Chapter Text
Mid afternoon light spilled into the Wakandan laboratory as Steve pushed the door open. Bucky’s sleeping form greeted him, as usual. He walked over to the pod and stood there for a second, wiping some dust off his forehead. Steve knew he was sweaty, fresh off the battle, but he needed to be there. The last of the Hydra had been broken down. The words to bring Bucky’s mind back revealed. Steve had asked for privacy and the technicians had gracefully turned off the cameras and left.
The words would no effect now, of course. They would be said later. Steve had only asked for privacy as Bucky was unfreezed and woken up, so he could bring him the news himself. His Buck had always had terrible morning temper and Steve couldn’t believe any of that had changed, no matter what Hydra had done to his friend.
Bucky looked so peaceful now, still asleep. Steve couldn’t help but revel in the moment. The process should be done soon, and Bucky up and about in his usual grumpy manner, his brow furrowed, maybe asking for a cup of Joe...
Steve just followed his friend’s body for a second, feeling his heart beat stop for a second when he realized that Bucky was finally safe. Steve followed the skin on his friend’s arm, his chest, moving up and down in slow, tranquil movements under the white cotton tank top, his face slack. He looked so young, like way before, when they had lived in that bare little attic in Brooklyn, way before all of this, in another life time.
“You know, I went back there,” Steve murmured, unsure if Bucky could hear him. “Back to where we used to live. It wasn’t there anymore. They had tore it all down and built a church.”
Steve snorted a little.
“Probably for the best, right? I mean, that house was infested. Remember when we would lie awake when I had that bad asthma attacks, and we could hear rats inside the walls? And once, you told me one of those bastards, big as a cat, had run over you in the middle of the night, and you wouldn’t sleep for three days because you were afraid it would happen again?”
A woman’s voice announced the thawing process was complete and the pod opened slowly. Bucky showed no sign of waking up though. Steve thought it might help to wake up to a friendly voice, so he kept talking.
“And we always smoked those asthma cigarettes because it was all I had, remember? We sat on that ledge all night, even at winter, under that blanket my ma left me. Man, it was cold, and you were always so warm.”
He stopped, thinking he might have seen a twitch at the corner on Bucky’s lips. But his friend’s body remained as still as it had been before. Steve cocked his head to the side, watching carefully.
“Man, your hair is so long now. I used to cut it for you, remember? You thought one artistic skill automatically bred another.”
Steve smiled and put a hand on Bucky’s head, just to touch his hair, or him.
“When I’m in tough situations, I always think of the nights out on that roof, and I don’t know, the bad things doesn’t feel as bad, because those moments were perfect.”
Still nothing except for deep breathing from Bucky. Steve smiled sadly.
“I worry sometimes that you won’t come out alive from these things. The pods, or the freezer, or whatever. Call me old fashioned, but I never been too reliant on tech. That’s why it was so important for me to move quickly. But I took them down, Buck. I got the words. You won’t have to worry about them ever hijacking your mind again.”
A low humming sound escaped his friend, like he was deeply content, but he still didn’t wake up or open his eyes. Steve watched, increasingly worried. He had only been frozen once, and there were still things that felt different, weird, damaged, since he woke up, that the doctors had attributed to laying in the ice for so long. He didn’t want to think what the same doctors might find in the body of a man repeatedly thawed and frozen over and over again.
“Bucky,” he said, putting a hand on his friend’s arm, the fear of losing him suddenly overwhelming, “it’s okay, it’s me, it’s Stevie. Please wake up, please. Peggy is gone, and if you go... There will be no one left. Please.”
He put his forehead on top of Bucky’s.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Alright, I love you. You know I never would have said it back then, but I don’t care anymore.”
Steve closed his eyes for a second.
“God, my biggest nightmare is finding you somewhere, dead and cold, and me knowing I could have saved you if only I had been there a little faster. I will never let that happen, so please, just wake up.”
He kissed Bucky on the cheek, and opened his eyes as Bucky turned his head to meet his lips with his own. The kiss was in no way perfect, two pairs of chapped dry lips, but it was all Steve needed as he closed his eyes again for a second. When he spoke, he realized he was holding his breath, and slowly exhaled. Bucky was smiling a little, still sleepy.
“Five more minutes, соня, I don’t want to wake up yet...”
“You’re awake,” Steve stated, not sure if he wanted to remind him.
Bucky blinked up at him.
“Могу ли я?” he mumbled, and then “I am?”
“I think so,” Steve offered, moving away a little.
Bucky’s smile turned loop-sided.
“And still, here you are, so how can it be anything else than a dream?”
When Bucky reached for him again, Steve protested only a little. He tasted exactly like someone who had been asleep for seven months, but still, Steve couldn’t help but deepen the kiss.
“Ahem.”
Steve was brutally taken back to reality as T’Challa made his presence known to them, standing by one of the windows.
“I can see now why you were so eager to clear him of the suspicion regarding my father’s murder,” he nodded sagely.
“T’Challa,” Steve nodded, feeling a blush climb towards his hairline.
He moved away, shooting a quick glance in Bucky’s direction. He looked confused, and the normal, suspicious scowl on his face was back. He touched the stump on his left arm, and just stared at Steve. T’Challa looked at him too. Suddenly, it all became too much.
“Sorry, I... I need to wash this off,” Steve mumbled, gesturing to himself before making a swift exit. He had used T’Challa’s jungle facilities as a base for quite some time, and he quickly found his way to some new sweats and a towel. Showering, he touched his lips, trying to etch the feeling and taste of Bucky to his memory. He would apologize, of course, for taking advantage like that, of a barely conscious friend. He was sure Bucky would forgive him if he promised it would never happen again. It would never happen again.