Summary: It's been eight months since Bucky left Steve laying on the beach. How will he react when he comes home one night with his door ajar and a familiar face waiting for him in his living room?

Warning: This is a Steve x Bucky fic. Don't like, don't read.

(Author's Note): I wrote this for a friend last year after we went and saw The Winter Soldier. Thanks, Morgan, for encouraging me to write this and thank you being my friend even when it probably would've been easier not to be! I love you, you beautiful ginger creature!

They were both silent for a while after that, each lost in thought, the only movement Bucky moving closer to the center on the bed and Steve obeying when he understood it to be a request.

"Where'd you learn to cook anyway?" Bucky asked quietly, hesitant to break the silence.

"Just learned how to, I guess," Steve answered, his head tilted back as he stared at the ceiling, "my father died when I was a child and my mother just as I was finishing school. So it was just me and you for a while, and since you were too stubborn to try, I had to learn for the both of us, otherwise we would've starved."

"Well, you make a lovely housewife, if I do say so myself," Bucky snickered, earning a punch to the arm that only made him laugh harder.

"Yeah, well," Steve chuckled, feeling decidedly lighter watching Bucky laugh again, "I kept us alive, didn't I?"

"Yes," Bucky laughed, "I suppose you did, didn't you? Though, I don't think you meant to keep us alive quite this long."

"No, I don't suppose I did," Steve looked at Bucky over his shoulder, "shame though, I would've preferred it to have been my cooking than…"

"Yeah," Bucky breathed, "me too."

Steve was tempted to let them slip into silence again, but he wanted to hear Bucky's voice and there were questions he still needed answering.

"So what now?"

"I… don't know, to be perfectly honest. My whole strategy was to show up, and I didn't really plan any further than that," Bucky shrugged, pushing around bits of burnt toast on his plate with his fork.

"You can stay here if you like," Steve blushed, glad that the other man was looking away.

"At least until you work up the courage to pursue your mystery girl," Bucky smirked.

Steve missed the hint of pain in his voice as he spoke.

"There's no mystery girl," Steve smiled bitterly, wishing that there was.

Then, for a while, there was silence.

Neither could bring themselves to look up at the other, but if they had, the universe would've thanked them for it.

Steve was frowning, staring down at the floor and ringing his hands in a desperate, eternally uncomfortable sort of way.

Bucky too was frowning, but it was not anxiety on his face so much as a hurt Steve would've recognized in an instant if only he had the strength to look up.

But they didn't look up, and they didn't speak, and this silence, unlike the others before it, was heavy, and obviously so.

Steve was becoming hypersensitive to his surroundings and the more uncomfortable he became the more his blankets itched his hands and the skin of his legs not covered by the boxer shorts he had slept in the night before, the bed seemed firmer than usual, denying him any comfort no matter how many times he shifted his weight, the air grew thick and stuck in his throat with every breath, and the heat, the goddamn heat radiating off of Bucky's leg left Steve burning every time it brushed casually against the small of his back.

Steve was fighting desperately not to turn to look at his friend, because, if he did, he knew that he would be unable to combat the desire to wrap his arms around him. If he looked into those eyes he loved and had never expected to see again, Steve knew that he would give away every emotion he was fighting to repress. A part of him wanted to give in, to find out, but there was another, bigger part that was still reluctant to begin this thing he had been told his whole life was wrong and, moreover, was worried that Bucky wouldn't want to start anything at all.

"Is it Peggy?" Bucky asked suddenly, but so quietly that Steve almost thought he had imagined it.

"Why would you think that?"

"It makes sense," Bucky continued, but his voice remained a soft whisper, "I read up on her at the museum, and I do have vague memories of the two of you… she has Alzheimer's now… right? So, every time you go to see her, she's forgotten that you're back… I suppose that must be hard for you… to have to go there and remind her every time… I get why you are hesitant to express any of those feelings… but, you know, in truth, I thought you were being much more cryptic earlier when you said they probably forgot, but I guess you were being literal."

"It's…" Steve's mouth was dry and every breath got caught in his throat, "it's not Peggy?"

Bucky's head shot up and he stared at Steve with wide, surprised eyes, "Who else could it be, then?" Bucky asked, his voice no longer a whisper, "There's no one else left from back then, no one who you could've been with long enough ago that they would've had time to forget… There's no one left except for you, Peggy, and… me."

"Just forget about it," Steve said quietly, his courage dissolving, "I told you, there's no mystery girl."

"Steve, what are you not telling me?" Bucky asked, his voice uncertain and small.

"Nothing, I told you to forget it," Steve said, standing from the bed and making his way to the door.

"I've forgotten too many things!" Bucky yelled after him, working frantically to untangle himself from the blankets and go after the soldier, "I don't want to forget anymore!"

"Bucky," Steve sighed, pausing in the doorway, keeping his back to the man inside the room, "some things are best forgotten."

"Steve," Bucky called as he finally got himself free and his feet hit the floor, "wait will you? Just wait for a minute!"

"I have waited. I waited in that ice for seventy years, I waited all the years since then, and when I finally thought I could stop waiting… I had to wait eight months more."

To Bucky, Steve seemed stiff in that doorway, his arms pressed against his sides, his shoulders drawn and stiff, his head bowed against his chest as he spoke with forced calm.

"Steve, I…" Bucky breathed as he reached the other soldier, only to see that he was far from calm.

Steve was shaking. His shoulders were drawn high to conceal their trembling, this hands were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white, and, when Bucky looked hesitantly around to look at his face, he saw that his eyes were shut tight and his teeth were clenched against silent cries.

Bucky didn't want to believe that those were tears he saw collecting in the corners of Steve's eyes.

"Steve…" Bucky breathed shakily.

"I…" Steve's voice broke as he tried to maintain his composure, "I thought you were dead… I watched you fall that day… I couldn't save you and I had to go back alone… they wouldn't let me go search for your body… they made me leave you… my best friend, my oldest friend, my brother, my…" Steve's voice died and was replaced by muffled sobs as his tears broke free and burned their way down his cheeks.

"Your… your what?" Bucky pleaded, grabbing Steve by the shoulders and forcing him to face him, "what were we? What was I to you?"

Steve didn't answer. He couldn't answer. He didn't know how to. What had they been? Had they ever truly been anything more than what everyone else saw?

"Steve!" Bucky yelled, shaking the trembling soldier desperately, "What were we?"

"I don't know!" Steve yelled back, his voice heavy with tears, "I… I don't know…"

"Then…" Bucky's voice was wavering as he stared up into the face of the man he knew everything and nothing about, "what… what is this all about?"

"I don't know," Steve repeated, his eyes still shut tight, "we… might have been… something… but… I don't know…"

"Something?" Bucky whispered, "What do you mean by something?"

"Just… something," Steve said pathetically, trying unsuccessfully to turn away.

"Don't bull shit me here, Steve," Bucky pleaded as he took in a deep breath and lifted both his hands to either side of Steve's face, forcing him to face him, "if we might have been… something… how do you not know? How do you not know whether or not we were ever something?"

"Because…" Steve opened his eyes, "the only time we ever talked about it… tried to talk about it… you…" Steve's voice broke as a fresh set of tears fell from his reddened eyes.

"What happened?" Bucky asked, his heart breaking at the sight of the man before him.

"You… you promised!" Steve voice broke again, "you promised we'd talk when we got back… you promised… and then…"

"I never came back…" Bucky finished, and, with his new understanding, the memory came flooding back to him.

"Bucky… there is something I've been meaning to talk to you about," Steve said, making Bucky's heart rate quicken, just like it did every time he heard the other soldier's voice, "I don't know what it is exactly… I can't explain it… and I have no idea of knowing whether or not you'll know what I'm talking about… but, see, the thing is I-"

"Stop."

He couldn't breathe.

Bucky stared into those blue eyes, and he knew exactly what he was talking about. He had never in his life dreamed that Steve would feel how he did, but, looking into the eyes he knew so well and seeing all the nervous uncertainty he felt every time he thought about confessing to his friend, he knew that it was true.

"You don't have to… you don't have to say it."

He knew exactly what Steve was feeling, which was why he couldn't let him utter those words aloud, not right then.

"But, you don't understand," Steve pleaded.

Bucky would've laughed if the hurt look on Steve's face wasn't breaking his heart.

"Shut up for a minute, will ya?" he smiled shyly, sheepishly, "I do understand. You don't think I do, but I do. I know what you're feeling and… me too."

The way Steve's face lit up was enough to send Bucky's heart racing, "can't you just let me say it? Just so I know that we really are talking about the same thing?"

"No," Bucky shook his head, wishing will all his heart that he could let him say it, "no, because… I'm scared… I've been scared… this thing… as stupid as it sounds, this thing scares me so much more than any goddamn Nazi bastard ever could… I'm scared of what it means… So, for now, let's leave it at this and… when we get back… we'll figure this out… okay?"

"But, Bucky, I-"

"Hey, hurry up in there!" a voice interrupted from the entrance of the room, "we've got to get going soon!"

"We're coming," Bucky replied, then waited until the sound of the intruder's boots faded away and they were alone once more, "look, we've got to go. We'll figure all this out when we get back, so, until then-"

"But, Bucky I-"

"Stop," Bucky said, his voice firm, "I said we'll figure it out when we get back, so, until then, just be happy with this, okay?"

Before he gave himself time to think, Bucky leaned up and planted a shy, gentle kiss on Steve's cheek.

"Come on then," Bucky said, the blush burning across his face betraying his stern tone, "you goddamn punk."

"F-fine, j-jerk," Steve stammered, making Bucky's knees weak and his face burn even hotter, "but you can't chicken out!"

"I know, I know," Bucky muttered, unable to keep a small smile from twitching at his lips, "I promise, we'll talk the second we get back."

The moment they stepped onto the train later that day, Bucky regretted his decision. He wished that he could go back, just so he could get a chance to hear the words he had waited so many years to hear, but he knew why he hadn't let him.

Bucky knew that if he had let Steve say those words, every ounce of fight would've drained from him. If he had let Steve say it, he wouldn't have a reason to fight anymore. He would never feel the need to fight for his country again, because his one and only priority would have been to protect Steve.

Never again would he be able to leave Steve's side for fear of losing him, and that is an impossible goal for a soldier.

But, no matter how reasonable his decision, Bucky regretted not letting Steve tell him. Because, as he fell, as he stared into the face of the friend who meant so much more to him than that, as he thought he was going to die, he wished with all his heart that he had let Steve tell him the words he had whispered in the second before he had hit the ground:

"I love you."

R&R