James "Bucky" Barnes left Brooklyn when he was 16 and he's been trying to get back ever since.
Leaving a bustling, trendy city for a tiny backwoods town in the middle of Missouri was bad enough, but he had to leave the school where he was popular and cool and on the baseball team and become the weird new kid among a bunch of students who'd all known each other since they were five. At a school that didn't have a baseball team.
Worst of all was leaving his best friend behind. He'd met Steve Rogers on the first day of High School when he stepped in to help this skinny little blond who was getting pummelled by a kid twice his size, only to discover, once he'd chased off the attacker and hauled the blond off the floor, that he'd jumped in to defend a girl the bully was picking on. They'd been fast friends ever since, if only because Steve clearly had a death wish and somebody had to look out for him.
God only knew what he'd get up to without Bucky around.
He couldn't even be mad about it because he knew that the only reason they were moving was because his grandfather was sick and there was this whole thing about the family farm and his legacy and if Bucky and his family didn't move back to help out it would break the old man's heart. Bucky actually liked his grandfather, he just didn't like the stupid town where his stupid farm was.
Over the years he became more withdrawn, helped his grandfather fix the farm equipment and got a weekend job at the garage in the town, spending more time with grumpy old men than he did with anybody his own age. He got into motorbikes, got an old one cheap from his boss at the garage and fixed it up himself.
After his grandfather died he split his time between the garage and the farm - when he had to. He'd much rather pick up a skill that wouldn't keep him tied to one location. Or, rather, that wouldn't keep him tied to this location.
When he was 20 his boss arranged for him to do an apprenticeship in St. Louis, working at a motorcycle garage there. The summer before he left there was an accident with one of the machines and Bucky came out of it with one less arm and one less job opportunity - the apprenticeship couldn't wait for all the recovery and rehab he'd have to do, and who'd ever heard of a one-armed mechanic?
He moved to St Louis anyway, he didn't want to stay on the farm and nobody really blamed him. He became even more withdrawn and bitter than he'd been before. When he did make friends, it was with a group of bikers who were not exactly the best influence on him. The less said about his record during that time, the better.
One good thing came out of it, though. Bucky had started drawing when he left New York; it was a hobby he could do by himself, wherever he was, and it always made him think of home - Steve had always been doodling something or other, he had real talent. So did Bucky (after years of practice) and so when one of the bikers saw him sketching a design on a bar napkin, he was quick to sugggest Bucky talk to a buddy of his who was looking for an apprentice tattoo artist.
That, it turns out, was something he could do with one arm, and he was pretty damn good at it actually. Good enough for an actual career, good enough to reach the point where a shop of his own was a viable option.
Since by that point he needed to get out of St. Louis before he got himself in real trouble, he knew exactly where he wanted to go.
White Wolf Tattoos has been open for a month now, just round the corner from his old neighbourhood, and business is really starting to pick up.
He hasn't got around to looking anybody up yet, he tells himself it's because he's been busy getting the shop set up, but really he knows it's because he doesn't know if they'll even remember him, or how different he'll be to what they expect, or how ready he is to explain to yet another person exactly what happened to his arm when he can't just brush it off with 'accident' the way he can with a curious stranger.
For now, he's happy enough being back in Brooklyn, away from all the places that hold bad memories and doing a job he loves. The shop is quiet today, he doesn't have any clients pre-booked so he's just sitting behind the counter reading a battered old copy of Lord of the Rings waiting to see if he gets any walk-ins.
It's been a long time since Steve's been in the old neighborhood. After his mom died, he'd lived with Coach Fury's family for the remainder of his senior year and the moment he'd graduated he'd enlisted in the Army. He didn't want to be a burden, especially when he knew a teacher's salary didn't stretch very far as it was. That and he'd always been a little enamored with the fact that his dad had been a military man. He'd had romantic notions about duty and noble intentions and they'd quickly been dashed by the reality that had greeted him at boot camp. It had been a miracle that he'd been allowed to join in the first place, but he hadn't been prepared for the way the drill sergeant had made it his personal mission to make his life hell and get him to quit. But if Steve was anything, it was stubborn. He'd dug his heels in and pushed himself to his furthest limits, eventually earning the respect of his troop and the sergeant.
He knew he was never going to be the perfect soldier, he'd been dealt a lousy hand when it came to his body, but his mind had always been sharp and he'd developed a knack for persevering, even when his best and only friend had moved away, even when his mom had died, even when the world told him at every chance it got that he was worthless and a waste of space. The army gave him the tools and the opportunity to prove himself. He'd volunteered to go on the most dangerous assignments and when he'd been tapped to participate in project rebirth, he'd jumped at the chance. Doctor Erskine had taken an immediate liking to him and allowed him to participate in the medical trials of his new drug. He'd fallen in love with a girl as stubborn as himself and they'd danced around each other as they'd worked on the project until Doctor Erskine's untimely passing. Then she'd been shipped off to an elite squad doing god knew what, god knew where, and Steve had been left with a handful of regrets and being the only living proof that Erskine's formula had worked in healing and improving human DNA.
Project Rebirth had quickly gone downhill after Erskine, the doctor that followed him pushing Steve to his physical limits as he tried to recreate the formula. Steve should've known there was something wrong when he'd started getting the migraines that made it hard for him to see straight, but he hadn't wanted to believe that he might be losing this new lease on life.
He'd spent the last six months embroiled in court martial hearings behind closed doors, testifying about his experiences and the side effects. After everything, they'd given him an honorable discharge and a bus ticket home and here he was. Right where he'd started. His benefits gave him enough to scrape by on, but he found himself completely lost when it came to trying to find work. He'd been trained to be a soldier and with no war to fight and a country that wanted to forget about him, he'd found himself wandering the old neighborhood more days than not.
He stops to glance at his reflection in a display window, staring at the stranger looking back at him. Sometimes he doesn't even recognize the scrawny kid he used to be in that face or the broad shoulders. He supposes he should be grateful that the never fading feeling of not being enough is something that keeps pushing him forward, even in his darkest times. His eyes focus on the artwork taped up against the window and he studies it for a moment, noting the clean lines and clever shading. It's a tattoo shop where there used to be a bodega that sold expired soup cans. In a moment of pure impulse Steve decides to step inside. His body might be something he's never had complete control over, but the idea of making a part of it wholly his own is something he can't push away.
He smiles at the guy behind the counter reading a worn copy of Lord of the Rings. It's not exactly the kind of proprietor he'd expected, but it's a welcome surprise. The shop is quiet, a light humming noisily overhead. "Hi, are you open?"
He hadn't seen a sign outside, but it's still daylight, though it's fading fast. Maybe he's wandered in too early.
Bucky glances up as the bell over the door jingles, moving to put his book down as the man steps inside. He's slightly sillhouetted against the setting sun shining through the window behind him and there's a moment before he speaks that Bucky just appreciates the view. Artistically, of course.
His returning smile is slightly less dazzling than the blond's but he's trying, even as a tattoo artist he can't be surly with customers and it doesn't hurt that there's something about that smile that makes him want to return it. Something about the man feels familiar but he can't put his finger on it. He's desperately running through his old teammates or the guys on the football team, trying to figure out if it's one of them - he's about the right age and he wouldn't be surprised if some of them still lived round here. With any luck he'll remember before the guy recognises him, anyway.
"Yea, welcome," He says easily "what can I help you with?"
He really hopes whatever he might be looking for is something interesting. There'll come a point when he can refuse to do the kind of boring, standard art that he can practically do in his sleep and focus only on custom pieces in styles he likes, but that point is not only a month into his shop being open. He has a little bit of a name for himself in tattoo circles, but not quite enough to be the kind of artist people travel to come see. Yet.
There's a sliver of recognition when he looks up and meets Steve's eyes. He knows that face too well not to be certain. in fact, he drew it for nearly a year before he'd made himself stop, but when he speaks there's absolutely no room for doubt.
Steve's eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he steps closer to the counter, his heart suddenly in his throat. It can't be, but it is. "Bucky?" He's thought about this too many times to count. Thought about riding a bus to Missouri and looking up his old friend, but he'd always talked himself out of it. Could they even be considered friends if they hadn't spoken in nearly a decade?
He swallows, huffing out his shock. "Bucky Barnes?"
Shit, they've recognised him too quick and he still hasn't placed -
Wait.
As the muscular blond steps closer, the light from the window makes seeing his features less of a problem, and there's something there in his voice as well - deeper, more mature, but unmistakable. He heard it often enough to have it committed to memory even after all this time.
Now that he's closer and Bucky's actually looking for it, he can see those familiar features in the face in front of him, even if they are a lot higher up than they used to be. And those eyes, blue as ever, staring at him in shock...
But some part of his brain still can't quite compute the scrawny little punk who'd been the best friend he's ever had and this... adonis standing before him, so there's a long pause after Steve speaks where Bucky just stares at him.
Then he realises he's been doing it and for a moment he feels like an idiot until he gets a sudden brainwave. He knows how to distract from his stare, or at least make it look intentional. It's really mean but the moment he thinks of it he just can't resist. His brow furrows in apparent confusion.
Steve's expression plummets as he stops just short of the counter. Whatever hope that had been building inside of him at the sight of a familiar, though older, face, dies at the blank look the man in front of him is giving him. But even still, he can't shake the fact that he knows that face. Did Bucky have a look a like cousin he hadn't known about all these years?
"Sorry," he says, ducking his head slightly and reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "You look just like someone I used to..." he trails off feeling the tips of his ears warming with embarassment, even as his mind yells at him that he's not wrong. He takes a breath. "No... I know you."
There's a stubborn kind of determination in his voice as he doubles down at staring back at Bucky and crosses his arms. "Bucky Barnes. Coldwater Apartment, number 109. You lived there with your mom and dad and sisters, right?"
Bucky immediately feels terrible for his little joke when he sees Steve's face fall like that. He should have just accepted looking a bit stupid for staring and said hello like a normal person, but apparently he'd forgotten how to be one of those. He's about to come clean and admit it was just a dumb joke when Steve gets all stubborn and reels off his old address and suddenly Bucky's guilt is overwhelmed by a rush of fondness.
Whatever physical changes he might have gone through, that right there was pure Steve Rogers. Apparently no amount of muscle was going to get rid of that fierce determination. Bucky can't help it, he starts laughing.
"Man, you really do just go looking for fights don't you?" He chuckles. It feels weird, he honestly can't actually remember the last time he laughed, but it spills out of him without him being able to stop it.
Despite himself, Steve finds himself cracking a smile. He knew he was right. The fact that Bucky's giving him a hard time about it only goes to prove it further. "You're the one fighting. I'm just trying to say hello."
He grins and steps forward, holding out his hand. "It's good to see you again, Buck. How long has it been?" As if he doesn't know exactly how long since the letters stopped and Bucky Barnes moved on with his life.
It's only now, that he spots the way Bucky's shirt falls at his shoulder, too loose and too straight and making no move to extend a hand out to him. Understanding crosses Steve's face and it softens, his eyes searching out Bucky's. Steve lowers his hand, his expression somber. "Sorry."
Bucky snorts, hardly surpised that Steve has got a comeback ready, he was always quick to retort. It feels bittersweet, somehow, to remember the easy banter they used to have, because for all there was a spark of it between them there, he knows there's soo much time, too much distance between them now. Steve was the one who knew everything about him, now... well, ha, now he doesn't even know that Bucky's missing a limb.
He shrugs, letting an easy smile cover his thoughts as he gives Steve the well practiced shake of his head.
"Don't worry about it. Farm accident, happened years ago," he explains, since he knows Steve will be thinking the question even if he's too polite to actually ask it.
"It's good to see you too," he adds, trying to steer the conversation back to the slightly less awkward topics "It's been a minute for sure."
Not like he doesn't know exactly how many minutes either.
He knows he doesn't exactly have a poker face, still he hates that Bucky has to put him at ease, when Bucky's the one missing an arm. Steve thinks about how his eyes had always been drawn to his arms when Bucky stripped down to his undershirt on hot summer days. There's a pang of mournful loss in his stomach at the fact that Bucky will never be whole and beautiful again. Not that he isn't still beautiful.
He swallows, trying to push those thoughts away. "Is that why you stopped writing?"
The words fall out of his mouth before he can stop them and he immediately regrets them. Of course it was. Steve had always thought he'd just found better things to do, he'd never thought Bucky might be out there in the world suffering. Besides, they'd been sixteen. He had no right to ask Bucky to keep writing him forever. Especially not in the wake of such a big loss.
He wants to say yes because it makes sense, it's easier than admitting the truth to pretend it was all about the rehab and the trauma and the recovery time, but he'd already stopped by then.
He just didn't know how to explain the real reason he stopped was because it hurt too much to be reminded of everything he'd left behind. He's hesitated too long now to claim it was because of his arm, so instead he just looks apologetic and shakes his head.
"No, that... uh, that would've been around the time my grandpa died. Between school and farm work and this part time job I had I was constantly busy, and I kept meaning to find time to write back I just..." he shrugs awkwardly "I was a dumb kid, you know? I guess you really weren't kidding when you told me I was taking all the stupid with me."
Is it weird to remember exactly what your best friend last said to you in person when you were both sixteen? He has no idea but he's said it loud now so he's just going to have to live with it.
"Don't worry about it," Steve says, shaking his head. He'd never held it against Bucky and he wasn't about to start now. Bucky had been the only person who had ever seen him as anything important before the serum, losing touch hadn't been that much of a surprise. Besides, it wasn't as if he couldn't have written more or picked up a phone. He just hadn't wanted Bucky to think he was holding on to something that had already faded between them. Or worse, that he was some charity case.
"We were both dumb kids," he says, giving Bucky a small smile at the memory of their last words to one another. It felt like it had just been yesterday that he'd given him a hug and said goodbye. It still stings in a faded but bittersweet way. Bucky had been the best friend he'd ever had.
"I should've reached out. I'm sorry about your grandpa." He wonders if that's strange to say when he'd lost him so long ago. He wonders if he's being weird, trying to pick up a friendship that's been on pause for a decade or longer. "When did you move back?"
"Thanks" Bucky just says quietly. It is a little strange to get a condolence so long after the fact, but he does still kind of miss his grandfather and it's weirdly nice, too, for it to be acknowledged. Even though he knows Steve is just being polite.
"Little over a month?" He admits "I've been getting the shop open and things so I hadn't got round to looking anybody up yet."
Which isn't strictly true, he just hadn't really known how it would go so he's been putting it off. Probably better this way, leaving him without a choice, because he knows he wants Steve back in his life, no matter all the things holding him back.
"You? I mean, did you move away or anything?" And then, because he just can't not mention it, he waves his hand at Steve's general... everything "I guess you were a late bloomer, huh?"
"The neighborhood has changed so much, I'd be surprised of anyone was still here," he admits giving him a sympathetic smile. "Fury moved in the late 2000s and he was one of the last hold outs." He really needs to give the old man a call and see how he's doing. "I'm actually surprised shop rent is even affordable around here now. That's part of why I had to stop."
The tattoo shop definitely stands out against the trendy bakeries and fancy Whole Foods around the corner. There's a retro vibe to it that he's pretty sure is intentional now. It makes him like it even more than he did on first sight.
Steve shifts on his feet, looking a little uncomfortable now that his physical appearance has been called out. "Oh, yeah, that's... a long story." He pauses, though he doesn't have any real intention of not telling him. "Late bloomer is a good way of saying it."
He drifts towards the wall, studying some photos. "I just moved back. When I graduated I went into the army and they needed a volunteer for a special project..." He clears his throat and looks back at Bucky. "Well, I was a stupid kid. I didn't ask any questions. And now I look like this."
It's disappointing, Bucky thinks, that things have changed as much as they have, that for all his attempts, for all he'd made it back here, he never would return to the Brooklyn he left.
Except... Steve was here, and some tiny part of him knew that he didn't really mind so much about anyone else...
"Yea, I gotta admit it was a little more than I was hoping to pay, but I figured it was worth it, this is where I wanted it to be..." He shrugs. There were other parts of the city with better rents, but they weren't Brooklyn.
He didn't mean to make Steve uncomfortable, so he almost apologises when he gets all awkward about it, but despite his pauses he does actually seem willing to explain it, so Bucky waits him out.
It's really not what he expected.
"...huh." He said after a long moment. It makes sense that this is the result of weird military... whatever, since he would have never in a million years guessed Steve was capable of bulking up like this when they were younger.
Steve laughs, turning towards Bucky and feeling some of his unease melt away. "You have no idea. Like I said, it's a long story." Technically, he's not really supposed to talk about it. He knows his lawyer would definitely tell him not to talk about it, but it's Bucky and the idea of being able to tell him almost anything like he did when they were teens is too appealing. He's been on his own too long.
"I'd probably tell you all of it and then some if you got some beers in me," he says, giving him a small smile. "We've got a lot of catching up to do. Beer always made us talk faster."
Bucky chuckles, the awkwardness dissipating at the easy sound of Steve's laughter, and the suggestion has him returning Steve's smile without even really thinking about it.
"Well I haven't had a chance to check out how the bars have changed since I moved back, so a few beers and catching up sounds great." he replies with a nod "I got nothing on this evening if you're free? Or whenever..."
He doesn't have anything on outside of work any days, but he mostly only adds the 'whatever' so he doesn't sound too eager by immediately suggesting today.
Steve can't help but smile in turn, already feelings long tucked away unfurling themselves in his chest. He tries to tamp them down as he nods eagerly. "This evening would be great. I can meet you here or at the bar, whichever is easiest."
He can feel his face warm a little with just how eager he sounds, but he's never been good at playing it cool. His want to catch up with Bucky and get to know him again far outweighs any embarassment he might be feeling.
The truth is, he doesn't have any family left and only a handful of friends from the last few years. Running into Bucky is the closest thing to home he's had in a long time.
Is he seeing things or is that a little hint of redness on Steve's face? He must be imagining it, surely, because what does Steve have to blush about? He's not coming across over-eager to Bucky, but that might just be because Bucky's too focused on playing it cool himself to notice that they're just as bad as each other.
"Here would be good," He decides after a moment and then pauses, toying with the idea of just suggesting he close up early and they go now, it's not like he has any bookings and there's been no walk-ins since Steve...
Which is when he realises that Steve did, in fact, walk in, and it was only after he'd asked if they were open that he recognised Bucky.
"Wait, why'd you come in here in the first place? You thinking about a tattoo?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.
Steve laughs, smiling widely at the fact that any thoughts of a tattoo had
been wiped out completely by the sight of his old friend. He took a deep
breath and nodded towards the art on the window. "Yeah, I liked your
drawings. I was thinking about getting one, but I wanted to check the
place out first." He's not even sure if it will stick, considering the
experiment, but now it seems like it's worth a try. "Do you think you
could draw a shield with a star in the middle of it?" He reaches up and
brushes his right shoulder. "Maybe about right here?"
Bucky can't help but smile, helpless in the face of Steve's own smile, in the rush of pleasure he feels that Steve likes his art.
He nods at Steve's question, beckoning him a little closer so he can reach up and run his fingers over the spot Steve indicated, expression thoughtful for a moment like he's working out what it would look like. He is doing that, but also... well, it's not strictly required that he has to touch in order to figure that out, he just really wants to. Like he needs to be sure Steve is really there.
Fuck he really is all muscle now, isn't he? Not that it makes much difference - Bucky had already been nursing a hell of a crush on his best friend when he left, and he can feel that nostalgic longing unfurling in his chest now every time Steve smiles, every time Bucky looks into those big blue eyes. The things that make him beautiful have always been there.
"Yea I could do something with that. Want me to draw up some sketches?" He asks, dragging his mind out of his own thoughts and dropping his hand from Steve's shoulder.
Steve is helpless to resist the gesture, moving closer and holding his breath as Bucky runs his fingers over his arm. It's silly, the thrill that it sends down his spine, and yet it's impossible to ignore. He feels like he's just been touched by a live wire and imagines he can still feel his skin buzzing with Bucky's touch as he drops his hand away.
"If you have time," Steve says easily. Now that he knows Bucky is here, he's glad to have an excuse to return, even if he knows their history is enough. He's relieved that Bucky seems interested in reforming their friendship. "I want to keep it simple, though. Nothing too crazy."
He doesn't really know the first thing about getting a tattoo. It was a whim that he's glad he followed. A record of his time in the army that he wants just for himself.
"I can do simple." Bucky nods, a faintly amused smile on his face. Steve wouldn't look right with something too complex or over the top anyway, he's a man built for clean lines and bold colours. Not that Bucky usually puts that much thought into his designs, but he knows Steve so well - or he did, once - that he can't help but take that into account as the ideas already start forming.
He flips open his work diary and notes down the request (as if he'd forget) and then grins up at Steve.
"I'll need your number, so I can let you know when I'm done."
"Oh yeah, of course." Steve huffs and gives him his phone number, not thinking for one second that Bucky might want it for anything other than the tattoo. Still, it's hard to steer completely away from the wishful thinking that he might be asking for another reason. It's not as if Steve has never been hit on before, especially after the serum, he's just completely discounting it when it comes to his old friend.
It's all too easy to remember that easy grin asking for a girl's number like it was nothing. Like the idea of being rejected wasn't even one that fit into the universe. Steve had always wondered what that must have felt like. "Do you mind... can I get yours?"
It's not that Bucky isn't thinking about flirting with Steve, but mostly he's trying to hold himself back, unsure if it's a good idea or not when they've only just reconnected, when he finally has the blond back in his life. It isn't just for the tattoo that he asked, but he wasn't trying to mean it that way.
Unless Steve wanted him to, obviously.
He laughs easily at the hesitance in Steve's question and nods.
"Of course," he replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world, grabbing a business card from the desk and writing his personal number on the back of it before holding it out to Steve.
Steve takes it and slips it into his pocket, a wide smile crossing his face. He feels like he's just won something, though he isn't sure what. "Okay, well, let me get out of your hair for a few hours and I'll be back at closing for that drink."
It's not a date. He knows that, but he still feels something like butterflies or maybe live wires fluttering around his stomach. He backs up towards the door awkwardly, not willing to look away, until the handle jabs him in the back. "See you then."
Bucky smiles back, unable to help himself. He's not sure he's smiled this much in years, he didn't even think he could smile like this anymore, but Steve walks back into his life for all of ten minutes and suddenly he feels like his old self again.
He's not sure how long the effect will last, not with everything he's been through, but he doesn't want to give up on it just yet.
He watches Steve walk backwards, stifling a laugh when he almost walks into the door, and nods.
"Yea, see you then." he agrees.
Not that he waits until closing time - Steve's barely out of sight before he's starting to close up shop so he can go upstairs to his apartment and freak out about this in private.
It takes him a while to strike a balance between 'I just threw this on after work' and 'I happen to know my ass looks great in these jeans' but by the time Steve gets back Bucky's outside, leaning against the shop window waiting for him.
Steve has to talk himself out of showing up thirty minutes early and offering to help Bucky close up. It's too eager, too pathetic, and instead he takes his nerves out on a punching bag in his apartment gym. Even after giving himself time to shower and change, he still somehow manages to show up fifteen minutes early.
"Hey," he says as he spots Bucky leaning against the building. "Long time no see."
Bucky snorts, shaking his head despairingly at Steve's terrible joke.
"Yea, it's been a while." He agrees, deadpan, shoving himself upright and waiting for Steve to reach him. Part of him wants to go in for a hug, but he's not sure if they're there again, if it'll just be awkward and weird, so instead he just smiles and tips his head in the direction he assumes they're heading.
Steve nods, grinning at Bucky and falls into step beside him. It's strange, how easy it is to pick up with him again, like the last decade hadn't happened at all. It warms his chest from the inside, leaving a warm feeling spreading down to his stomach.
It's a short walk to the bar, which isn't much more than a neighborhood hole in the wall, but the two of them only get a few curious glances before they settle into a booth in the back with their drinks. Steve has never been too much of a fan of drinking, so he's content with sipping a beer and peeling off the label out of habit. He thinks he should've spent the afternoon thinking of questions to ask instead of overthinking what he should wear to a meeting between two old friends. "So, your sister still around, or...?"
There's the tiniest hesitation before Bucky shakes his head, taking a sip of his beer before he answers.
"Nah, the whole family's pretty settled back in Missouri, so it's just me..." He says with a shrug, mentally kicking himself for the pause. Steve asking after his sister doesn't mean anything, and even if it did what did that matter? He should just be glad to have his friend back, right?
"Apprenticed at a place in St. Louis for a few years 'til I had the money to move back here." He adds, glossing over the time before Steve asked about it and then immediately turning the conversation back on him "You been back long? Staying with your mom?"
Steve takes a slow sip, his gaze drifting across the booth, searching for the right way to break the news. He remembers how much his mother had liked Bucky and was grateful for him looking out for Steve when she couldn't. He rubs his thumb along the bottle label, gaze distant, chest tightening with the memory. "She passed a few years after you left. Cancer."
It still hurts to say it out loud. It takes him back to the hospital room filled with quiet, labored breaths and a heart monitor that had slowed, stopped, and brought his world crashing down. "She would've been glad to know you were back in the neighborhood. She always said she felt better knowing you were around.”"
"oh... shit..." Bucky winces as soon as the words are out of Steve's mouth. He can hear the pain behind them, the careful way Steve speaks, and the stab of guilt they trigger is.. unpleasant to say the least. It's not just that he put his foot in it here and now, though, it's... Steve's mother was his only family and Bucky hadn't been there. Hadn't even been in touch with him. His best friend in the world had lost everything and Bucky had missed it.
"I'm sorry, Steve... she was... she was really great. I wish I'd known." He takes a sip of his beer, swallows heavily, hesitates for a moment before huffing an awkward laugh.
"So we've covered lost limbs, weird experiments and relatives who've passed on, any other traumatic life events we can stumble into?" He jokes weakly.
[ Steve huffs out a breath that’s half a laugh, half a sigh. The corners of his mouth twitch up despite the weight in his chest. ] God, I missed you. [ His voice is soft, almost disbelieving. Like he hadn’t realized just how much until right now.
He swirls his beer, watching the bubbles rise before looking up at Bucky again.]
I forgot how you do that. Say the worst thing out loud and somehow make it easier to carry.
[ It’s not a complaint. It’s more like... relief. Like after all the years of silence and pain and growing into men alone, here they are—still speaking the same language, even if it’s through grief. He knows he's getting a little too morose though, and tries to pull back.] I think that should cover it, unless you've got a wife and kids stashed somewhere you haven't mentioned yet?
It feels good to him, too, the sudden release of tension when his joke is met with that half-laugh and the admission, the feeling of something clicking back into place - not entirely, not when there's still so much time and distance between them, but it's like every word they speak, every look and expression and gesture, it brings them closer again, bit by bit.
It's like the bridge between them needs repairing, but it's still standing even now.
He snorts at the question, shaking his head.
"Not a chance." He scoffs, the accompanying confession on the tip of his tongue before he chickens out and instead returns "How about you? No wife or girlfriend sitting at home waiting to grill you about where you've been?"
[ Steve huffs and shakes his head, focusing back on peeling the label off his bottle. ] No. No wife or girlfriend, unfortunately. [ He looks up at Bucky, his eyes shining. ] Have you looked at dating apps lately? A nightmare.
I'd rather die alone than have to describe myself in ten words or less.
Bucky snorts another laugh, looking down at Steve's hands on the bottle for a moment and then smirks a little.
"Oh come on, it's pretty easy..." he starts, counting on his fingers as he goes "Stubborn, no sense of self preservation... but loyal as hell. There you go, ten words."
He drops his hands with a chuckle and reaches to take another sip of his own beer.
"I know what you mean, though, I don't bother with dating apps either."
Well, okay, he has used grindr occasionally, but that's not exactly a dating app.
Steve snorts. "Actually, that sums it up pretty well. Mind if I use that?"
He can't help but think that Bucky has it harder. Not when it comes to charm, but losing an arm is something that isn't easy to break the ice about. Still, he's just as handsome and capable as he ever was.
"So what? You don't date? Or you meet people other ways?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Tattoo AU
Date: 2025-03-18 01:19 am (UTC)Leaving a bustling, trendy city for a tiny backwoods town in the middle of Missouri was bad enough, but he had to leave the school where he was popular and cool and on the baseball team and become the weird new kid among a bunch of students who'd all known each other since they were five. At a school that didn't have a baseball team.
Worst of all was leaving his best friend behind. He'd met Steve Rogers on the first day of High School when he stepped in to help this skinny little blond who was getting pummelled by a kid twice his size, only to discover, once he'd chased off the attacker and hauled the blond off the floor, that he'd jumped in to defend a girl the bully was picking on. They'd been fast friends ever since, if only because Steve clearly had a death wish and somebody had to look out for him.
God only knew what he'd get up to without Bucky around.
He couldn't even be mad about it because he knew that the only reason they were moving was because his grandfather was sick and there was this whole thing about the family farm and his legacy and if Bucky and his family didn't move back to help out it would break the old man's heart. Bucky actually liked his grandfather, he just didn't like the stupid town where his stupid farm was.
Over the years he became more withdrawn, helped his grandfather fix the farm equipment and got a weekend job at the garage in the town, spending more time with grumpy old men than he did with anybody his own age. He got into motorbikes, got an old one cheap from his boss at the garage and fixed it up himself.
After his grandfather died he split his time between the garage and the farm - when he had to. He'd much rather pick up a skill that wouldn't keep him tied to one location. Or, rather, that wouldn't keep him tied to this location.
When he was 20 his boss arranged for him to do an apprenticeship in St. Louis, working at a motorcycle garage there.
The summer before he left there was an accident with one of the machines and Bucky came out of it with one less arm and one less job opportunity - the apprenticeship couldn't wait for all the recovery and rehab he'd have to do, and who'd ever heard of a one-armed mechanic?
He moved to St Louis anyway, he didn't want to stay on the farm and nobody really blamed him. He became even more withdrawn and bitter than he'd been before. When he did make friends, it was with a group of bikers who were not exactly the best influence on him. The less said about his record during that time, the better.
One good thing came out of it, though. Bucky had started drawing when he left New York; it was a hobby he could do by himself, wherever he was, and it always made him think of home - Steve had always been doodling something or other, he had real talent. So did Bucky (after years of practice) and so when one of the bikers saw him sketching a design on a bar napkin, he was quick to sugggest Bucky talk to a buddy of his who was looking for an apprentice tattoo artist.
That, it turns out, was something he could do with one arm, and he was pretty damn good at it actually. Good enough for an actual career, good enough to reach the point where a shop of his own was a viable option.
Since by that point he needed to get out of St. Louis before he got himself in real trouble, he knew exactly where he wanted to go.
White Wolf Tattoos has been open for a month now, just round the corner from his old neighbourhood, and business is really starting to pick up.
He hasn't got around to looking anybody up yet, he tells himself it's because he's been busy getting the shop set up, but really he knows it's because he doesn't know if they'll even remember him, or how different he'll be to what they expect, or how ready he is to explain to yet another person exactly what happened to his arm when he can't just brush it off with 'accident' the way he can with a curious stranger.
For now, he's happy enough being back in Brooklyn, away from all the places that hold bad memories and doing a job he loves. The shop is quiet today, he doesn't have any clients pre-booked so he's just sitting behind the counter reading a battered old copy of Lord of the Rings waiting to see if he gets any walk-ins.
no subject
Date: 2025-03-18 06:14 pm (UTC)He knew he was never going to be the perfect soldier, he'd been dealt a lousy hand when it came to his body, but his mind had always been sharp and he'd developed a knack for persevering, even when his best and only friend had moved away, even when his mom had died, even when the world told him at every chance it got that he was worthless and a waste of space. The army gave him the tools and the opportunity to prove himself. He'd volunteered to go on the most dangerous assignments and when he'd been tapped to participate in project rebirth, he'd jumped at the chance. Doctor Erskine had taken an immediate liking to him and allowed him to participate in the medical trials of his new drug. He'd fallen in love with a girl as stubborn as himself and they'd danced around each other as they'd worked on the project until Doctor Erskine's untimely passing. Then she'd been shipped off to an elite squad doing god knew what, god knew where, and Steve had been left with a handful of regrets and being the only living proof that Erskine's formula had worked in healing and improving human DNA.
Project Rebirth had quickly gone downhill after Erskine, the doctor that followed him pushing Steve to his physical limits as he tried to recreate the formula. Steve should've known there was something wrong when he'd started getting the migraines that made it hard for him to see straight, but he hadn't wanted to believe that he might be losing this new lease on life.
He'd spent the last six months embroiled in court martial hearings behind closed doors, testifying about his experiences and the side effects. After everything, they'd given him an honorable discharge and a bus ticket home and here he was. Right where he'd started. His benefits gave him enough to scrape by on, but he found himself completely lost when it came to trying to find work. He'd been trained to be a soldier and with no war to fight and a country that wanted to forget about him, he'd found himself wandering the old neighborhood more days than not.
He stops to glance at his reflection in a display window, staring at the stranger looking back at him. Sometimes he doesn't even recognize the scrawny kid he used to be in that face or the broad shoulders. He supposes he should be grateful that the never fading feeling of not being enough is something that keeps pushing him forward, even in his darkest times. His eyes focus on the artwork taped up against the window and he studies it for a moment, noting the clean lines and clever shading. It's a tattoo shop where there used to be a bodega that sold expired soup cans. In a moment of pure impulse Steve decides to step inside. His body might be something he's never had complete control over, but the idea of making a part of it wholly his own is something he can't push away.
He smiles at the guy behind the counter reading a worn copy of Lord of the Rings. It's not exactly the kind of proprietor he'd expected, but it's a welcome surprise. The shop is quiet, a light humming noisily overhead. "Hi, are you open?"
He hadn't seen a sign outside, but it's still daylight, though it's fading fast. Maybe he's wandered in too early.
no subject
Date: 2025-03-18 06:36 pm (UTC)Bucky glances up as the bell over the door jingles, moving to put his book down as the man steps inside. He's slightly sillhouetted against the setting sun shining through the window behind him and there's a moment before he speaks that Bucky just appreciates the view. Artistically, of course.
His returning smile is slightly less dazzling than the blond's but he's trying, even as a tattoo artist he can't be surly with customers and it doesn't hurt that there's something about that smile that makes him want to return it. Something about the man feels familiar but he can't put his finger on it. He's desperately running through his old teammates or the guys on the football team, trying to figure out if it's one of them - he's about the right age and he wouldn't be surprised if some of them still lived round here. With any luck he'll remember before the guy recognises him, anyway.
"Yea, welcome," He says easily "what can I help you with?"
He really hopes whatever he might be looking for is something interesting. There'll come a point when he can refuse to do the kind of boring, standard art that he can practically do in his sleep and focus only on custom pieces in styles he likes, but that point is not only a month into his shop being open. He has a little bit of a name for himself in tattoo circles, but not quite enough to be the kind of artist people travel to come see. Yet.
no subject
Date: 2025-03-18 10:44 pm (UTC)Steve's eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he steps closer to the counter, his heart suddenly in his throat. It can't be, but it is. "Bucky?" He's thought about this too many times to count. Thought about riding a bus to Missouri and looking up his old friend, but he'd always talked himself out of it. Could they even be considered friends if they hadn't spoken in nearly a decade?
He swallows, huffing out his shock. "Bucky Barnes?"
no subject
Date: 2025-03-18 11:12 pm (UTC)Shit, they've recognised him too quick and he still hasn't placed -
Wait.
As the muscular blond steps closer, the light from the window makes seeing his features less of a problem, and there's something there in his voice as well - deeper, more mature, but unmistakable. He heard it often enough to have it committed to memory even after all this time.
Now that he's closer and Bucky's actually looking for it, he can see those familiar features in the face in front of him, even if they are a lot higher up than they used to be. And those eyes, blue as ever, staring at him in shock...
But some part of his brain still can't quite compute the scrawny little punk who'd been the best friend he's ever had and this... adonis standing before him, so there's a long pause after Steve speaks where Bucky just stares at him.
Then he realises he's been doing it and for a moment he feels like an idiot until he gets a sudden brainwave. He knows how to distract from his stare, or at least make it look intentional. It's really mean but the moment he thinks of it he just can't resist. His brow furrows in apparent confusion.
"Who the hell is Bucky?"
no subject
Date: 2025-03-19 10:32 pm (UTC)"Sorry," he says, ducking his head slightly and reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "You look just like someone I used to..." he trails off feeling the tips of his ears warming with embarassment, even as his mind yells at him that he's not wrong. He takes a breath. "No... I know you."
There's a stubborn kind of determination in his voice as he doubles down at staring back at Bucky and crosses his arms. "Bucky Barnes. Coldwater Apartment, number 109. You lived there with your mom and dad and sisters, right?"
no subject
Date: 2025-03-19 10:41 pm (UTC)Bucky immediately feels terrible for his little joke when he sees Steve's face fall like that. He should have just accepted looking a bit stupid for staring and said hello like a normal person, but apparently he'd forgotten how to be one of those. He's about to come clean and admit it was just a dumb joke when Steve gets all stubborn and reels off his old address and suddenly Bucky's guilt is overwhelmed by a rush of fondness.
Whatever physical changes he might have gone through, that right there was pure Steve Rogers. Apparently no amount of muscle was going to get rid of that fierce determination. Bucky can't help it, he starts laughing.
"Man, you really do just go looking for fights don't you?" He chuckles. It feels weird, he honestly can't actually remember the last time he laughed, but it spills out of him without him being able to stop it.
no subject
Date: 2025-03-30 06:46 pm (UTC)He grins and steps forward, holding out his hand. "It's good to see you again, Buck. How long has it been?" As if he doesn't know exactly how long since the letters stopped and Bucky Barnes moved on with his life.
It's only now, that he spots the way Bucky's shirt falls at his shoulder, too loose and too straight and making no move to extend a hand out to him. Understanding crosses Steve's face and it softens, his eyes searching out Bucky's. Steve lowers his hand, his expression somber. "Sorry."
no subject
Date: 2025-03-30 07:34 pm (UTC)Bucky snorts, hardly surpised that Steve has got a comeback ready, he was always quick to retort. It feels bittersweet, somehow, to remember the easy banter they used to have, because for all there was a spark of it between them there, he knows there's soo much time, too much distance between them now. Steve was the one who knew everything about him, now... well, ha, now he doesn't even know that Bucky's missing a limb.
He shrugs, letting an easy smile cover his thoughts as he gives Steve the well practiced shake of his head.
"Don't worry about it. Farm accident, happened years ago," he explains, since he knows Steve will be thinking the question even if he's too polite to actually ask it.
"It's good to see you too," he adds, trying to steer the conversation back to the slightly less awkward topics "It's been a minute for sure."
Not like he doesn't know exactly how many minutes either.
no subject
Date: 2025-03-31 01:12 am (UTC)He swallows, trying to push those thoughts away. "Is that why you stopped writing?"
The words fall out of his mouth before he can stop them and he immediately regrets them. Of course it was. Steve had always thought he'd just found better things to do, he'd never thought Bucky might be out there in the world suffering. Besides, they'd been sixteen. He had no right to ask Bucky to keep writing him forever. Especially not in the wake of such a big loss.
no subject
Date: 2025-03-31 01:25 am (UTC)He wants to say yes because it makes sense, it's easier than admitting the truth to pretend it was all about the rehab and the trauma and the recovery time, but he'd already stopped by then.
He just didn't know how to explain the real reason he stopped was because it hurt too much to be reminded of everything he'd left behind. He's hesitated too long now to claim it was because of his arm, so instead he just looks apologetic and shakes his head.
"No, that... uh, that would've been around the time my grandpa died. Between school and farm work and this part time job I had I was constantly busy, and I kept meaning to find time to write back I just..." he shrugs awkwardly "I was a dumb kid, you know? I guess you really weren't kidding when you told me I was taking all the stupid with me."
Is it weird to remember exactly what your best friend last said to you in person when you were both sixteen? He has no idea but he's said it loud now so he's just going to have to live with it.
no subject
Date: 2025-04-02 12:01 am (UTC)"We were both dumb kids," he says, giving Bucky a small smile at the memory of their last words to one another. It felt like it had just been yesterday that he'd given him a hug and said goodbye. It still stings in a faded but bittersweet way. Bucky had been the best friend he'd ever had.
"I should've reached out. I'm sorry about your grandpa." He wonders if that's strange to say when he'd lost him so long ago. He wonders if he's being weird, trying to pick up a friendship that's been on pause for a decade or longer. "When did you move back?"
no subject
Date: 2025-04-02 12:27 am (UTC)"Thanks" Bucky just says quietly. It is a little strange to get a condolence so long after the fact, but he does still kind of miss his grandfather and it's weirdly nice, too, for it to be acknowledged. Even though he knows Steve is just being polite.
"Little over a month?" He admits "I've been getting the shop open and things so I hadn't got round to looking anybody up yet."
Which isn't strictly true, he just hadn't really known how it would go so he's been putting it off. Probably better this way, leaving him without a choice, because he knows he wants Steve back in his life, no matter all the things holding him back.
"You? I mean, did you move away or anything?" And then, because he just can't not mention it, he waves his hand at Steve's general... everything "I guess you were a late bloomer, huh?"
no subject
Date: 2025-04-03 10:58 pm (UTC)The tattoo shop definitely stands out against the trendy bakeries and fancy Whole Foods around the corner. There's a retro vibe to it that he's pretty sure is intentional now. It makes him like it even more than he did on first sight.
Steve shifts on his feet, looking a little uncomfortable now that his physical appearance has been called out. "Oh, yeah, that's... a long story." He pauses, though he doesn't have any real intention of not telling him. "Late bloomer is a good way of saying it."
He drifts towards the wall, studying some photos. "I just moved back. When I graduated I went into the army and they needed a volunteer for a special project..." He clears his throat and looks back at Bucky. "Well, I was a stupid kid. I didn't ask any questions. And now I look like this."
no subject
Date: 2025-04-04 12:57 am (UTC)It's disappointing, Bucky thinks, that things have changed as much as they have, that for all his attempts, for all he'd made it back here, he never would return to the Brooklyn he left.
Except... Steve was here, and some tiny part of him knew that he didn't really mind so much about anyone else...
"Yea, I gotta admit it was a little more than I was hoping to pay, but I figured it was worth it, this is where I wanted it to be..." He shrugs. There were other parts of the city with better rents, but they weren't Brooklyn.
He didn't mean to make Steve uncomfortable, so he almost apologises when he gets all awkward about it, but despite his pauses he does actually seem willing to explain it, so Bucky waits him out.
It's really not what he expected.
"...huh." He said after a long moment. It makes sense that this is the result of weird military... whatever, since he would have never in a million years guessed Steve was capable of bulking up like this when they were younger.
"That must've been... interesting..."
no subject
Date: 2025-05-03 02:23 pm (UTC)"I'd probably tell you all of it and then some if you got some beers in me," he says, giving him a small smile. "We've got a lot of catching up to do. Beer always made us talk faster."
no subject
Date: 2025-05-08 08:54 pm (UTC)Bucky chuckles, the awkwardness dissipating at the easy sound of Steve's laughter, and the suggestion has him returning Steve's smile without even really thinking about it.
"Well I haven't had a chance to check out how the bars have changed since I moved back, so a few beers and catching up sounds great." he replies with a nod "I got nothing on this evening if you're free? Or whenever..."
He doesn't have anything on outside of work any days, but he mostly only adds the 'whatever' so he doesn't sound too eager by immediately suggesting today.
no subject
Date: 2025-05-24 07:42 pm (UTC)He can feel his face warm a little with just how eager he sounds, but he's never been good at playing it cool. His want to catch up with Bucky and get to know him again far outweighs any embarassment he might be feeling.
The truth is, he doesn't have any family left and only a handful of friends from the last few years. Running into Bucky is the closest thing to home he's had in a long time.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-02 10:11 pm (UTC)Is he seeing things or is that a little hint of redness on Steve's face? He must be imagining it, surely, because what does Steve have to blush about? He's not coming across over-eager to Bucky, but that might just be because Bucky's too focused on playing it cool himself to notice that they're just as bad as each other.
"Here would be good," He decides after a moment and then pauses, toying with the idea of just suggesting he close up early and they go now, it's not like he has any bookings and there's been no walk-ins since Steve...
Which is when he realises that Steve did, in fact, walk in, and it was only after he'd asked if they were open that he recognised Bucky.
"Wait, why'd you come in here in the first place? You thinking about a tattoo?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-04 03:11 pm (UTC)Steve laughs, smiling widely at the fact that any thoughts of a tattoo had been wiped out completely by the sight of his old friend. He took a deep breath and nodded towards the art on the window. "Yeah, I liked your drawings. I was thinking about getting one, but I wanted to check the place out first." He's not even sure if it will stick, considering the experiment, but now it seems like it's worth a try. "Do you think you could draw a shield with a star in the middle of it?" He reaches up and brushes his right shoulder. "Maybe about right here?"
no subject
Date: 2025-06-04 09:11 pm (UTC)Bucky can't help but smile, helpless in the face of Steve's own smile, in the rush of pleasure he feels that Steve likes his art.
He nods at Steve's question, beckoning him a little closer so he can reach up and run his fingers over the spot Steve indicated, expression thoughtful for a moment like he's working out what it would look like. He is doing that, but also... well, it's not strictly required that he has to touch in order to figure that out, he just really wants to. Like he needs to be sure Steve is really there.
Fuck he really is all muscle now, isn't he? Not that it makes much difference - Bucky had already been nursing a hell of a crush on his best friend when he left, and he can feel that nostalgic longing unfurling in his chest now every time Steve smiles, every time Bucky looks into those big blue eyes. The things that make him beautiful have always been there.
"Yea I could do something with that. Want me to draw up some sketches?" He asks, dragging his mind out of his own thoughts and dropping his hand from Steve's shoulder.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-05 12:28 am (UTC)"If you have time," Steve says easily. Now that he knows Bucky is here, he's glad to have an excuse to return, even if he knows their history is enough. He's relieved that Bucky seems interested in reforming their friendship. "I want to keep it simple, though. Nothing too crazy."
He doesn't really know the first thing about getting a tattoo. It was a whim that he's glad he followed. A record of his time in the army that he wants just for himself.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-05 12:49 am (UTC)"I can do simple." Bucky nods, a faintly amused smile on his face. Steve wouldn't look right with something too complex or over the top anyway, he's a man built for clean lines and bold colours. Not that Bucky usually puts that much thought into his designs, but he knows Steve so well - or he did, once - that he can't help but take that into account as the ideas already start forming.
He flips open his work diary and notes down the request (as if he'd forget) and then grins up at Steve.
"I'll need your number, so I can let you know when I'm done."
no subject
Date: 2025-06-05 02:13 pm (UTC)It's all too easy to remember that easy grin asking for a girl's number like it was nothing. Like the idea of being rejected wasn't even one that fit into the universe. Steve had always wondered what that must have felt like. "Do you mind... can I get yours?"
no subject
Date: 2025-06-05 02:52 pm (UTC)Unless Steve wanted him to, obviously.
He laughs easily at the hesitance in Steve's question and nods.
"Of course," he replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world, grabbing a business card from the desk and writing his personal number on the back of it before holding it out to Steve.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-28 10:30 pm (UTC)It's not a date. He knows that, but he still feels something like butterflies or maybe live wires fluttering around his stomach. He backs up towards the door awkwardly, not willing to look away, until the handle jabs him in the back. "See you then."
no subject
Date: 2025-07-02 11:55 pm (UTC)Bucky smiles back, unable to help himself. He's not sure he's smiled this much in years, he didn't even think he could smile like this anymore, but Steve walks back into his life for all of ten minutes and suddenly he feels like his old self again.
He's not sure how long the effect will last, not with everything he's been through, but he doesn't want to give up on it just yet.
He watches Steve walk backwards, stifling a laugh when he almost walks into the door, and nods.
"Yea, see you then." he agrees.
Not that he waits until closing time - Steve's barely out of sight before he's starting to close up shop so he can go upstairs to his apartment and freak out about this in private.
It takes him a while to strike a balance between 'I just threw this on after work' and 'I happen to know my ass looks great in these jeans' but by the time Steve gets back Bucky's outside, leaning against the shop window waiting for him.
no subject
Date: 2025-07-03 06:45 pm (UTC)"Hey," he says as he spots Bucky leaning against the building. "Long time no see."
no subject
Date: 2025-07-05 12:06 am (UTC)Bucky snorts, shaking his head despairingly at Steve's terrible joke.
"Yea, it's been a while." He agrees, deadpan, shoving himself upright and waiting for Steve to reach him. Part of him wants to go in for a hug, but he's not sure if they're there again, if it'll just be awkward and weird, so instead he just smiles and tips his head in the direction he assumes they're heading.
"Shall we?"
no subject
Date: 2025-07-08 02:55 am (UTC)It's a short walk to the bar, which isn't much more than a neighborhood hole in the wall, but the two of them only get a few curious glances before they settle into a booth in the back with their drinks. Steve has never been too much of a fan of drinking, so he's content with sipping a beer and peeling off the label out of habit. He thinks he should've spent the afternoon thinking of questions to ask instead of overthinking what he should wear to a meeting between two old friends. "So, your sister still around, or...?"
no subject
Date: 2025-07-28 12:18 am (UTC)There's the tiniest hesitation before Bucky shakes his head, taking a sip of his beer before he answers.
"Nah, the whole family's pretty settled back in Missouri, so it's just me..." He says with a shrug, mentally kicking himself for the pause. Steve asking after his sister doesn't mean anything, and even if it did what did that matter? He should just be glad to have his friend back, right?
"Apprenticed at a place in St. Louis for a few years 'til I had the money to move back here." He adds, glossing over the time before Steve asked about it and then immediately turning the conversation back on him "You been back long? Staying with your mom?"
no subject
Date: 2025-07-29 06:28 pm (UTC)It still hurts to say it out loud. It takes him back to the hospital room filled with quiet, labored breaths and a heart monitor that had slowed, stopped, and brought his world crashing down. "She would've been glad to know you were back in the neighborhood. She always said she felt better knowing you were around.”"
no subject
Date: 2025-07-29 11:54 pm (UTC)"oh... shit..." Bucky winces as soon as the words are out of Steve's mouth. He can hear the pain behind them, the careful way Steve speaks, and the stab of guilt they trigger is.. unpleasant to say the least. It's not just that he put his foot in it here and now, though, it's... Steve's mother was his only family and Bucky hadn't been there. Hadn't even been in touch with him. His best friend in the world had lost everything and Bucky had missed it.
"I'm sorry, Steve... she was... she was really great. I wish I'd known." He takes a sip of his beer, swallows heavily, hesitates for a moment before huffing an awkward laugh.
"So we've covered lost limbs, weird experiments and relatives who've passed on, any other traumatic life events we can stumble into?" He jokes weakly.
no subject
Date: 2025-07-30 12:09 am (UTC)He swirls his beer, watching the bubbles rise before looking up at Bucky again.]
I forgot how you do that. Say the worst thing out loud and somehow make it easier to carry.
[ It’s not a complaint. It’s more like... relief. Like after all the years of silence and pain and growing into men alone, here they are—still speaking the same language, even if it’s through grief. He knows he's getting a little too morose though, and tries to pull back.] I think that should cover it, unless you've got a wife and kids stashed somewhere you haven't mentioned yet?
no subject
Date: 2025-07-30 12:24 am (UTC)It feels good to him, too, the sudden release of tension when his joke is met with that half-laugh and the admission, the feeling of something clicking back into place - not entirely, not when there's still so much time and distance between them, but it's like every word they speak, every look and expression and gesture, it brings them closer again, bit by bit.
It's like the bridge between them needs repairing, but it's still standing even now.
He snorts at the question, shaking his head.
"Not a chance." He scoffs, the accompanying confession on the tip of his tongue before he chickens out and instead returns "How about you? No wife or girlfriend sitting at home waiting to grill you about where you've been?"
No he's not just asking if Steve is single.
(Yes, he is)
no subject
Date: 2025-07-30 03:43 am (UTC)I'd rather die alone than have to describe myself in ten words or less.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-11 11:28 pm (UTC)Bucky snorts another laugh, looking down at Steve's hands on the bottle for a moment and then smirks a little.
"Oh come on, it's pretty easy..." he starts, counting on his fingers as he goes "Stubborn, no sense of self preservation... but loyal as hell. There you go, ten words."
He drops his hands with a chuckle and reaches to take another sip of his own beer.
"I know what you mean, though, I don't bother with dating apps either."
Well, okay, he has used grindr occasionally, but that's not exactly a dating app.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-14 04:24 pm (UTC)He can't help but think that Bucky has it harder. Not when it comes to charm, but losing an arm is something that isn't easy to break the ice about. Still, he's just as handsome and capable as he ever was.
"So what? You don't date? Or you meet people other ways?"