The platform buzzes, and suddenly goes quiet. The cycle has finished. Bucky doesn’t bother to look. There’s no way Steve’s coming back when he has the chance to stay. He moves to walk away, to move on with his life, somehow.
“Buck -- ?”
Bucky whirls around, hair flying.
26 Apr 2019
Staring at the empty platform where Steve had stood just a moment ago, Bucky experiences one of the longest five seconds of his life. Steve’s not coming back, he thinks, over and over, Steve’s not coming back.
A weird distortion shimmers in the air as Steve materializes on the platform. Bucky lets out his breath in a quiet rush. He was so sure. He said his goodbyes and convinced himself that he’d get by just fine, that he was happy that Steve could finally have the life he’d always wanted with Peggy. He knew enough about the machine to know that Steve had a chance to go back to the 40s and pick up the life that was lost to him when he crashed the Valkyrie. And yet, here’s Steve back again, looking tired, dusty, disheveled. Bucky can’t tell what Steve’s thinking as their eyes meet. He’s never seen Steve’s eyes look so blue.
- Part 2 of Fix-its that my heart needed
Fandoms: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Captain America (Movies)
24 Apr 2019
He says it'll take five seconds.
Bucky hopes that he's made the right decision.
27 Apr 2019
"Don't you know by now there's nothing in the world that could make me walk away from you?"
[Or: a fix-it for Endgame because it would seem I have to do everything around here.]
22 May 2019
When Steve lurches awake, his heart is pounding in his chest. His shirt, soaked in sweat, clings damply to his skin. One fist is clutching the sheets of the bed, and the other is clenched so hard he can feel his fingernails making little half-moons in his palm.
The Stones. Dust drifting through the air, ash so thick you could choke on it. Five endless, aching years of white noise. His team. The lunacy of time travel, the mind-bending, fuse-blowing reality of hand-to-hand combat with himself. The bruise blooming across his cheek to serve as proof. A soft jazz song playing on a record, a crackling hearth, red lipstick. Death, death, death—
Beside him, Bucky shifts in his sleep, turns over so he's facing Steve. His eyes are closed and his mouth is parted, and Steve can see the dark shadow of his hair spread across the pillow like an ink-stain.
(or, Steve and Bucky in the aftermath of Endgame, picking memories apart.)