fossilised | For Steve

Steve flattened his face into his chin, nose wrinkling. Why was this something that kept coming up? He knew he was terrible at hiding it but Bucky really needed to learn not to call attention to these things. Steve was doing his best here. It was a little new to him. He was sure that if the other Bucky had known, and maybe he did, he would just ignore it and let Steve keep his dignity.

But no. Huffing, Steve swallowed a rise of bile back down where it belonged, his fingertips lightly pressing back against the wall, poised perhaps to help him duck away from the other man.

He tried a shallow laugh. "Buck-- I'm sorry. I'm trying not to be. I'm really trying to stop it, I know it's inappropriate and considering what you went through, I completely understand if--" Soft lips cut him off, but not in words.

It didn't matter if there wasn't passion in that soft kiss because it was better than what Steve had imagined kissing would be lip. It tingled in all of the best way, stealing his breath and causing his eyes to close. His body might have stiffened, but that was only because he didn't know what to do. In movies, there was a lot of arm movements and head tilts. He'd seen Bucky kiss girls a few times, but only on the cheek. No girl would ever let herself be kissed in public any other way.

Steve's eyebrows furrowed as Bucky pulled back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered immediately, hand covering his lips to keep the illicit warmth there.

Steve tasted of mint and asthma cigarettes, a weird blend of herbal and medicinal tastes, with an underlying warmth that seemed all him. It hit Bucky like a fist directly to the solar plexus and, even if he had never tasted it before to feel familiar, it still dislodged some memories from wherever they had been hiding in his head.

"You bought my first pair of boxing gloves for when I wanted to go pro. You spent your food money on it that week, thought I wouldn't notice you eating ketchup packets from the diner."

His words were soft, before he bent again to capture Steve's lips more insistently. If he had heard the apology or the excuses then they didn't register with him. He didn't want to trap Steve, and definitely not force him, but he was not making it that easy to get away.

It was strange to hear that as a response. One didn't normally tell an apologizing man about the time he'd been gifted gloves. Steve's eyes had softened as he spoke and his lips had parted ever so slightly because he had been about to mention that he hadn't just been eating ketchup packets but also honey and grape jelly which, if you asked him, did make an interesting and filling meal. He would have followed thst up with saying that Bucky had needed those gloves because his own were ratty and no amount of wrapping up his hands would have saved him in the ring without the right equipment. He'd get two punches in and break a wrist, ending his career. He might even have mentioned that he was so happy to hear he remembered something, but speaking when there were insistent lips against your own was not as effective as having to only worry about one pair.

This was insanity, he thought to himself before his thoughts dissolved away. How the heck was this even happening? God was going to strike them down!

Or worse, he might get some strange idea that kissing Bucky was unlocking his memories. Steve didn't want to think of himself as some fairytale princess. And he absolutely did not want to think of Bucky Barnes as Sleeping Beauty or Snow White, waiting for a kiss to stir them from their slumber.

His hand finally gripped Bucky's arm, the metal one, and slipped up to his shoulder. Steve exhaled through his nose and breathed Bucky in, sweat and determination and strength. He countered it with the utmost sweetness and would continue to do so until this hazy, beautiful dream ended.

This time Bucky was more focused on himself than Steve, on seeing if this did knock anything else loose in his head. But this wasn't a fairytale, and he wasn't Sleeping Beauty to have his true self awoken after a kiss. He was a damaged man and Steve was just that important to him.

Not that the kiss was unpleasant, Steve's lips were soft and warm, he didn't feel threatening up against Bucky, and so he sparked no feelings of anything but comfort and security until he pulled away. It was then, for the first time, that the tiniest little smile appeared at the corners of Bucky's lips.

"I don't think I mind."

Being found attractive, he meant. Not by Steve, anyway.

"Better you than a waitress."

"You must have kissed some pretty awful waitresses then," Steve shot right back, though he couldn't help but feel happy and centered. Maybe it would all flood in later and really mess him up or make him feel bad or afraid for what he'd done, but right now he felt fantastic and no amount of Christian guilt was going to weigh him down.

This chance at seeing Bucky smile actually had Steve laughing and he lightly pushed back on that metal arm to slip out from where he had been pinned.

"I'm still gonna put some pants on," he said, holding the back of his gown closed. "And I really think we both could use something to eat. Not just ketchup packets...?"

They would have such a large place in his heart now, honestly. Just a conclusion to a kiss, but certainly the best one he'd ever had.

And no. It hardly mattered that Bucky had taken up the first at all.

At least Steve's bag of clothes was in the bedroom, not that he had many that weren't threadbare or hung too big on his skinny frame, but they had to be better than a backless hospital gown. At least Bucky let Steve go and didn't pursue him, not quite the rogue of old who might not let a potential conquest get away that easily. Not that he had ever pushed where he wasn't wanted, but he hadn't given up right away either.

"What if he's out there, watching for us?"

He scrubbed a hand across his face, some of the tension returning once more now that he thought about leaving their fortified sanctuary. Even if the other Steve wasn't looking for him yet, surely he would want to seek out the skinny version of himself to make sure that he had spoken to Bucky as requested.

Once his pants were on, Steve came back out of the room, pulling the gown out from under the waist band. "He said it was almost impossible to track you. I think he only found me because of hospital records. There's no way he could find us here."

Steve was pretty sure of that. There was nothing to link him to this apartment unless Bucky put it in their real names. He'd been on the run for a long time though. He had to know how to protect his identity and stay hidden.

Steve felt both shy and utterly like a peacock, wanting to strut around Bucky right now. He settled for half smiling with his arms crossed over his chest.

It might have been for the best if Bucky were brave enough to talk to the other Steve, to get him to walk away himself, but he couldn't do it. He had so much fear that he wouldn't just find Steve waiting there, or that he wouldn't give up on Bucky that easily, or even that he himself wouldn't be able to walk away again with strong resolve once he had come face to face with his best friend.

"Alright."

He was going to trust Steve on this for now. If they got found, though, either one of them, he would have to take them much deeper undercover and find a way to change their whole identities.

"Does your arm hurt?"

"A little." Which meant a whole, whole lot. The ache was turning more into a shooting pain, but Steve was doing his best to suck it up. That's just what men did. They sucked it all up and held it in until they were alone. Or so movies and the guys in his classes taught him. "I'm more hungry than anything." He couldn't get his belt on, but he assumed that his coat would cover up any unseemliness. "We should go and eat. Everything else will be taken care of as we go."

They'd been relying on each other for almost two weeks now, but it felt like a life time to Steve. Bucky had not always been like this, but he was still Bucky and he still had long summers and longer winters of memories of the two of them together. He trusted Bucky implicitly, despite their setbacks and despite the way that kiss was making him feel, and he knew that they would be all right as long as they stayed together and kept working as a team.

"What's in the neighborhood? I didn't get a good look at anything while you were pretending to be a trolley," he quipped with a friendly, if somewhat pained smile.

Bucky might not remember Steve as well as he would like to, but he knew enough to recognise that smile for what it was. He was pretending not to hurt. Maybe for his own pride, maybe for Bucky's sake so that he wouldn't worry. A flash of memory came to him, Steve pale and drawn, the rattle of his breathing suggesting there was fluid on his lungs, still smiling as if nothing was wrong.

"You need to tell me when it hurts," he said, a quiet admonishment. "You don't have to bear this alone, you never have. I'm with you til the end of the line, pal."

The words just came out, almost on autopilot, but they felt right. The same words he had said when Steve had lost his Mom and refused to rely on anyone, the same words that Steve had parroted back at him on the helicarrier. They were words that meant something far deeper than just words now.

"C'mere, I'll put your belt on for you."

"It's nothing I can't handle," Steve attempted to interject but Bucky was already out with the line that left him feeling warm and comfortable again. His mom hadn't passed too long ago that it was still raw. But it hasn't been long enough for him not to feel a tinge. He blond tilted his head down before he glanced back up at Bucky and went to fetch the belt that was on the back of the doorknob with one of his shirts. He'd left on the hospital gown because he wouldn't be able to do up the buttons but if Bucky was going to help him out anyway... "It hurts a little, but it's not agony or anything. Just uncomfortable."

He stood in the room that would be his, Bucky's just next door, and worked on untying the gown. The door partially hit him as he struggled, first to pull the garment off and then to get the long sleeved button down shirt on. The sleeve just barely fit over his cast.

it was strange to stand in the hall with Bucky, his shirt left over and his belt in his hand. Steve thought it might make him feel weak to be dressed, or useless, but the truth of the matter was that the brush of Bucky's fingers against his skin as he did up buttons was alluring and having his arms around him to lace the belt was good enough to make Steve miss it when it was over.

"Thanks, Buck. I feel a little more human myself now," he replied softly at the end. They were still standing too close. Or had they always? Memories of every time before now seemed fluid and a little tainted with the feeling of acceptance for what he wanted. And had always wanted.

It was such a small thing for him to give to Steve, being able to be fully dressed in a way that was acceptable by society's standards, but he understood all too well how the small things could make a big difference. So when Steve thanked him and actually used his own words half back at him, Bucky smiled. Really and genuinely smiled.

"You don't look too shabby either."

For just a moment he felt like he belonged somewhere. It was fleeting and it passed quickly, but he wouldn't forget it. When he took himself back and out of Steve's personal space, it was with a tiny sense of loss. That close he was so warm and seemed like an anchor, a rock in the storm, and he could know with absolute certainty that he would be able to protect Steve.

"But you have to tell me when it hurts."

He wasn't going to let that go, he didn't want Steve suffering in silence when Bucky might be able to help him.

"Well that's saying something. I don't remember the last time in washed these clothes." Twice now Steve had seen that smile, a glimmer of a real one, and he could not help himself but smile right back, bigger and brighter than usual. These smiles, once so freely given, we're now precious and rare. He would collect each one in his memory. He didn't want to take full credit for being able to help Bucky in this way, but it still warmed him to know that the sickness he had been reading would infect his best friend actually seemed to be working itself out. Like Bucky said-- what mattered was happiness.

Now if only they could live in the world that Bucky came from, when happiness was acceptable!

"All right, all right. No need to strong arm me. It hurts," Steve confided, making one last tuck of his shirt into his pants. "It's just a really deep ache right now. It hasn't gotten too sharp yet." His last dose of pain killers was just about eight hours ago now, and soon the ache would ramp up and he'd be in agony.

That too, Steve would take with grace.

Maybe they could live in Bucky's world. What was there for Steve here but a possibility of a project that might never come to fruition? The other Steve must have a way to get back there, a way that he planned on using with Bucky too, so maybe they could all three go. Live in a world where being with another man wasn't the worst sin in the world.

"Food and medicine."

He would find a way to get Steve some proper painkillers considering it was because of him that Steve had left the hospital at all. He opened the door and stepped aside, for all the world as if he were escorting a dame out to dinner.

"If you see anyone-- if we have to run, make your way back here, okay?"

A plan was a good idea. It distracted him from how Bucky was behaving. His mind hadn't caught up quite yet to the possibility that kissing Bucky wasn't going to damn his soul. Being emasculated by being considered the gal about to step out with a handsome GI was maybe a little too over the top. Steve had to prove his masculinity on a daily basis. He wanted to be treated as Bucky had always treated him.

The growl of his stomach did provide a bit of a relief from those thoughts, however, and he accepted Bucky's help into the truck.

"We'll meet back here if we get seperated," he agreed, making sure he watched where they are going as they drove out of their tree lined Washington DC neighborhood towards a little part of town lined with shops. "It's a little too much like home," Steve mused as they drove. "But.... Not. The streets are cleaner. And there isn't as much light."

He didn't quite have his nose pressed to the window but nearly.

"There's no where near as many flowers either. How does a city manage so many people and so much green space?" Steve was just talking out loud as Bucky parked and women in blue and yellow dresses accompanied men in smart suits into a bowling alley or a fancy restaurant or a theater across the way.

Steve couldn't help but love DC.

Bucky had seen a lot of cities in his life throughout the span of decades, and so one more was nothing to him. They all blurred into one eventually, just endless buildings and endless faces, dressed in varying clothes with different skin tones. But to see DC through Steve's eyes, it made it all a little exciting again.

He pulled up outside a little bistro with a striped awning overlooking a little pond, and a gaggle of nicely dressed women inside serving sandwiches and ice cream sundaes to the various patrons. It was the least likely place for anyone to come looking for them, which was why Bucky had chosen it.

"I got some money when I got the truck, real-- I mean, the other money is real, but this is money from this time. So order what you want."

Don't ask him how he did it, Steve would not approve. He had stolen it, the truck too, and made sure neither could be traced down as stolen to either of them. It was just one of his many unsavoury skills.

"Yeah?" It wasn't like Steve could eat a lot anyway, but it was nice to have the option to have more than some soup and coffee. He could slid down from the truck himself and he smiled at a woman in a navy polka dot dress as he held the door for her. She had on these little lacy white gloves that fancy women wore out. It excited him to be having dinner in a place like this.

There was music on inside and people were laughing and joking happily, everyone excited for the end of the war. Rows of men's hard lined the wall and Steve followed a waitress to one of the window seats, feeling very smart for just being in the presence of so many well dressed people.

He sat with a grin at a table with a cotton printed cloth across it and accepted some water and his menu.

"This is-- wow. This is a really great place!" So great that Steve decided to order the meatballs and spaghetti. It was something he hadn't been able to afford in a really long time.

Bucky didn't mind if Steve wanted to order himself some substantial food, even if this place was a bit more upmarket. He ordered himself a steak, one of the most expensive dishes on the menu, because if he didn't start packing away the calories then he was going to be in trouble.

The waitress gave them both a big smile, she could be charming to any fella with that kind of money to throw around, and brought them some milkshakes and soda to drink while they were waiting.

"I'm going to make sure you always have enough food."

It's such a stupid promise, but it feels like something tangible that he can give. Steve was a weedy runt of a guy with a lot of health problems, something as simple as good meals consistently might make all the difference.

Having a provider was almost more important than a protector. The economy was assured to get better with the end of war, supplies would be less limited, but Steve didn't have many marketable skills right now. Not with his health problems. And there was almost so much work for artists. He didn't mean to become a blushing fool but the words were charged and romantic and Steve almost choked on his milkshake, eyes snapping to Bucky and away from darkened window where he was watching everyone's reflections in the window. "Buck-- Thank you," he said, sincerely. "I... I hope I can repay even half of this one day."

Bucky always fixed him with such intense eyes that they always seemed dark enough for Steve to see himself in them. Tonight was no different. He could forget the pain in his arm and the fact that they were likely being followed and searched for, just to get lost in them. But staring like that was going to get them in trouble and so Steve lowered his eyes at once and made an effort to stir the thick malt around like he had been meaning to.

They were just two guys out to eat. Enjoying the festivities that the capital would be offering them in the next few days. They certainly had a lot of gazes towards their table too. Mostly at Bucky. He cut such a fine form in his clothing. Steve needed to make a conscious gesture not to go back to staring.

"Maybe-- we should try a dance hall... To see if it jogs more of your memories. After dinner I mean. If you can even move from all that steak!"

Why would Bucky ever need Steve to repay anything? All he ever wanted now was to remain close by and be allowed to protect his friend, that was payment enough for any amount of providing. He would make sure that Steve had the freedom to be able to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. If that was pursuing Erskine's research, then so be it.

"You sure that's safe?"

Dance halls were crowded places full of dark corners, it would be so easy for an enemy to hide in wait there and trap them both. It would be conspicuous, it would be public, it would be loud, it would be-- maybe nice. Did he really used to be a good dancer? That wasn't a skill he could remember at all.

"I don't know where any dance halls are in the city."

But if Steve wanted to go to one, and he was sure it wouldn't be too risky, then he would go along with him and even twirl him around the dance floor.

"Well maybe when my arm is fixed. And we get settled. Maybe I'll even dance." Not likely. Steve couldn't keep up. He could lift or swing any gals and he'd just feel silly. "We should get a radio. There's bound to be a few good stations to listen to down here. Maybe that will help you remember your moves."

Steve was trying to be helpful, and Bucky was so much less rigid than he had been even just a few days ago. Maybe it was premature to relax, but Steve felt his shoulders loosening and his posture moving more towards than table than against the chair.

Their meals were brought right up and Steve pushed his half finished milkshake away to dig into the big plate of pasta. It was more of a delight than he would have thought and he gestured with his right hand, fork full of meatball, as he spoke with more animation than usual. A good meal with good company and a new lease on life would certainly do that.

Right now, he was feeling as if nothing at all could ever go wrong again.

He would only be able to eat half of his meal. The rest was bundled up to take home and though they had parked nearby, Steve suggested a walk. Just down to the duck pond. The lights of the Capital Building stood out against the black sky and Steve breathed in sweeter air than Brooklyn ever had. "So do we have to become Senators fans now? Or can we keep rooting for Brooklyn?"

Bucky almost enjoyed himself at the meal. The steak was flavoursome and well cooked, the atmosphere was genial, and Steve was obviously having a wonderful time. It was good-- really good to see him enjoying himself, to see him relax, and it transferred onto Bucky too. Though he did less talking, mostly listening to Steve go on about everything and nothing, he looked more at ease when they walked out.

"I don't think I'm a fan of either, but you can be a fan of whoever you want," he said, though the old Bucky would have playfully socked him in the shoulder for daring to not support Brooklyn. "Do you think any stores will still be open to buy a radio? Maybe you can show me a step or two."

He didn't want to dance with a dame, he wanted to dance with Steve. Surely his pal would be the best person to-- To-- He froze in place, his eyes going wide as he spotted the other Steve on the other side of the road. Their eyes meet and then Bucky is just gone, off running like a man possessed.

"BUCK--! Buck, wait!" Steve called, but it echoed uselessly after him. Not that Steve pursued, he just jogged over to where the other Steve was, looking distressed. "Sorry, I didn't know..."

But that wasn't true, was it? Of course Steve had known. He'd said as much to him in the hospital. Steve turned to watch a young couple dart out of the way as if they were shoved aside. That was about all he was capable of seeing until Bucky disappeared.

"He left a hole in the window at the hospital as soon as he found out you were here," Steve snapped, trying not to feel bitter at an otherwise nice night ruined. He'd obviously been standing there watching them together through the window. Another couple were sitting there now and looking just as happy as he had been feeling. His stomach twisted a little, suddenly protective over the small amount of Bucky he had retrieved and ever flinching smile given to him.

Why hadn't Bucky just grabbed him and run? Steve didn't like being left behind. And he certainly had no ability to lose this Steve.

"How did you find us?" He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to always be on the run. "Because if it's so easy for you, it's going to be easy for HYDRA."

Steve's face was lined with pain that he was doing his best to conceal, heartbroken over how terrified his best friend seemed to be of him. Why him and only him? Why did he not run from the other Steve? Other people? Was it-- did he blame Steve for what happened to him and all the years that Captain America had been saving other people while he failed to notice the one person who really needed his help?

His head bowed and shoulders slumped for a moment, and he had to swallow a couple of times to keep his eyes from getting wet, but he forced it down. Forced himself to composure.

"I really didn't know. I knew you were in DC because Erskine is here, I was just walking and-- I didn't mean to scare him."

The most difficult thing about this was that he was dealing with himself. The other Steve was older and had seen so much more than he had, he knew more than he had, he helped other people more than he had. But that didn't mean that he had changed, though. He was still just as broken up about Bucky that he had been himself.

And Steve knew why. He had been in love with him for longer than was imaginable, unable or willing to put that label on it because of societal pressures and the fear of God.

"He doesn't want to go back," Steve said, trying to be gentle now. "He doesn't want to run and hide. It's not that he feels like he has to run from you.... But HYDRA wants him back. He told me there are trigger words that will force him to be a killer again. And if you can find him here, they can too." His eyes lifted to a version of himself he could barely think to aspire to be. It was so alien to him. "They hurt him worse than you can imagine."

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