WORD COUNT: 

1098

SUMMARY: Steve and Bucky talk about
feelings and stuff while the Avengers have a water fight.

WARNINGS: none

AUTHOR: Killer raccoon

“Won’t your fella get jealous?”
Bucky asked suddenly, whip sharp grin placed firmly on his face, looking so
familiar Steve ached. It was scary how easy it was for Bucky to look like Bucky
again, like the Winter Soldier, like the plane crash, like the 21st fucking
century didn’t happen. Steve should’ve liked it, he knew, but he didn’t.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Tony gets
jealous when strangers on the street propose. It doesn’t bother him when I spar
with Natasha or when I run with Sam. This, us, doesn’t bother him at all.”

“You’ve got a good thing going here
don’t you,” Bucky huffed, eyes closed and head tipped back against the
wall. Steve shifted grappling for any sort of comfortable position on the rock
hard couch. Tony had warned him that all the furniture in this room was
designed to make people look regal, not make them comfortable. It was the only
room in the mansion left untouched from Tony’s childhood.

“Yeah, I do” Steve looked at
Bucky from where he was sitting side ways against the arm of the couch,
“better with you here though.”

“You know I’m never going to be just
Bucky Barnes right?”

“I know you haven’t been talking to
your therapist.”

“And who’s bright fucking idea was
that? A therapist? Really? You think after decades of being the most talented
killer alive – and shut the fuck up Steve, I killed people, we both know I
killed people – you really think I’d just be fucking dandy with spilling all my
secrets to some idiot with a clipboard and orders to take me out when I get
aggressive?”

“I know you won’t ever just be Bucky
again, I know you’re Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, but you’re still my friend.
You’re still my fucking family,” Steve burst out suddenly. “Please
tell me you know that.”

It was deathly quiet in the room before
Bucky spoke again, out of the corner of his mouth, like he was too tired to
talk properly, “Nathasa’s stronger than people give her credit for. So’s
Tony.”

“People give her a lot of credit. And
you know she hates it when you call her that,” Steve said mildly, not
commenting on the remark.

Bucky grinned his shark smile again.
“No, she doesn’t. And don’t think I didn’t notice you ignoring what I said
about him.”

Steve sighed, felt the air come up from his
diaphragm, filling his lungs and his mouth. “I’m just glad you stopped
calling him Stark. Why?”

“Why what…”

“Bucky,” Steve ground out.

“They make living with blood on your
ledger look easy,” Bucky breathed out suddenly. Steve paused, stomach in
his throat when Bucky turned to him again, suddenly vicious. “You won’t
tell them this, ya hear? Last thing I need is more fucking pity.”

“Of course I won’t tell. I’m surprised
you’re even talking to me right now. But we both know they would be the last
people to pity you. They know what you’re going through.”

“You’re saying you don’t?” A
challenge.

“I’ve killed people-”

“You’ve killed Nazis,” Bucky said
with a bark of a laugh. “Nazis don’t count as people.” Steve could at
least agree with that.

“You know, I miss being the stubborn
one in this friendship.”

“I’m not talking to them. It’s a
different situation entirely.”

“I thought you said they knew what it
felt..”

“Never like this. Never like me.
Fucking Tony didn’t even know what was happening with his company, how does
that compare to this?” He turned to Steve, desperate, “I trained
Natasha, trained her to be a murderer. What does that say about me?”

“It says something about the Winter
Soldier. It says that you were brainwashed.”

“I killed his parents, did he tell you
that? Blew up their car, slit his mother’s throat while she was screaming.
Stabbed his father for good measure. And if you tell me that’s okay, if you
make excuses for me, I’ll fucking deck you.”

“I don’t need to tell you that it was
wrong. You think I don’t know you’re thinking of running away again? The guilt
eats away at you. The Winter Soldier didn’t know what guilt was because he was
fucking brainwashed. You were tortured Bucky.”

“I killed so many innocent
people.”

“You killed people. Innocent people
and we both know you can’t make up for that. There isn’t anything you could
possibly do. That’s not how it works.” Steve was so tired of this, tired
of how complicated this was, tired of morality and honor and redemption.
“You do good and you wait until there’s enough good to not make the bad
crawl under your skin like palladium,” Steve quoted. Tony was strangely
poetic at the 3 in
the morning, all ruffled hair and tight breaths. “I just want you to be
happy. Don’t we deserve that? After all the second chances we’ve been given,
don’t we at least deserve that?”

Silence again. Steve stared out the window
opposite him, Bucky’s silhouette barely blocking the view. Everything here
really was excessive, slightly more so than even by Tony’s usual standards. He
wondered idly how he could go about sketching the exact way the light snagged
on the leaves of the topiaries in the garden outside.

“I’m not going back to that
therapist.” Steve waited him out, could taste the capitulation on his
tongue. “But we could do this more often. Just. Talking.”

“Yeah?”

“How many more times do you need me to
say it?” Bucky grinned suddenly. “Age catching up to you,
Rogers?”

“Screw off Bucky,” Steve laughed,
shoving him roughly. “I’m really, really happy that you want to talk to
me,” he couldn’t resist adding.

Bucky made a face, “How does Tony
stand all this earnestness?”

Steve smirked, “You really want to
know?”

“Oh fuck no, never mind. Still can’t
believe how filthy you are now, Christ.”

“The army does a number on scrawny virgins.”

“It also does a number on beefed up
super soldiers.” Bucky shot him another look, that ‘I know you’ look that
gave Steve dizzying hope.

Steve looked out the window again, at their
teammates, their friends, running past, equipped to the teeth with various
water shooting weapons. Bucky followed his line of sight and chuckled suddenly.
“Tell me how I got roped into living with a bunch of 9 year olds.”

“Hey! I’m at least 12,” he said,
moving to get up. “How bout we go and show them how it’s really done?”
he asked, smirking.

“As long as you and Tony keep your
hands to yourself.”

“No promises.”