away the guilt he’s still feeling because someone was hurt, and it was because of him, his breathing quickened and his chest felt tight, like the walls were closing in.

He pushed away from the desk, stood, then sat back down again, unsure what he was even doing, he stared at the open folder in front of him, Grant’s file, smiling photo, neat résumé, spotless references… All lies.

He hated this office, the fake plants, the motivational posters, the endless sound of the printer, the phone, he hated every little thing that reminded him of how wrong he’d been.

His hand shook as he reached for the file again. He wanted to find the flaw, the missing link, the one thing he should’ve caught, but there was nothing, just glossy perfection, he wasn’t supposed to get attached, he wasn’t supposed to feel responsible, but Daisy had trusted him and he had been wrong, and now he hates everything about his job, he leaned back in his chair, head tipped up toward the ceiling, his eyes stinging, he didn’t even hear the door open at first.

 “Buck?” Sharon’s voice was cautious, soft in the kind of way people get when they’re not sure how much the other person can handle.

He blinked at her, straightened in his chair, swiped a hand over his face like that would erase what she’d just seen. “Hey” he said, rough-voiced “Everything okay?”

She stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind her “That’s my line”

He tried to smile and he failed “Yeah, I’m fine, just-” He gestured vaguely at the papers on his desk “Long morning”

Sharon leaned against the doorway, arms crossed “You’ve been in here for hours and that client you had earlier stormed out looking like he wanted to sue someone”

Bucky let out a tired laugh that sounded more like a sigh “He wanted someone without ‘baggage’ I might’ve told him that makes him an idiot”

Her brows lifted “Oh, Bucky”

“I know” he murmured, rubbing at his temples “I know, I shouldn’t have said it”

Sharon walked closer, her tone gentler “No, you shouldn’t have… But… I get it” He looked up at her, surprised “I mean” she said, shrugging “we sit here all day listening to people list their impossible demands like they’re ordering from a catalogue and it gets under your skin, I know”

That earned her a small tired smile “Yeah, well, at least you didn’t lose a client”

She hesitated, then said “Speaking of that… Maria’s asking for you” His stomach dropped, of course she was.

He stood, straightening his tie automatically, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves “Guess I’ll go see what she wants”

Sharon reached out and touched his arm, stopping him for a second “Hey, don’t let her make you feel worse than you already do, okay? You’re good at what you do, Buck, everyone has bad days”

He gave her a weak nod and a faint, grateful smile “Thanks”

But his heart was pounding as he made his way down the hallway.

The sound of typing, laughter, and clinking coffee mugs filled the open office space, the normal, everyday rhythm that suddenly felt unbearable, he could feel eyes on him, maybe imagining whispers trailing behind… He stopped outside Maria’s door, knocked once, and stepped in.

She was standing by her desk, sharp as ever, immaculate black suit, hair perfectly pinned and her phone was on speaker, but she ended the call as soon as she saw him.

“Bucky” she greeted evenly, with that professional smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes “Close the door” he obeyed, quietly.

Maria sighed, clasped her hands on the desk, and looked up at him with the kind of practiced calm that meant she was furious underneath “I just got off the phone with our PR manager” she said “And apparently, the client you met this morning, Jeff, he has already cancelled his membership”

Bucky swallowed “I figured”

“Oh, it gets better” she continued, voice smooth as glass “He also left a very colorful review online, called us a scam and said we ‘exploit people’s emotions for profit’” Bucky flinched, the words landing too close to the truth he’d been trying not to think about, Maria leaned back in her chair “So tell me, what exactly happened in that meeting?”

He hesitated, then said quietly “I told him what he didn’t want to hear”

Maria arched an eyebrow “Which was?”

“That maybe his expectations were ridiculous” Bucky muttered.

Her lips pressed into a thin line “You’re supposed to guide them, Bucky, not insult them”

“I didn’t insult him” he shot back, his voice low but shaking “I told him the truth”

“The truth” Maria repeated, almost like she was tasting the word, then she sighed again, sitting forward “Look, I know what happened with Daisy is still bothering you”

“It’s not-”

“Yes, it is!!” she cut in, not unkindly “And I understand why, it was an unfortunate situation but Bucky, you can’t carry that forever”

He looked at her, eyes tired and red “I should because it was my fault”

“It wasn’t” she said firmly “You didn’t make Grant lie, you didn’t make him a con artist”

“I didn’t stop him either” His voice cracked “I didn’t see it, that’s my job, Maria!! I’m supposed to see it!!”

For a moment, she said nothing, then she stood, walked around the desk, and rested a hand lightly on his arm “I know this is overwhelming” she said, softer now You’ve been carrying too much I can see it, you’re burnt out, Bucky”

He laughed, bitterly “Yeah… You think?”

“When was the last time you took a break?” she asked.

He frowned “A break?”

“Yes” she said simply “Vacation, rest, anything that doesn’t involve listening to people talk about themselves for hours”

He shook his head “If I take a break, I might not come back”

She smiled faintly, the kind of smile that was supposed to be reassuring but somehow made him feel smaller “You’ll come back, I know you, this is who you are and you love your job, you love helping people”

Bucky stared at her for a long moment before saying quietly “Do I?”

Her brows drew together “What do you mean?”

“I actually hate this job” he said, voice raw, trembling but steady in its honesty “It makes me feel like a therapist who’s underpaid and overworked and no, therapists don’t deal with this because I don’t think anyone tells their therapist they only want to date white people, or skinny people, or someone who doesn’t eat chocolate” Maria blinked, taken aback by his tone, he went on, words spilling faster now “We listen to people confess the worst parts of themselves and we call it compatibility, we take their money and pretend we’re giving them love, but all we do is make them believe they can buy it”

There was a pause, heavy and suffocating, Maria crossed her arms, leaning against the desk “That’s what makes our job more interesting” she said finally, carefully measured “We deal with all kinds of people, we help them, Bucky and sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn’t!! That’s life!!”

He shook his head “You’re wrong” He looked down, his voice barely above a whisper “Daisy believed in us, she trusted me and now she’s suing the agency because the man I matched her with turned out to be a criminal, that’s not just ‘life’ Maria, that’s something I’ll live with forever” He met her gaze, eyes full of quiet devastation “You can say it’s not my fault all you want but it feels like it is”

Maria’s lips parted, as if she wanted to say but no words came.

Bucky took a step back, nodded once, and said “I think I’m gonna head out early today”

“Bucky, I mean it, get some rest, a few days or even weeks, consider it a bonus for your hard work the last few years!!”

“I’ll see” he said, already turning away, he walked out of her office, his footsteps echoing too loudly in the polished hallway, his chest felt tight, his eyes burning again and as he passed the open workspace, he heard it, laughter, cheers, champagne corks popping “Another match!” someone shouted joyfully “They’re getting married!” The team clapped, the sound bright and hollow.

Bucky slowed his steps, watching from the glass partition as everyone hugged, grinning at their success, Sharon caught his eye across the room, her smile faltering just slightly when she saw his expression, he didn’t smile back, he just turned away and walked out of the office, the celebration fading behind him, replaced by the quiet, steady rhythm of his heart breaking in ways no one in that building would ever notice.

The apartment was quiet, too quiet, no sound of the city leaking through the windows, no TV humming in the background, no music to drown out his thoughts, just the faint tick of the clock and the low hum of the refrigerator.

Bucky sat on the couch, still in his work clothes, a half-finished glass of water on the table, his phone face down beside it, he just sat there, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing the kind of stare that isn’t about looking but about not thinking.

Except he was thinking about Daisy, he reached for his phone without really deciding to, the screen lit up, the brightness making him squint, no new messages, no missed calls, he opened Instagram and searched Daisy Johnson, her profile picture was the same bright smile, soft curls, sunlight in her eyes, she looked happy, she looked before, he scrolled, her feed was mostly art, coffee, city shots, selfies with friends, the life of someone trying to stay afloat, but then, between the filtered photos and captions, something shifted, a recent post, a bruise on her wrist, half-covered by a sleeve and a caption that didn’t say much: Learning to breathe again, Bucky’s chest tightened, he kept scrolling, slower now, until one photo caught his eye, her standing in front of a small café, a bright red sign with the name Maribel’s written in curly letters above the door, in the reflection of the café window, he could see a distinctive green building across the street, a mural of flowers painted along its wall, he knew that mural, it was only a few blocks away from his own neighborhood, and before he could second-guess himself, he was already standing, pulling on his jacket.

The evening air was cold, sharp with city smells, exhaust, fried food, rain that hadn’t yet fallen, Bucky kept his hood up as he walked down the street, his breath visible in the dim glow of the streetlights, when he reached the café, it was closed, the lights inside dimmed, chairs stacked on tables, he leaned against the wall and waited… Minutes bled into hours, he checked his phone once, then again, aimlessl, a few messages from Howard, he didn’t open them, a text from Sharon: You okay? He didn’t answer, then, finally, he saw her.

Daisy, walking fast down the sidewalk, head down, a tote bag over her shoulder, she was in a long coat, hair messy, tired in a way that wasn’t just physical, he straightened instinctively, his heart pounding, “Daisy” he called softly, she froze for a fraction of a second then turned, when she saw him, her entire body went rigid, then she turned away, fast, walking in the opposite direction “Daisy!! Wait-” She didn’t, he followed her “Please, wait! I just want to talk!” She moved faster, clutching her bag tighter, nearly running now “Daisy!” His voice cracked this time, echoing against the brick walls of the quiet street “Please!” She stopped, finally.

Bucky slowed to a stop a few feet away, she turned to face him, her eyes were wet, but not with tears of sadness, it was anger, hurt.

“You should be ashamed of yourself” she said, her voice shaking.

Bucky swallowed hard “I came to apologize”

“Apologize?” she repeated, a bitter laugh escaping her “You think that fixes anything?”

“I didn’t know” he said quickly, desperate, pleading “I swear, Daisy, I didn’t know what kind of person he was”

She shook her head “You should have known” Her words hit like a punch “It was your job to know” she went on, her voice breaking “You looked me in the eyes and told me you trusted him, you told me I could trust him”

“I’m sorry” Bucky said again, his voice barely above a whisper “I- I thought I was helping, Grant was- he was good at hiding who he really was”

“I don’t care” Daisy said sharply “That’s your problem, not mine, you’re the professional, right? The expert at love” Her voice cracked on the word love, like it had turned sour in her mouth “You don’t get to make mistakes that ruin people’s lives” Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, she took a shaky breath, her eyes glistening under the streetlight “You don’t understand what it’s like to look at yourself in the mirror and see a fool, to know that someone like him fooled you because someone like you told me it was safe”

“Daisy…”

“Please” she said, taking a step back, her voice trembling but firm “Leave me alone, I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear from you, and if you come near me again, I will file a restraining order”

Bucky’s throat closed “I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t care what you meant” she snapped “Go! Before I call the police!” She turned and walked away, fast, her coat flaring behind her, disappearing into the shadows of the street.

Bucky stood there, frozen, the cold settled into his bones, he didn’t know how long he stayed like that, but it was long enough for the wind to pick up, for the city lights to blur in his eyes, for the ache in his chest to feel like something physical, something tearing him apart from the inside, eventually, he moved, but not home, not anywhere, just… moved, his feet dragging down the street, his body on autopilot while his mind replayed her words over and over, like a punishment he knew he deserved, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky Barnes wondered if he’d ever been good at helping anyone at all.

The phone rang before Steve even made it out of the checkout line, he almost didn’t answer, his arms were full of paper bags, his earbuds in, and someone was saying something about receipts, but then he saw the name on the screen, Bucky.

He answered immediately, balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear, “Hey, Bucky, what’s-” The sound on the other end made him freeze, it wasn’t words at first, just a shaky exhale, a breath that sounded like it had been held too long “Bucky?” Steve said quietly, already frowning, already knowing something was wrong...

“Hey” Bucky’s voice came, low, raw, wrecked, Steve stopped walking, the world around him blurred, the chatter, the carts, everything... All of it faded.

“Hey” he said again, softer “You okay?”

“No” It came out so small, so broken, that Steve’s stomach dropped, he set the grocery bags down right there in the middle of the sidewalk outside the store and leaned back against the brick wall, one hand gripping the phone tighter.

“What happened?” he asked gently “Where are you? Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“No, I’m home, it’s okay” Bucky said, voice cracking

Steve closed his eyes, pressing a hand to the back of his neck “Okay. Okay, you’re home, that’s good, talk to me, Buck, what’s going on?”

“It’s work” Bucky said “And I’m not supposed to- I can’t tell anyone, but…” He hesitated, his breath short and quick “Can I tell you?”

Steve didn’t even let him finish the question “Of course you can”

There was silence for a second, just the sound of Bucky breathing, uneven, like every inhale cost him effort, then his voice came through again, quiet and shaking, he was crying…

“I fucked up, Steve” Steve felt that like a punch “I fucked up bad, I- I thought I was helping someone and I wasn’t, I wasn’t helping anyone” His voice broke completely now “This girl, Daisy, she trusted me, I told her she’d be safe, that the guy I picked for her was good and he wasn’t, he hurt her, he-” His breath caught, “She’s suing us, Steve, she looked at me like I was the reason her life fell apart, and maybe she’s right” Steve’s jaw clenched, he stayed silent, just letting Bucky’s words come, because he knew sometimes the worst thing you can do is interrupt someone who’s unraveling, “I keep thinking” Bucky went on, voice barely holding steady “that I should’ve seen it, there must’ve been something, something in his file, something he said, I don’t know, but I didn’t see it, I just, I wanted to believe he was good, because that’s what we do, we sell people this dream about love, and I believed my own bullshit”

“Buck” Steve said softly “you didn’t-”

“No, don’t” Bucky cut in, almost begging “Don’t tell me it’s not my fault because it is, that girl, she’s gonna have to live with that forever and I can’t fix it, I can’t fix any of it…” There was a pause, long and heavy, and then the sound of a shaky laugh that didn’t sound like laughter at all “I was supposed to be the one helping people find something real” Bucky whispered “And I just keep ruining everything” Steve closed his eyes, he could see him, sitting somewhere dark, shoulders hunched, eyes tired and glassy, that old familiar weight pressing down on him.

“Buck” Steve said quietly, his voice steady, the way it always was when Bucky was breaking “You’re human, you can’t control what people do after you give them a chance, you couldn’t have known”

“I should have known” Bucky said again.

Steve swallowed hard “You care too much” he said “That’s not a bad thing, it just hurts more when things go wrong” there was another pause, then Steve asked, softly “Do you want me to come over?” there was silence, the kind that stretches too long, the kind that hurts before it ends.

“No” Bucky said finally “I’m about to go to Howard’s place, we’re supposed to have dinner”

“Oh” Steve’s voice barely made it out “Yeah” Steve said again, forcing it out “Of course”

“I’m sorry” Bucky murmured.

“No” Steve said quickly, shaking his head even though Bucky couldn’t see it “Don’t be, it’s okay, Buck” But it wasn’t, not for him, still, he sank down onto the cold concrete outside the store, grocery bags forgotten beside him, the phone pressed to his ear “Just talk to me” Steve said softly “Let it out, don’t hold it in” Bucky exhaled, and for a moment, Steve could almost see him sitting on the floor somewhere, head in his hands, eyes red, trying to breathe through the guilt “I’m here” Steve whispered, his voice breaking for the first time “I’ll always be here, just talk to me, Buck and I’ll always listen” There was silence, then a soft, broken sound  halfway between a laugh and a sob,

“Yeah” Bucky said finally “I know”

And they stayed like that, two men sitting in two different places, connected by a single voice and a silence that said more than either of them could.

The glass walls of Howard Stark’s penthouse gleamed like mirrors in the night, Bucky stood in the doorway, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there before Howard appeared, a half-smile already in place, his phone still in hand.

“Bucky” Howard said, voice smooth as ever “I was worried you weren’t showing up”

“I almost did actually, had a long day, but I just… didn’t feel like being home alone at the same time”

Howard’s eyes softened “Then you did the right thing, get in, dinner is ready, but let’s open something special first!!”

Bucky smiled faintly, stepping past him “You and your bottles”

“Hey” Howard chuckled, walking toward the bar “they don’t open themselves you know”

He poured them each a drink, amber liquid catching the warm light, the smell of aged whiskey filled the room, smooth and heavy, they clinked glasses.

“To bad days” Howard said.

Bucky managed a smirk “And to pretending they’re not that bad”

They both took a sip.

For a while, they just talked, about surface things, Howard’s latest deal, the stock market, some upcoming gala he was hosting, Bucky nodded, smiled where it was polite, but he wasn’t really there, his mind was still tangled in Daisy’s face, in the sound of her voice when she told him to stay away, so when he said quietly “I’m taking a break from work” it wasn’t planned, it just slipped out and Howard didn’t even blink

“Good, Then we can finally have that vacation”

Bucky frowned, glass half-raised “Vacation?”

“Yeah, Italy, maybe or France! Hell, we could do both” Howard poured himself more whiskey, casual as if he were talking about groceries “You deserve a break”

Bucky smiled softly a small, tired smile “Sure. Why not”

Howard leaned in, kissed him brief, distracted, but affectionate in its own way, before his phone rang again, he sighed, answering it with one hand still on Bucky’s arm.

Bucky sat quietly while Howard paced the room, talking about mergers and contracts, throwing around numbers that sounded more like fiction than reality, by the time Howard hung up, Bucky had finished his drink and was staring out the window “You ever get tired?” he asked softly

“Of what?” Howard asked, almost amused

“Of all this”

Howard looked around, genuinely confused “Of success?”

Bucky smiled, shaking his head “Never mind”

That night blurred into warmth, into the weight of Howard’s hand on his back, into the kind of closeness that was more about habit than heat, just routine, it was easy, and that was the problem.

He fell asleep in silk sheets that smelled like someone else’s life, when he woke up again, the room was still dark, the city was quieter now, Bucky blinked at the ceiling, disoriented for a moment before remembering where he was, his hand reached out instinctively, brushing against the empty side of the bed, cold sheets, he sighed, Howard was gone, probably in the kitchen, already halfway through a late night meeting in another time zone, or maybe he’d gone to his office, either way, Bucky wasn’t surprised, Howard rarely stayed in bed past dawn, he sat up, bare skin meeting cool air, and reached for a shirt, his body ached pleasantly, a reminder of what happened earlier, but it didn’t feel… right, it never did anymore.

He wandered into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water, the place was spotless, like it always was, even after a long night, someone, probably the staff, had tidied everything up before dawn.

He turned on the TV to fill the silence, late-night reruns, laughter tracks, plastic cheer, it actually made him feel lonelier, he raided the pantry, found chips and leftover cookies, and went back to the couch, halfway through some random movie, his hand froze mid-reach, a stack of papers on the coffee table, plane tickets, he picked them up, two first-class tickets, Paris to Rome, one week apart, both names typed neatly: Howard Stark. James Barnes, so Howard was planning the trip already? And not because he was on a break? his heart stuttered, then he noticed the small velvet box beside them, he didn’t even need to open it, he already knew but he did anyway, Howard was actually planning forever…

The ring was simple, white gold, elegant, expensive in the quiet kind of way Howard favored, Bucky stared at it, his breath catching in his throat, there it was, his future, all planned out, folded neatly in Howard’s world of perfection, he set the box down slowly, his fingers trembling, his chest felt hollow.

He leaned back on the couch, eyes on the skyline, heart racing quietly beneath his ribs, he should have felt happy, loved, even but instead, he felt trapped and for the first time, Bucky let himself think, really think.

He thought about Howard, the way he always knew what to say, what to buy, what to offer, the way he filled every silence with confidence, never letting anything feel uncertain and yet, somehow, Bucky always felt like a guest in his life.

And then somehow he thought about Steve, about the way Steve listened, the way he said I’m here and actually meant it, the way a simple text from him had made Bucky feel seen in a way Howard’s entire world couldn’t.

He thought about Daisy, the guilt that still twisted in his gut, the fear, the helplessness and the silence that followed it, because Howard never asked because Howard didn’t see.

Bucky put his face in his hands and exhaled, long and shaky, he stayed like that for a while, until exhaustion finally pulled him under again.

The next morning smelled like espresso and aftershave, Howard was already dressed, of course, navy suit, silver cufflinks, tie perfectly knotted. The man was incapable of looking unpolished.

“Morning, sweetheart” he said when he saw Bucky in the doorway “You sleep alright?”

“Yeah” Bucky said softly “You?”

“Barely, calls from Tokyo” He smiled, gesturing toward the counter “Coffee’s fresh, come sit”

Bucky poured himself a cup, hands still unsteady, and sat across from him, he watched Howard scroll through his tablet, answer an email, take another sip of his drink.

Bucky set his mug down “Howard, we need to talk”

Howard froze mid-scroll, looked up “That sounds serious”

“It is”

Howard put the tablet aside, folding his hands “Alright, hit me”

Bucky took a deep breath “You should go to Europe without me”

Howard blinked “What?”

“I think we should end this”

The silence that followed was so thick Bucky could hear both hearbeats.

Howard’s eyes narrowed, confusion flickering into something like disbelief  “You’re serious”

“I am”

Howard laughed not cruelly, just in pure shock “You saw the ring didn’t you? That’s why you’re breaking up with me?”

“No” Bucky said quietly “I’m breaking up with you because I can’t keep pretending this is what I want”

Howard leaned back, studying him “You’ve been happy, haven’t you?”

Bucky looked down at his coffee “Have I?”

Howard frowned “Bucky… Did I do something wrong?”

“Howard, you didn’t do anything wrong, and that’s the problem” Bucky said softly “You’ve given me everything, everything that I dreamed of since forever, the dinners, the trips, the flowers, the gifts, you’ve been kind, but it’s not love”

Howard’s jaw tightened “You think love pays the bills?”

“No” Bucky said, voice still gentle “But it makes waking up in the morning worth it”

Howard let out a low exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose “You’re tired, that’s all this is, and forget the ring, I’ll wait, if you’re not ready yet, trust me you’ll feel different when we’re on the Amalfi coast”

“I won’t” Bucky said simply, Howard’s eyes flickered, caught off guard by the quiet certainty in his tone “I tried” Bucky continued “I really did, but I couldn’t, I’m not in love with you, I wanted to be!! God, I wanted to so bad, you made me feel safe, like I mattered, but lately… I just feel small”

Howard stared at him, the mask finally cracking “Small?”

Bucky nodded “Like I’m living in your shadow, like everything is about your world, your calls, your next deal and I’m just the guy who looks good beside you and let’s be honest, you’re not in love with me either, and this life of yours” Bucky added, gesturing vaguely around the pristine house “it’s too much for me, too overwhelming, I can’t keep up with it while trying to hold myself together, I can’t keep pretending I’m fine when I’m not”

Howard was silent for a moment, then he said softly “I never meant to make you feel like that”

“I know” Bucky said “You didn’t do it on purpose, you just live differently and that’s okay, but it’s not for me”

Howard swallowed hard, his gaze flicking toward the counter where the ring box still sat “So that’s it?”

Bucky looked at it too “Yeah… That’s it”

Howard was quiet for a long time, then he nodded once “You know, I really thought we were a good match”

“We were” Bucky said with a small smile “We just weren’t the right kind”

Howard didn’t fight it anymore “You’re sure?”

“I am”

Another pause, softer now, almost kind “Take care of yourself, Bucky”

“You too”

Bucky stood, took one last look around the house, the skyline, the life that had felt borrowed from the start, and walked to the door, when it shut behind him, the echo was the loudest sound he’d heard in months.

He didn’t go home right away, he walked for hours, no direction, no destination, just the city beneath his feet and the sound of his own breathing and when he finally stopped, it was at a small park bench overlooking the river, the sun was starting to set, gold light spilling across the water, he sat down and closed his eyes.

Steve had been promised a “fun night out” Bucky’s exact words had been: “It’s like Broadway, but with capes and shields!!! Natasha said we’ll love it!!!”

Now Steve was sitting in the plush velvet seat of a Broadway theater, squinting up at a stage drowning in purple smoke and glittering lights. The marquee outside had read MARVELous: The Show in big bold letters, he’d assumed it would be some lighthearted superhero musical, just like Rogers: The Musical, the one Clint told him about one day.

The show began.

Two women in skimpy star-spangled skirts saluted the crowd, hips swaying, the audience cheered, then the music swelled something familiar, like Dirty Dancing slowed down and given a bass-heavy beat, and then they appeared… Steve froze.

Onstage, under a spotlight, were them, or rather, men dressed barely as them.

Fake Steve was broad and golden, wearing nothing but boots, a grin, and a shield strapped across his crotch, fake Bucky had long hair falling in messy waves over his shoulders, his own shield slung low.

“...Huh,” Bucky murmured beside him, leaning forward in his seat “They… nailed the hair and the smoky eyes!”

Steve swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, nailed wasn’t the word he would’ve chosen, peeled, stripped, that felt closer because right now, fake Bucky had grabbed fake Steve by the hips, spinning him around with practiced ease before pressing flush against him.

The crowd roared.

Steve shifted in his seat, pulse pounding in places he really didn’t want to think about “This is… uh…”

“What?” Bucky’s voice was low and warm, curling around Steve’s ears in the dim “Too much?”

Steve forced out a laugh “Just… unexpected!!”

Onstage, things escalated, the two men performed the Dirty Dancing lift, shield placement strategic but barely, and when fake Steve sat fake Bucky down, his hands lingered in a way that made the heat under Steve’s skin crawl higher.

“Gotta admit” Bucky whispered, leaning so close his shoulder pressed into Steve’s “they’ve got chemistry”

Steve turned to him, and instantly regretted it, Bucky’s smirk was faint but loaded, his blue eyes sparkling in the dark.

The next scene left no room for subtlety, fake Bucky circled fake Steve like a predator, sliding a hand down his back until his palm cupped bare ass, the audience gasped, then laughed.

Steve’s ears went hot.

“You’re blushing” Bucky said, not even bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“I’m not” Steve lied.

“You are” Bucky said, his arm brushed against Steve’s again, on purpose this time, “You’ve got that… look”

Steve turned back toward the stage, trying and failing to ignore the growing awareness of how close Bucky was sitting, every shift in the seat seemed to bring them closer and the damned performance wasn’t helping: now the two actors were practically straddling each other, their shields angled just enough to hide, but not enough to leave much to the imagination.

“Does it bother you?” Bucky’s voice had dropped lower, teasing, but with a fragment of something else in it.

“What?”

“Seeing… us … like that”

Steve swallowed “It’s not us”

“Looks a lot like us”

Steve’s breath caught, he wanted to deny it, to laugh it off, but the truth was, his body had been reacting since the first moment they’d stepped onstage, and now, with Bucky leaning in like that warm, solid, familiar, it was harder to separate the performance from the man beside him.

“I guess…” Steve began, and hesitated. “I never thought about us like that”

“Never?” Bucky tilted his head, studying him, “Even with how Stark always teased you about me? Calling me your boyfriend?”

Steve tried to think of an answer, but then fake Bucky bent his fake Steve backward, licking a slow line up his chest in full view of the audience, the crowd roared and Steve’s stomach flipped.

Beside him, Bucky chuckled softly “You’re definitely thinking about it now”

Steve’s breath stuttered “Bucky…”

“What?” His tone was light, but his gaze was intent “It’s just a question!”

Steve didn’t answer, he couldn’t, his mind kept flashing between the heat of the stage and the heat of Bucky’s thigh pressed against his own.

The music built to a climax, fake Steve spun, their shields clanged together, and both men bowed, grinning, glowing under the lights.

The crowd stood up, Steve clapped slowly, mostly to distract himself from the fact that his palms were sweaty and his jeans felt too tight.

When the lights came up for intermission, Bucky didn’t move to leave his seat, instead, he leaned in, close enough that Steve could smell the faint cologne and soap on his skin.

“You okay?”

Steve exhaled slowly “Yeah… Just… warm in here”

Bucky’s grin was wicked “Sure it’s the room?”

Steve shot him a look, but Bucky didn’t look away for a long, loaded moment, they just sat there, the din of the crowd fading to a low hum in the background.

Finally, Bucky smirked “If you ever wanna… try the lift, you know… no shields required…”

Steve’s pulse jumped “You’re ridiculous!!”

“Yeah” Bucky said, eyes shining “But you’re still thinking about it!!”

And damn him he was right.

The show closed with the full cast onstage, flashing, muscles gleaming under stage lights, the crowd was still roaring oceans of applause. Steve and Bucky finally stood up, Steve clapping politely, telling himself yet again, the heat creeping up his neck was from the theater’s air, not from the images burned into his brain of fake Bucky cupping fake Steve’s bare ass.

And then it happened.

Fake Bucky spotted them, his grin widened into something wicked, he leaned in to murmur something to fake Steve, who turned towards the audience, eyes scanning until they found their targets, Steve’s stomach dropped.

“Uh-oh” Bucky beside him murmured, amused “They found us!!”

Before Steve could protest, two ushers were motioning for them to come forward, the audience cheered louder, people pointing, phones already raised.

“No way” Steve muttered.

“Yes way” Bucky said, clearly delighted, “C’mon, don’t be shy!!”

Dragged by Bucky’s enthusiasm and, okay, maybe a little curious, Steve let himself be led to the stage, the heat of the lights was immediate, blinding, fake Bucky clapped him on the shoulder, winking, while fake Steve grinned and pointed to the open space in the middle.

The crowd began chanting something that quickly resolved into: “The lift! The lift! The lift!!!”

Steve groaned “No! Absolutely not-”

“C’mon” Bucky said beside him, smirking like the devil himself “You’re Captain America!! You can handle lifting one guy!”

Before Steve could reply, fake Bucky was already demonstrating, guiding Bucky into position, Bucky leaned in close, his voice low enough only Steve could hear.

“You better not drop me, punk”

“You weigh a ton, jerk”

And then it happened, the crowd’s roaring, and Steve’s already shaking his head with that I can’t believe we’re doing this, across the stage, Bucky’s standing in position, smirk absolutely criminal.

They locked eyes before Bucky took off, boots pounding the stage, Steve planted his feet, arms ready, bracing for impact, at the last second, Bucky launched himself forward a perfect leap, vibranium arm glinting, chest open like he’s mid-battle charge.

Steve caught him around the waist, muscles straining as he lifted Bucky effortlessly into the air, the crowd exploded as Steve lifted him high overhead, holding Bucky steady like he weighted nothing.

Bucky’s arms were spread wide, head tipped back, hair falling down, laughing not the small, quiet laugh Steve knows, but a loud, unrestrained one that’s all adrenaline and trust, Steve’s now grinning up at him like he’s just won a war.

They held it for a bit too long, then, he sat Bucky down, their bodies lingered too close, Bucky’s smirk said he knew exactly what that pause meant.

The curtain call finished, applause still echoing, and they were released back into the night, the air outside was cool, crisp and nothing like the thick heat between them.

They walked home in near silence, just the sound of their steps, but the quiet wasn’t comfortable anymore, it was loaded.

Steve’s mind kept replaying the warmth of Bucky’s waist under his hands, the way Bucky laughed, and the little smirk afterwards.

“You’re quiet” Bucky said at last.

“Just… thinking” Steve replied.

“About the show?”

Steve shot him a look “About how I’m gonna kill you for dragging me up there”

Bucky chuckled “Sure, that’s what you’re thinking about”

They reached the corner where they usually parted ways, Steve’s building on one side, Bucky’s a few blocks down, Steve hesitated at first…

“You… wanna come up?” The words left him before he could think.

Bucky’s eyebrows rose “You sure?”

“Yeah” His voice was steadier than he felt.

Inside, Steve’s apartment was dim and quiet, he shut the door, turning to find Bucky leaning casually against the wall, eyes sparkling in the low light.

“So…” Bucky said, “you gonna tell me what was going on in that head of yours during the lift?”

Steve’s throat went dry “Nothing”

“Liar” Bucky murmured, stepping closer, “You had that same look you had during the show, like you didn’t know whether to watch or-” he stopped just short to touch his face “-or join in”

Steve’s out of breath…

Bucky reached up, brushing a lock of hair from Steve’s forehead “Tell me to stop”

Steve didn’t … Couldn’t.

And then Bucky kissed him, slow at first, testing, before Steve’s hands were in his hair, dragging him closer, the taste of him was intoxicating: new but somehow familiar, dangerous in all the right ways.

The kiss deepened, hands roaming, the press of bodies quickly becoming desperate, Bucky shoved Steve’s jacket off, fingers tracing the muscle of his arms, “You really are strong enough for that lift” Bucky teased, lips ghosting over Steve’s jaw.

Steve huffed a laugh, but it broke into a gasp as Bucky’s hands slipped under his shirt, palms hot against bare skin, their lips met again.

Bucky groaned into his mouth, biting at his lower lip before shoving him toward the couch, Steve sat heavily, Bucky climbing into his lap in one smooth motion, knees bracketing his thighs.

Steve’s hands went to Bucky’s hips automatically, feeling the heat of him even through denim, Bucky rolled his hips forward, grinding down, and Steve swore under his breath.

“You liked the shields during that show huh?” Bucky murmured against his jaw, kissing his way to Steve’s ear “Got you thinking about what’s underneath”

Steve’s reply was a rough, “Yeah” as his hands slipped under Bucky’s shirt, pushing it up, palms spread over hot skin.

Bucky shrugged out of the shirt, letting it fall, Steve’s eyes dragged over his chest, the scars, the solid lines of muscle and then Bucky leaned in to kiss him again, tongue sliding against his, and Steve’s fingers were already working at the button of his jeans.

Bucky chuckled against his mouth “Impatient, Stevie?”

“Shut up” Steve muttered, shoving denim down over Bucky’s hips.

Bucky stood just long enough to kick them off, stripping his briefs in the same motion, and Steve’s breath caught at the sight, Bucky, flushed, hard, unashamed.

Steve’s own clothes came off in a blur, Bucky pushed him back into the cushions, straddling him again, bare skin to bare skin now, the contact sending a jolt straight to Steve’s groin.

“Fuck” Steve gasped, gripping his ass and pulling him closer.

Bucky’s grin was wicked as he rocked against him, their cocks sliding together in a slick, heated glide, the friction was maddening, Bucky’s breath hot against his mouth as he muttered “Bet you’ve never thought about us like this before tonight”

Steve’s answer was a strangled moan, his hands moving restlessly over Bucky’s back, down to the curve of his ass, squeezing.

Bucky nipped at his neck, murmuring, “We could take it slow… or we could make up for lost time, it’s up to you”

“Lost time” Steve said, without hesitation.

Bucky’s grin sharpened, he reached between them, wrapping his hand around both of them, stroking in long, steady pulls that made Steve’s head fall back against the couch.

The pace built quickly, years of tension funnelling into every thrust, every gasp. Bucky’s other hand tangled in Steve’s hair, pulling his head back so he could kiss him deep, messy, desperate.

“Look at you” Bucky panted, eyes half-lidded “Strong enough to lift me in front of a whole crowd, and now-” he rolled his hips, squeezing tighter “you’re gonna come just from me in your lap.”

Steve’s nails dug into Bucky’s hips, “Not… gonna last…”

“Good” Bucky said, voice low and filthy, he sped his hand, and the sounds of skin on skin filled the room, Steve’s world narrowed to heat, pressure, Bucky’s weight grinding down on him, the slick slide between them.

It hit fast, Steve’s back arching, his release spilling hot between them, Bucky followed seconds later with a groan, his body shuddering against Steve’s and for a moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing.

Bucky finally shifted, smirking as he looked down at the mess between them “Guess we need shields after all”

Steve laughed, breathless, pulling him in for one more kiss, “Not tonight”

“Damn right” Bucky replied.

What followed was nothing choreographed, nothing staged, just raw, pent-up need spilling over.

Every touch, every kiss was electric, charged by years of unspoken tension and tonight’s unexpected catalyst.

By the time they finally collapsed together, skin slick, breathing hard, Steve couldn’t remember why he’d ever thought of Bucky as just a friend.

Bucky, chuckled low, “So… when do we rehearse for our own show?”

Steve laughed, breathless, “We just did”

“No, this isn’t enough, I have to memorize it”

“Okay, but we’re not doing it in front of a crowd”

“Fine” Bucky murmured, smirking “Private performances only”

Steve’s Cabin – Late Evening

The cabin is quiet. Steve sits on the edge of the narrow bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely in front of him. He hasn’t turned on the lights. He hasn’t moved in twenty minutes.

He keeps hearing the same words.

“Different people. Different… types.”

And then that question , casual on the surface, but it hadn’t landed like a casual question.

“You ever try something different?”

At the time, Steve hadn’t answered. He couldn’t. Not because he didn’t have one, but because he didn’t know if Bucky wanted the truth, or if he was just tossing a line into the water to see what Steve would do.

He’d replayed the moment a hundred times since then.

Bucky hadn’t said it outright. He never used the word men. Never spelled anything out. But something in the way he looked at Steve, like he was already bracing for something, like he’d already done the math, had made Steve’s heart stutter in a way he didn’t know it still could.

Because Steve had tried. Years ago. Quiet, discreet moments of confusion and shame and late-night realizations he never quite knew how to voice. It had never gone anywhere. It had never felt like enough to claim, not in the world he came from. Not in the body he wore. Not with the expectations that had followed him like shadows.

But now… Bucky.

Bucky, who he’d spent a decade arguing with. Bucky, who knew the exact placement of the tattoos he thought were private. Bucky, who remembered a woman in a red dress from ten years ago and who asked if Steve had ever wanted someone unexpected, someone he wasn't sure he was allowed to want.

Steve leans back on the bed, pressing his palms flat against the mattress, staring at the ceiling. The silence feels thick.

Was that what Bucky meant?

Or was Steve just hoping that’s what he meant?

There had been something tentative in Bucky’s tone. Not baiting. Not even flirty, not exactly. Just… vulnerable. Like he was reaching for something and leaving Steve to decide if he’d reach back.

Steve shuts his eyes.

He can still feel the look they shared right after. The stillness. The question that never really ended.

He doesn’t have an answer yet.

But for the first time in years, he wants to find one.

Bucky’s Cabin – Same Night

The bed’s too firm, the blanket too scratchy, and the silence too loud.

Bucky lies flat on his back, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers. His arms are folded behind his head, elbows wide, fingers drumming restlessly against his skull. He hasn’t moved in over an hour. Can’t.

His words keep playing back in his head.

“Different people. Different… types.” “You ever try something different?”

It was subtle. He’d made sure of that. He didn’t say men. Didn’t say I’ve liked you for ten years and I’m pretty sure you’ve never even looked at me like that, because he didn’t want to ruin it, whatever “it” even was.

Still, the silence Steve gave him after… it wasn’t empty. It was something.

Bucky had felt it. The way Steve looked at him. The way his hand tightened slightly on the fishing rod. The way he didn’t answer,  not in a way that said no. Not in a way that shut the door.

And that scared the hell out of him.

Because what if Steve was just too polite to tell him he crossed a line?

What if that was Bucky reaching too far, again, and he just made it awkward between them?

He shuts his eyes and exhales through his nose.

He shouldn’t have brought up the woman in the red dress. He doesn’t even know why he remembered her so clearly. Except he does.

It was the first time he saw Steve,  really saw him, and realized that charm and confidence and warmth could look like that. That a man could be all steel and softness in one package, smiling like he didn’t even know what it did to people.

To Bucky.

That was when everything started.

And it only got worse when they became… whatever they are now. Colleagues. Friends. Close, in a way that dug under Bucky’s skin and stayed there. Close enough to hurt. Close enough to hope.

He rolls over and presses his face into the pillow, groaning quietly. He feels like an idiot. Like a high schooler circling a crush with cryptic mixtapes and meaningful glances.

He should’ve just kept his mouth shut.

Or , if he were braver, he should’ve just asked.

"Steve, have you ever wanted a man?" "Steve, have you ever wanted me?"

But no. Bucky Barnes doesn’t do brave when it comes to things like this.

Now all he can do is lie here and wonder if Steve caught it. If Steve’s still thinking about it. If he’ll bring it up again, or if Bucky just buried it in silence like everything else he’s ever been afraid to say.

He turns onto his back again and stares at the ceiling, thoughts swirling too loud in the silence, so he got up, dragged himself to the chair, let out a heavy sigh, and buried his face in his hand, elbow resting on his knee.

Please, he thinks. Just let him understand what I meant.