Steve really did think about staying.

The notion first entered his head when a suddenly-not-missing Scott Lang burst into the compound with his crazy time machine idea. Scott's eyes were alight with a fire Steve hadn't felt for five years, an excitement Steve couldn't bring himself to feel after all that he'd lost. So Steve treated Ant-Man with reserved caution, broken hopelessness battling his natural determination to go out there and fix things, dammit! He'd been skeptical, especially when the words 'time machine' were first tossed around.

That lasted all of five minutes.

It was strange, how easy it was to push aside all his doubts and pessimism when there was the possibility of a chance to reverse what had happened. Steve hadn't been expecting it. He'd thought he would have to force himself to keep going, to constantly have to remind himself what he was still fighting for. But he didn't.

Instead, once the possibility of time travel was introduced, there was no way to stop the hope rising in Steve's chest. He could undo it all, they could undo it all! And maybe, if there was still a universe after this last chance, he could go back and see Peggy.

Why stop with seeing her? A little voice in his mind said. Why not be with her?

Steve pushed that thought firmly out of his mind. He had work to do.

Meeting Tony really put a wrench in his plans. Meeting Tony's daughter gave him pause.

Tony wasn't interested in going back in time to change things. He said that he couldn't. He sounded apologetic, and truly humbled (perhaps for the first time in his life), but he made it quite clear that his priorities were with his family, with the people he loved.

Steve understood. He hated it, but he understood. If his family had survived and grown in the last five years, if he'd had a child or even someone he loved as much as Tony Stark loved Pepper Potts with him, he'd be reluctant to let things change. If Sam was there—if Peggy was there—if Bucky was there, with him every step of the way, if they'd built a future together from the ashes of a broken world, well, he couldn't say he'd want to undo that, either.

Steve looked at Tony, really looked at him and saw the man he'd become over the last eleven years. He'd known Tony as he'd known his father Howard, as sardonic geniuses who thought with their dicks a lot of time but who had heart and valor and strength when it mattered. Steve hadn't gotten to see Howard fall in love and get married and have a child. He'd be damned if he undid Tony's chance at the same.

So Steve didn't protest anymore, but he didn't give up, either. Tony had gotten lucky. Carol Danvers had saved his life. Pepper had survived. They found each other.

But Steve? Steve had nothing. Nobody. Sure, he always had Nat and he knew Scott was here now and he felt certain that if he sought out Bruce, the big guy would have his back, but…

Sam, his most loyal companion, was gone. Sharon Carter, his last connection to his lost love, and someone he could have found something with, had vanished, too. The Wakandan King T'Challa and his genius sister Shuri, who'd nursed Bucky back to health after the Accords, were nowhere to be found. Hell, even Wanda Maximoff, who he still kind of saw as a kid he used to mentor, had turned to dust.

Peggy had died back in 2016. Those four years of getting accustomed to seeing her after a nap for him and a lifetime for her weren't enough. Steve, you've come back! You've returned home. He'd heard that so often, so many different ways, and each time just about shattered his heart. Still, it had been so much better when she was around to say it. It had been seven years since her death, and he just couldn't let it go.

And now Bucky had died too. Steve had lost him again. He'd had to feel that pain twice. It had been bad enough in 1945, when Bucky had been reaching out for him and for a fleeting moment, Steve had thought they'd get out of this together, just like they had in the back alleys of Brooklyn. It had been even worse when Thanos had snapped and Steve saw people turning to dust all around him as he was helpless to do anything. He'd turned around and there Bucky was, disintegrating into a pile of ash and there was nothing Steve could do about it.

Steve felt his jaw tighten. This time travel thing had to work.

For Sam.

For Sharon.

For King T'Challa.

For Princess Shuri.

For Wanda.

For Bucky.

For everyone who'd been lost too soon.

Steve refused to let doubt crawl in while Bruce (no, not quite Bruce. Professor Hulk) fiddled with his contraption. Banner was a genius, everyone knew that.

Yeah, a wry little voice in the back of his head piped up. A genius who botched your Super Soldier Serum so badly he turns green. And gets angry. And starts to smash things. The voice sounded suspiciously like Bucky.

Shut up, he told the voice half-heartedly.

The voice chuckled. You shut up, you punk.

All of a sudden, Steve was consumed by a need to hear that voice again, a need to hear Bucky call him a punk, or stupid, or anything, really. Five years was far too long a time to go without hearing Bucky speak. Until the snap, the longest Steve had ever been away from Bucky was two years, the first two years after he woke up from the ice.

So when Ant-Man finally came back as an adult again (and not a super elderly one), Steve didn't get angry or hopeless. He became determined. They had kinks in the machine to work out, obviously, but Steve wasn't going to give up.

He'd never given up on Bucky when he'd had a fighting chance to save him. He wasn't about to start letting down his best friend now.

Of course, it was really super helpful when Tony drove up, vibranium shield in tow, explaining in his usual arrogant, blustery, endearing way that he'd managed to build a perfectly functioning time machine in a few hours with kitchen supplies.

Tony looked at Steve seriously and told him where his priorities were. Steve heard him. He understood. Tony was his friend, and he respected his decisions.

Unbidden, a flash of times long past flickered in his mind.

"Sorry, Tony. You know I wouldn't do this if I had any other choice. But he's my friend."

"So was I."

Looking back, the problem was in the wording. Steve should have been more specific about who Bucky was, because James Buchanan Barnes had never been just Steve's friend (except for that one time with Peggy). Bucky was… a best friend. More than that, even. Steve didn't know how to explain it, or how to express it.

He had been consumed with the need to help Bucky. He had been consumed with the need to save Bucky. He had been consumed with the need to be at Bucky's side.

He would have died for Bucky that night. He would have killed for Bucky that night.

So when Tony told Steve in no uncertain terms that he would be doing absolutely nothing to jeopardize the life he had with Pepper and Morgan, Steve nodded.

He hadn't expected to see Peggy again.

After the whole botched incident with 2012 Loki and the tesseract, Steve had hardly thought about the implications of going to the SHIELD headquarters in the 1970s. He and Tony had split up, and Tony went to get the tesseract as he headed around the building. Steve was just lucky he'd heard the lady from the elevator talking to security, or else he would have gotten caught embarrassingly quick.

So he ducked into an office, only to realize it was Peggy's office. Steve edged closer to the window and watched through the blinds as Peggy stopped and spoke to someone, frowning down at a file in her hands.

The sight took his breath away.

Gosh, he'd missed her. He'd missed her spirit and her fire and those awfully red lips of hers and oh god, he was being a creepy voyeur, wasn't he? He couldn't quite help himself, though. Peggy Carter was the love of his life.

He'd die for her. He'd kill for her.

Steve grabbed four vials of Pym particles and headed out, mind racing.

Could he possibly get his happy ending, after all? The thought that had entered his mind when Scott first explained his complicated Time Heist plan, the thought that he'd stubbornly pushed to the back of his mind, made a comeback.

What if after all this was over, Steve went back to Peggy and lived his life out with her?

Steve almost cried when Bucky and Sam stepped out of the portal.

Actually, no. He did cry. There was no shame in it. He'd missed them. Five long years he'd spent without them.

Five years without Bucky.

So yeah, Captain America cried a little. He didn't care if everyone was looking at him. He cried, and he wanted so badly to just run up to Bucky and Sam and give them a great big hug and never, ever let them go again.

Especially not Bucky.

(And besides, most of the people who were looking at him were looking at his backside, anyway. That was America's ass right there.)

So instead of launching himself at Bucky Barnes and sobbing into his shoulder, Steve waited for the swarms of warriors to fall in behind him. He scowled at Thanos, his shield in one hand, Mjolnir in the other.

"Avengers…. assemble."

Really, Thanos didn't stand a chance. Professor Hulk's snap had made sure of it.

Nobody was willing to lose all these people again.

Steve fought for his values. He fought for his fallen friends—Nat and Peggy and Howard and the Commandos. He fought for the ones that had come back—Sam and King T'Challa and Wanda and Shuri. He fought for himself.

But mostly, he fought for Bucky.

In the end, it was Tony that saved the day.

Steve hadn't been there when it had happened. None of the original Avengers had been. Tony died holding Pepper's hand as Rhodey and Peter Parker gazed on tearfully. Steve hadn't found out until later, after the cleanup was underway and he'd stumbled across the trio. He'd had to call it in over the comms, because Rhodey had just lost his best friend and Pepper had lost her husband and Peter Parker was just a kid, and fuck. Tony had deserved to see Morgan grow up. Morgan had deserved to have someone as loyal and brave as Tony stay in her life.

So Tony was gone, and Nat was gone, and Clint and Thor and Bruce were broken, and who was left of their first team but Steve?

They all needed that fresh start. After the funeral, Clint went back to his family. Thor left with the Guardians. Bruce had to send Steve back to put the infinity stones where they belonged, but after that, the green guy was heading out.

Steve had volunteered to put the stones back, for obvious reasons. He'd figured it out, that everyone was moving on, moving forward with the next chapter of their lives. He should do the same. He couldn't do this anymore, this whole… superhero thing. He'd always be willing to help out if he was needed, of course, but he wanted something more.

He wanted love. He wanted life.

Bruce went over the details of Steve's trip as he stood in the machine. To the side was Sam and Bucky, and Steve felt his heart tug at the sight. The two of them had grown so close, become such good friends. They'd be okay without him.

"It'll only be five seconds for us," Bruce said.

Steve nodded. He hadn't told them he wasn't coming back. He didn't think he'd be able to bear the look on Bucky's face.

"Wait."

Steve looked at his best friend, his oldest friend, the person who mattered most to him in this universe. Bucky was smiling at him, a knowing gleam in his eyes. His smile was tight and resigned, like he knew what was going to happen. Steve felt a lump in his throat. How could he know?

"Move his timestamp a week and a day after the plane crash."

"What?" Hulk said, nonplussed. "I mean, sure, I'll do it, but why?"

Bucky didn't answer. He just met Steve's gaze with so much affection Steve felt his breath leave his lungs. Bucky was giving him his chance. Bucky was doing everything in his power to make sure Steve got his dance with Peggy.

And he was looking at Steve like he was saying goodbye.

Steve tried to burn the sight into his memory forever—Bucky gazing at him with that tiny smile, his eyes soft and open and understanding, not a single secret between them despite Steve's best efforts, because nobody knew Steve Rogers better than Bucky Barnes, and Bucky Barnes was no fool.

But all too quickly, he was whisked away to a different time. Forever.

His reunion with Peggy had been everything he'd imagined.

He couldn't explain much to her, of course, but she was nothing if not a smart woman and so she pieced it together fairly quickly on her own. Not the thing about the infinity stones, but the time travel bit.

(Steve was so sick of infinity stones that if he never saw one again in his life it would be too damn soon. He'd risked his ass— his very fine ass, America's ass, he might add—to get them back to the exact times and places they were taken. The reality stone, or sludge as Thor had called it, was the hardest one. How on earth was he supposed to put the Aether back into Jane Foster? It was lucky that he'd returned before Frigga had died. She'd known what to do, and she hadn't seemed perturbed by his presence).

But none of that was important now. What was important was that Peggy and Steve had finally had that date.

They danced the whole night long. Peggy hadn't really needed to teach him anymore, but it didn't matter. He let her lead, for he was so delighted to be back in her presence once more. Her hair was curled to perfection. Her intelligent eyes shone with happiness and spirit. Her dress flared beautifully. Her lips were painted red, just as they always had been.

Steve couldn't stop staring.

If Bucky had been there, he would have laughed, whispered "You've got it so bad!" and turned to give Sam a high-five…

Steve blinked. Bucky… he'd never see Bucky again. Not until 2014, when the Winter Soldier made a public appearance. He'd be chronologically 96 then, and physically over 100. The thought filled him with clenching dread. He'd barely managed five years without Bucky. He didn't know how he'd handle seventy.

"What's wrong?" Peggy asked him.

Steve blinked. "Nothing's wrong." Then he smiled. "Peggy Carter, I love you."

Peggy looked touched. Her eyes filled with tears. She leaned up and kissed him. "I love you too, Steve Rogers." She whispered against his mouth. She pulled away briskly, and Steve remembered that was always something he admired about her: her ability to love and lead at the same time.

"I love you, Steve," Peggy said again. She smiled sadly at him. "This is the last time I'll see you, isn't it?"

"What?" Steve whispered, his throat dry. "Why?"

"Oh, Steve." Peggy reached up with a hand, cupping his jaw and running her thumb across his cheekbone affectionately. Steve closed his eyes, trying to commit the feel of her hand on his face to memory. "You belong to a different time. A different era. You're not meant to be here anymore."

Steve reeled back, hurt. His eyes snapped open. "But I love you."

"And I, you." Peggy said. "But our story… yours and mine, the love we share… how far does it go?" She looked at him with knowing eyes. "How far can it go, when you also love another?"

Steve was starting to hate those dark, knowing eyes. Peggy had them. Bucky had them. He was forever going to be haunted by them.

But she was right. Steve could admit it freely now. He didn't know why it took him so long to figure it out— perhaps it was the result of '40s homophobia and subconscious repression. Maybe he was just oblivious. Maybe it was because loving Bucky just felt so natural, like he'd always done it, that he never realized that he'd fallen for his best friend.

That wasn't so important right now. What was important was what he now knew. He loved Peggy, but he loved Bucky, too. He'd loved Bucky his whole life. And he knew that if he stayed here, in 1945, he couldn't act like he didn't know anything. He'd leave no stone unturned when it came to Hydra, wouldn't rest until he found James Buchanan Barnes and hopefully not the Winter Soldier, and brought him home.

Peggy drew closer to Steve. "I'm glad you came," she said quietly. "Even if I know you're not staying."

Steve swallowed. Tears blurred the corner of his vision.

Peggy reached up and kissed him again. She tasted like sweet sadness and possibility. And even as Steve kissed her back, he knew she was right.

Maybe he hadn't come here to stay, after all. Maybe he'd come here for closure.

He returned the very next day to 2023. It truly had been just a few seconds since he'd left to Bruce, Sam, and Bucky, even if it had been close to two weeks for him.

"Welcome back, Cap." Sam smiled at him. Steve nodded absently, but kept his eyes fixed on Bucky.

It gave him the slightest hint of satisfaction to see the surprise in Bucky's eyes, before it faded to warm joy.

"Took you long enough, punk." Bucky said, a tiny smile quirking at the corner of his lips. The sight made Steve smile. He stepped off the platform and strode straight over to Bucky, grabbing his face in his rough hands and planting his lips on his best friend's. Bucky went very still for a moment, before he kissed back roughly, his hands planting firmly on Steve's back.

They kissed for much too long to be considered innocent. Steve didn't really care, if he was being honest. After one hundred years, he wasn't in the mood to waste time. It wasn't until Sam hollered over to him that he finally pulled away from Bucky.

"Oi, aren't you guys gettin' tired of sucking face?" Sam shouted, but he was beaming widely at them from next to a surprised but no less pleased Hulk.

Steve laughed to himself, looking into Bucky's eyes. "I could do this all day."

(Hours later, when Steve and Bucky were curled up on a couch together in Sam's apartment in DC, Steve gave Sam the vibranium shield Howard Stark had made for him eighty years ago. Or two years ago, considering he'd brought it with him from 1945. Sam looked at him in confusion, but Steve refused to budge. He was ready to move on to the next chapter of his life, and while he'd always be there to help out if absolutely necessary, he wasn't going on active duty anymore.

"How does it feel?" He asked Sam.

"Like it's someone else's." Sam confessed.

"It shouldn't."

Sam looked gobsmacked. Bucky squeezed Steve's hand, and nodded at Falcon. Take it, his eyes seemed to say, You deserve it.

Then Bucky turned to Steve. "Just cause you ain't runnin' around in leather anymore doesn't mean I'm gonna stop going on missions."

Steve smiled at the man he'd loved his whole life. "I'd expect nothing less.")