Captain America fic: Familiarity (1/1)
Title: Familiarity
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: This is kind of is an AU of Endgame? A fix-it of sorts for Steve/Bucky. I wrote this for my dear friend, kristen_mara. I always miss her birthday, so I hope that a little late is better than nothing. You are the best kind of friend, and I’m better for knowing you. I wish you another year of fun, fandom and fullness of life.
Summary: As it turned out, however, a lot of people didn’t know Steve Rogers very well at all.
-o-
People who knew Steve thought that retirement would be hard for him. They thought with his desire to serve, his incessant ability to fill needs that he’d struggle finding a purpose without a fight. They believed he needed a cause to champion, and that life outside the battlefield would just be boring for a guy like him.
As it turned out, however, a lot of people didn’t know Steve Rogers very well at all.
-o-
“I could do this all day,” was a thing he said. He said it a lot, to be fair. He said it more than he wanted to. He said it as often as necessary.
That was the thing, though. That was the sticking point.
As often as necessary.
See, Steve said, “I could do this all day.”
He never said he wanted to.
-o-
The fact was no one ever asked what Steve wanted. Or, at the very least, no one ever cared what he wanted. No one cared that he had the heart to be in the army; they just cared that he didn’t fit their profile of the perfect soldier. No one asked if he wanted to be the army’s poster boy. They just assumed that he would do the duty they deemed fit because what else was he supposed to do?
No one asked if he wanted to crash the plane and save the world.
And Nick Fury didn’t ask if he wanted to lead the Avengers.
No, Nick Fury assumed that Steve would heed the call because that was the necessary thing.
He was right, of course. Steve did lead the Avengers. He led the Avengers and he saved the world. Because that was the necessary thing, and if not him, then who?
That was, naturally, what made Steve Rogers a hero.
Every battle he fought, every sacrifice he made, took him closer to the realization that it wasn’t what he wanted. It never had been. And sure, Steve knew that it was important to be altruistic. He knew that the world needed a hero. It didn’t miss his notice, though, that the world would take and take and take. It didn’t care about what Steve wanted. It only cared about what Steve could give.
There was one person who looked at Steve differently.
One person who had looked at Steve and seen something different.
-o-
To be fair, Bucky never asked what Steve wanted. He never asked Steve if he wanted to go to war. He never asked Steve if he wanted to keep fighting. He never asked Steve if he was happy with his life.
Bucky never had to.
Because Bucky already knew.
That was why Bucky was gentle when he left to serve in the war. That was why he wasn’t surprised when Steve rescued him overseas. That was why Bucky had been the first to follow him into combat. That was why Bucky had dragged him from the river. That was why Bucky had worked so hard to disengage as the Winter Soldier. That was why Bucky didn’t hesitate to join him in Wakanda. That was why Bucky was there until the end.
Because Bucky knew.
Long before Steve had a clue, Bucky knew.
-o-
Steve had lost a lot of fights and that had never stopped him.
But when Bucky disintegrated, he came to an abrupt and horrible halt. Half the world, half the universe -- it was gone. All of Steve’s previous victories meant nothing, absolutely nothing.
Steve would trade them all, he would leave Thanos be, if he could just have Bucky back.
Perspective was what it was called.
Steve found his about 100 years too late.
-o-
There was one fight left, then. One fight Steve knew he had to fight. No, not that. This wasn’t duty. This was the first fight he wanted to fight.
He wasn’t sure if anyone noticed the difference.
That probably didn’t matter.
Not when he felt it, burning away inside of him, burning away the part of him that had been frozen in the ice all these years. That fire in him would thaw him at long last.
Or consume him.
Either way, he knew this was the end.
-o-
The end was the beginning.
That was a thing Steve had heard of.
But, for the first time in his life, it was something he felt, too.
-o-
Steve gave the shield to Sam. He went to Tony’s funeral and told Pepper he was sorry. He said goodbye to Thor, and he shook hands with Clint. He hugged Bruce, and he gave a donation to the orphanage that Natasha had spent so much of her time after the snap working on.
He wished Peter Parker well. He paid homage to the King of Wakanda. He told Wanda she was going to do great things. He saluted Rhodey, and he told Carol Danvers he was glad to have met her. Down the list he went, one hero after the next.
Closure was important to letting go.
Closure was imperative for moving on.
-o-
Steve said goodbye to everyone else.
But when he got to Bucky, he smiled.
And he said, “Hey, Buck.”
-o-
Sure, sometimes it was hard. Sometimes, Steve watched the news and felt a pang of anxiety. Sometimes, he felt the pull of obligation. Sometimes, he was worried that Nick Fury would show up on his doorstep and tell him that the fight was coming and that the world needed him.
Sometimes, he was worried that he would answer that call.
But then Bucky stirred next to him in bed.
As it turned out, Steve wasn’t that worried after all.
-o-
It was a simple life. It was a modest home just outside a modest city. They had worn furniture, and the walls were decorated with local art. Bucky framed his favorite drawings from Steve’s repertoire to fill out the rest.
Bucky had learned in Wakanda that he liked things simple. He liked agrarian lifestyles, and he was rather fond of livestock, as it turned out. Their homestead wasn’t large, but it was large enough. Someone somewhere had insisted upon some security measures, and Steve had consented, as long as they were minimal and didn’t interfere with daily life.
Bucky spent his days working the land, and he worried sometimes that Steve didn’t have enough to do. He encouraged his hobbies, buying art supplies and books. Bucky brought home a stray cat, who took to Steve immediately, and the pair of them flitted about the house, discovering new things and testing old boundaries. The cat liked to sit where Steve was working, and sometimes that made it hard to get things done.
Fortunately, there was nothing pressing to do.
If dinner was late, Bucky never minded. He stroked the cat with a smile and always understood.
-o-
There was news from Wakanda. There was a sighting of Captain Marvel. Valkyrie, Queen of Asgard, made the news. Tony Stark’s daughter was starting high school. People speculated where the Guardians of the Galaxy might be now. Clint visited with his wife and kids, and every year, Steve visited the children’s center that had grown up from Natasha’s orphanage.
Then, as it was, Steve returned home.
That was a novel concept for a man like Steve.
Home.
-o-
They had an expansive music collection, and Bucky had invested heavily in old movies.
“For the time we missed,” he explained.
Steve cuddled close to him on the couch and closed his eyes.
“For the time we missed,” he agreed.
-o-
Steve kept house. He cleaned a lot, and he polished toilets like he used to polish his shield. Bucky liked to keep the house cool, and in the winter, they sometimes stayed in bed until the sun had risen, their bodies pressed close for warmth. The cat would curl up between them -- they had long since stopped trying to keep it off the bed, that was a fight Steve knew wasn’t worth fighting -- purring contentedly as the morning waned.
“I don’t want to get up,” Bucky would murmur at him some days.
“Then don’t,” Steve said.
Bucky never had a rebuttal. “If that’s what you want,” he breathed back.
It was.
-o-
As it turned out, not a lot of people really knew Steve Rogers at all. The cat, Steve decided after enough time, didn’t count.
One person did, however.
That was all that mattered in the end.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: This is kind of is an AU of Endgame? A fix-it of sorts for Steve/Bucky. I wrote this for my dear friend, kristen_mara. I always miss her birthday, so I hope that a little late is better than nothing. You are the best kind of friend, and I’m better for knowing you. I wish you another year of fun, fandom and fullness of life.
Summary: As it turned out, however, a lot of people didn’t know Steve Rogers very well at all.
-o-
People who knew Steve thought that retirement would be hard for him. They thought with his desire to serve, his incessant ability to fill needs that he’d struggle finding a purpose without a fight. They believed he needed a cause to champion, and that life outside the battlefield would just be boring for a guy like him.
As it turned out, however, a lot of people didn’t know Steve Rogers very well at all.
-o-
“I could do this all day,” was a thing he said. He said it a lot, to be fair. He said it more than he wanted to. He said it as often as necessary.
That was the thing, though. That was the sticking point.
As often as necessary.
See, Steve said, “I could do this all day.”
He never said he wanted to.
-o-
The fact was no one ever asked what Steve wanted. Or, at the very least, no one ever cared what he wanted. No one cared that he had the heart to be in the army; they just cared that he didn’t fit their profile of the perfect soldier. No one asked if he wanted to be the army’s poster boy. They just assumed that he would do the duty they deemed fit because what else was he supposed to do?
No one asked if he wanted to crash the plane and save the world.
And Nick Fury didn’t ask if he wanted to lead the Avengers.
No, Nick Fury assumed that Steve would heed the call because that was the necessary thing.
He was right, of course. Steve did lead the Avengers. He led the Avengers and he saved the world. Because that was the necessary thing, and if not him, then who?
That was, naturally, what made Steve Rogers a hero.
Every battle he fought, every sacrifice he made, took him closer to the realization that it wasn’t what he wanted. It never had been. And sure, Steve knew that it was important to be altruistic. He knew that the world needed a hero. It didn’t miss his notice, though, that the world would take and take and take. It didn’t care about what Steve wanted. It only cared about what Steve could give.
There was one person who looked at Steve differently.
One person who had looked at Steve and seen something different.
-o-
To be fair, Bucky never asked what Steve wanted. He never asked Steve if he wanted to go to war. He never asked Steve if he wanted to keep fighting. He never asked Steve if he was happy with his life.
Bucky never had to.
Because Bucky already knew.
That was why Bucky was gentle when he left to serve in the war. That was why he wasn’t surprised when Steve rescued him overseas. That was why Bucky had been the first to follow him into combat. That was why Bucky had dragged him from the river. That was why Bucky had worked so hard to disengage as the Winter Soldier. That was why Bucky didn’t hesitate to join him in Wakanda. That was why Bucky was there until the end.
Because Bucky knew.
Long before Steve had a clue, Bucky knew.
-o-
Steve had lost a lot of fights and that had never stopped him.
But when Bucky disintegrated, he came to an abrupt and horrible halt. Half the world, half the universe -- it was gone. All of Steve’s previous victories meant nothing, absolutely nothing.
Steve would trade them all, he would leave Thanos be, if he could just have Bucky back.
Perspective was what it was called.
Steve found his about 100 years too late.
-o-
There was one fight left, then. One fight Steve knew he had to fight. No, not that. This wasn’t duty. This was the first fight he wanted to fight.
He wasn’t sure if anyone noticed the difference.
That probably didn’t matter.
Not when he felt it, burning away inside of him, burning away the part of him that had been frozen in the ice all these years. That fire in him would thaw him at long last.
Or consume him.
Either way, he knew this was the end.
-o-
The end was the beginning.
That was a thing Steve had heard of.
But, for the first time in his life, it was something he felt, too.
-o-
Steve gave the shield to Sam. He went to Tony’s funeral and told Pepper he was sorry. He said goodbye to Thor, and he shook hands with Clint. He hugged Bruce, and he gave a donation to the orphanage that Natasha had spent so much of her time after the snap working on.
He wished Peter Parker well. He paid homage to the King of Wakanda. He told Wanda she was going to do great things. He saluted Rhodey, and he told Carol Danvers he was glad to have met her. Down the list he went, one hero after the next.
Closure was important to letting go.
Closure was imperative for moving on.
-o-
Steve said goodbye to everyone else.
But when he got to Bucky, he smiled.
And he said, “Hey, Buck.”
-o-
Sure, sometimes it was hard. Sometimes, Steve watched the news and felt a pang of anxiety. Sometimes, he felt the pull of obligation. Sometimes, he was worried that Nick Fury would show up on his doorstep and tell him that the fight was coming and that the world needed him.
Sometimes, he was worried that he would answer that call.
But then Bucky stirred next to him in bed.
As it turned out, Steve wasn’t that worried after all.
-o-
It was a simple life. It was a modest home just outside a modest city. They had worn furniture, and the walls were decorated with local art. Bucky framed his favorite drawings from Steve’s repertoire to fill out the rest.
Bucky had learned in Wakanda that he liked things simple. He liked agrarian lifestyles, and he was rather fond of livestock, as it turned out. Their homestead wasn’t large, but it was large enough. Someone somewhere had insisted upon some security measures, and Steve had consented, as long as they were minimal and didn’t interfere with daily life.
Bucky spent his days working the land, and he worried sometimes that Steve didn’t have enough to do. He encouraged his hobbies, buying art supplies and books. Bucky brought home a stray cat, who took to Steve immediately, and the pair of them flitted about the house, discovering new things and testing old boundaries. The cat liked to sit where Steve was working, and sometimes that made it hard to get things done.
Fortunately, there was nothing pressing to do.
If dinner was late, Bucky never minded. He stroked the cat with a smile and always understood.
-o-
There was news from Wakanda. There was a sighting of Captain Marvel. Valkyrie, Queen of Asgard, made the news. Tony Stark’s daughter was starting high school. People speculated where the Guardians of the Galaxy might be now. Clint visited with his wife and kids, and every year, Steve visited the children’s center that had grown up from Natasha’s orphanage.
Then, as it was, Steve returned home.
That was a novel concept for a man like Steve.
Home.
-o-
They had an expansive music collection, and Bucky had invested heavily in old movies.
“For the time we missed,” he explained.
Steve cuddled close to him on the couch and closed his eyes.
“For the time we missed,” he agreed.
-o-
Steve kept house. He cleaned a lot, and he polished toilets like he used to polish his shield. Bucky liked to keep the house cool, and in the winter, they sometimes stayed in bed until the sun had risen, their bodies pressed close for warmth. The cat would curl up between them -- they had long since stopped trying to keep it off the bed, that was a fight Steve knew wasn’t worth fighting -- purring contentedly as the morning waned.
“I don’t want to get up,” Bucky would murmur at him some days.
“Then don’t,” Steve said.
Bucky never had a rebuttal. “If that’s what you want,” he breathed back.
It was.
-o-
As it turned out, not a lot of people really knew Steve Rogers at all. The cat, Steve decided after enough time, didn’t count.
One person did, however.
That was all that mattered in the end.