Chapter One

"We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes; two young men who gave their lives in service of their country."

The graduates of S.H.I.E.L.D. High all bowed their heads. No one wanted to look up at the two coffins standing before them. They were too real. It was too difficult to accept that the coffins really belonged to a deceased Steve and a deceased Bucky.

It was five years after they had all graduated. Since that time, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Peggy (though no one really knew about Peggy's involvement - Fury wanted her as undercover as possible), Natasha, Clint, and Maria had all joined S.H.I.E.L.D., which turned out to be an intelligence agency as well as a high school. Steve and Bucky had been running a covert operation in Russia for S.H.I.E.L.D. when they had met their untimely demise. They had missed their extraction point and had not been heard from since. After a week and a half, Nick Fury had no choice but to declare them dead. Natasha had been the one forced to break the news to everyone; Peggy, Tony, and worst of all: Mrs. Barnes.

Mrs. Barnes had been surprisingly put-together throughout the whole experience. She had planned the funeral with the help of Peggy, she had insisted that every graduate coming to the funeral from out of town stay with her for the weekend, and she had even hosted Loki's every-growing herd of cats. Even when she was first told that Steve had perished alongside of Bucky, Mrs. Barnes had looked at Natasha with sad, tired eyes and said, "Well, of course he did. Those boys did everything together." There had been no crying, no resentment; just quiet acceptance.

Peggy had taken the news surprisingly well, too. Unlike Mrs. Barnes, she had shed a sizeable amount of tears, but she had not gone through the stage of denial that others had. Instead, she had just hugged Natasha and asked her how she was holding up. Natasha could not believe it.

Natasha did not take the news nearly as well as Mrs. Barnes and Peggy had. When Fury had broken the news to her, she was angry. She broke his desk, shattered his windows, and blamed him for sending Steve to his death. When Fury asked her to tell everybody that Steve had died, she had fractured his wrist and nearly ripped out his good eye. Once Fury left to get his wrist and eye looked at, she had curled up under his desk and cried for about six hours. Clint had found her and brought her home sometime around three in the morning. It had taken her an additional 28 hours to compose herself just enough to break the news to everyone.

Even now, days after hearing the news, Natasha was struggling to accept that she had lost her one and only best friend. Whether she accepted it or not, though, the coffin designated to Steve was right there in front of her. It was reflecting the sunlight directly in her face while the horrible minister spoke, like Steve was actually trying to catch her attention at a time like this. He would have, too. Natasha smiled at the thought.

Steve would have absolutely hated this funeral. It was so impersonal, so boring. There were no stories about the stupid things that he and Bucky had done in their lifetime, nothing about his accomplishments, no self-righteous remarks...he would have been having a fit.

Natasha sighed as the funeral finally dragged to an end. She just had to survive the reception and then she would be left to grieve on her own; assuming that Clint wouldn't try to convince her to go for dinner afterwards, of course.

Natasha had clearly been very impacted by the news of her best friend's death, Clint knew that. He had found her in a fetal position under Nick Fury's desk hours after she had heard the news. Even after he had gotten her out from under the desk, she had refused to speak for just a little longer than a day. When she finally spoke, she spoke of nothing other than Steve.

Clint knew better than to try to comfort her. She didn't need his sympathy, his pity, or his awkward attempts at consolation. She just needed time and a few carefully selected hours of solitude. Maybe he would try to take her out to dinner after the reception.

As everyone began to shuffle back to the church for the reception, Tony remained standing directly in front of Steve's grave. He glared at the headstone as though it had personally wronged him. In a way, he supposed, it had. It made the claim that Steve was dead.

"Tony, we're going to the reception." Pepper reminded him in a light voice.

Tony didn't turn around. "I'll meet you guys there."

"Do you want me to stay?" Pepper asked.

"Nah, that's alright. I, uh, I just need a minute." Tony replied with an entirely forced smile.

Pepper spared him a sympathetic smile before joining Natasha and Peggy just a few feet ahead. Tony watched her go before letting out a heavy sigh and turning to the two shiny headstones standing before him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head.

"This wasn't how our five year reunion was supposed to go, you jackass." He murmured as he glared at Steve's headstone, "You were supposed to be alive for it. Jesus, this is just like you. You couldn't just call us up and ask to hang out like a normal guy. You had to get yourself killed and make us all sit through that Christ awful funeral. And you had to take Bucky with you. It was just so that we couldn't ask if we should call him your widow, I know it was. This is just...it's so like you, Rogers." Tony scowled and blinked rapidly in an effort to hold back the tears threatening to pour from his eyes.

It took Tony a minute or two to realize that there would be no response. He let out a huff of disbelief and shook his head. After glaring at Steve's grave for another few seconds, he squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head.

"You know I've lost people," He mumbled, his voice quivering a bit, "You know that I have, Rogers. Why'd you have to go and pull a dick move like this? This was your final revenge for all the shit I gave you about calculus, wasn't it? Well played, well played. Just...uh...well, now that you've won...could you just come back? C'mon, Steve. You can even bring your boyfriend with you. I won't even ask how it's scientifically possible. I'll just...well...I'll tell you that you're an asshole for dying in the first place, but I'll try to be nicer after that. Maybe. I don't know. Just see if you can manage that, Rogers, alright?"

Once again, there was no response. Tony wasn't looking for one anymore. He just nodded in the grave's direction and trudged up towards the church.

"I'm going to kill you if we ever make it through this." Bucky growled as he and Steve tromped through the harsh Russian terrain that they were now stranded in. Steve sighed heavily and hung his head. He knew that he should have told Bucky to stay at home for this particular mission.

"Look, it's been a little over a week. S.H.I.E.L.D. is probably looking for us. We just have to get into town. Once we get there, we can call Fury and figure out some kind of alternate extraction plan." Steve tried to reason optimistically. Bucky snorted loudly and shook his head.

"You're smarter than that, Rogers. If we walk into the town now, we'll be recognized and executed in about ten minutes tops. We're stuck out here like Napoleon's jackass army in the fucking winter."

"I'm glad you're not too cold to remember what you learned in history class."

Bucky glared at Steve. Steve let out a small laugh. Hearing Steve's laugh, Bucky's mouth curved into a smile on its own accord. Before long, the boys had dissolved into laughter despite the grave situation they found themselves in.

Steve was the first to sober up a bit. He watched Bucky with a grim smile, wondering just how he was going to get them out of Russia. He wasn't particularly worried about himself; he just had to save Bucky. Bucky couldn't suffer for Steve's mistakes.

"What if we stole a one-person plane? They're not as heavily guarded as the bigger planes and the Russians are less likely to shoot it down." Steve suggested.

Bucky looked at Steve with an amused smile. "I know you aren't great at math, but, but there's more than one of us. Unless we snuggle real close, it's going to be just you or m - no." Bucky had suddenly realized what Steve's plan entailed and seemed furious about it. "Not an option."

"Bucky," Steve tried to ration.

"No, Steve." Bucky snapped.

"We can't both make it and I'm not going to let you die out here, Buck. You've got people to go home to; you've got your mom, you've got Beast, and you've got that new girl you've been seeing, ah, Carol. Just let me do this. You can take the plane and I'll hold the crew off."

"You dipshit," Bucky snarled, "How has it never occurred to you that maybe the only person I've ever wanted to go home to is standing next to me in the middle of fucking Siberia?"

"But Buck,"

"No. We're staying together."

Steve sighed, "If you don't leave now, we're both going to die out here. We don't have any food or water."

"Great. We'll die together."

Steve glared at Bucky but decided against protesting. From the look on Bucky's face, it was clear that arguing would not do him a bit of good.

"I can't remember the last time that I was this hungry." Bucky complained just a day later.

He and Steve were propped up against a tree in the middle of the woods, both of the men clutching at their stomachs and groaning every time their stomachs growled. They had now gone roughly five days without any food. They had taken to eating the snow every once in a while, but that only satisfied their thirst. It was clear that they would not find food in the area, and without the food they needed, they would die.

"We're not going to make it much longer. Buck, are you sure that…?"

"For the last time, I am not going to eat you, Steve."

"Just offering."

Bucky snorted. "You're an idiot. Look at you, you look like shit. You'd probably taste like dirt and hair."

He was joking, of course. Steve could never look like shit; it was one of the more unfortunate things about his best friend. He always looked unfairly handsome, even when they were refugees hiding in the middle of a forest in Russia. The stubble that he didn't have the resources to shave made him look like a rugged mountain man and the hard look in his eye just added to the entire appearance. Bucky bit his tongue and forced himself to focus on the dismal landscape surrounding them.

"Yeah, well, you look great," Steve mumbled from beside him, "Actually, Bucky, if we're really going to die out here, there's something I should tell you."

Bucky's ears pricked up. He knew better than to hope for anything too serious; Steve was probably just going to come up with yet another stupid plan that would result in Bucky's safe escape and Steve's inevitable death. Either that, or he was going to say something about Peggy that would make Bucky want to die much sooner.

It should go on record that Bucky had never meant to harbor these kind of feelings for Steve. In fact, he had tried very hard not to have any type of feelings for Steve. He had tried so hard not to love him.

He had tried not to love Steve when he first met him; the idiot had licked a frozen pole on a dare and had been stuck to said pole until Bucky brought him a cup of hot water and an extra coat.

He had tried not to love Steve when they went to their fifth grade dance together; Steve had stared at a petite redhead the entire time and Bucky had been out of his mind with jealousy.

He had tried not to love Steve when they reached middle school and girls began to take an interest in the both of them; Bucky had gone on countless dates in an attempt to find a more suitable partner while Steve remained infuriatingly single.

He had tried not to love Steve when Steve's parents died within five months of each other; Steve had spent weeks at his house and had refused to sleep alone. Bucky was forced to suffer through weeks of lying next to Steve. He spent those weeks wishing that he could gather the sobbing 13 year-old up in his arms and protect him from the world's cruelty.

He had tried not to love Steve when Steve confessed that he was going to apply to S.H.I.E.L.D. High; Bucky had known that Steve would get accepted and could not bear the thought of being separated from his best friend for even an hour's time.

He had tried not to love Steve when Steve would tag along on his dates; sometimes Bucky would encourage his date to bring a friend. He liked when the girls would get so caught up in their own conversations that they forgot all about him and Steve. When the girls left them alone, it almost felt like he and Steve were on their own sort of date.

He had tried not to love Steve when Steve left for S.H.I.E.L.D. High; the stupid blond had hugged him real tight and reminded him to call often. As if Bucky could resist the temptation of talking to Steve at every available moment.

He had tried not to love Steve when he saw the way Steve looked at Peggy Carter; God, he had wished that Steve would look at him that way.

He had tried not to love Steve when Steve didn't love him; every single agonizing second of their friendship.

"B-Bucky?" Bucky couldn't tell if Steve's voice was trembling from nerves or the biting cold. He offered Steve his gloves just in case. Steve shook his head and shoved the gloves back into Bucky's hands.

"I, uh, well, I guess I might as well just say it. I didn't just ask you to come here because I didn't think that I could shut down that factory by myself. I've done missions like this all by myself for years. I was…" Steve sighed heavily, "I was selfish. I just, I thought about being out here in the middle of nowhere for a few days, maybe a few weeks…"

"Maybe forever," Bucky interjected with an almost smile.

Steve's mouth twitched slightly.

"Maybe forever…" He echoed in a borderline amused tone, "And all of the sudden it just seemed so awful; being alone, I mean. I just...I didn't want to leave you, Buck. I know it's stupid and I know you've got Carol back home, but I -"

Steve didn't get to finish his absurdly lengthy speech. He was too busy processing the fact that Bucky's lips were now on his lips and Bucky's tongue was now prodding at his tongue. Steve's eyes widened in surprise but he didn't pull away. On the contrary, he tried to pull Bucky closer despite his gloves that didn't seem to receive any kind of traction and both of their restrictively puffy winter coats.

The kiss was nothing like Bucky had dreamt it would be. It wasn't soft or sweet or gentle. It was desperate and furious and god, it was intoxicating. Bucky didn't know whether or not starvation was causing him to hallucinate and frankly, he didn't care. As far as he knew, he was kissing Steve Rogers and it was possibly the greatest moment of his entire existence. Fuck the cold and the hunger; they hardly mattered when Steve was biting at his bottom lip and trying to pull him closer still.

When Bucky's tongue ventured just a bit too far, Steve broke away with a cough and a few gasps for air. Unable to look into his best friend's wide eyes quite yet, Bucky kissed along Steve's jaw line.

"I love you," He murmured as he moved down to Steve's neck, "Fuck, I just…"

Steve shuddered; the combination of the saliva left down his jaw and neck from Bucky's mouth and the biting Russian wind was a new and not altogether unwelcome feeling.

"Love you, yeah, it's...I...when you got back from school, it was like…I knew...and...ugh..." Steve rambled to himself, the words hardly registering with Bucky. The only words that seemed to be worth a damn were "Love" and "you"; exclusively in that order. Bucky's heart felt heavy with complete adoration while his brain felt feather light with relief. Steve loved him back. He actually loved him back.

"Hm," Bucky muttered against Steve's neck, "I knew when you got your tongue frozen to that stupid pole."

"But that was ages ago," Steve remarked in a confused voice, "Weren't we only - ah!" His question evolved into a surprised exclamation as Bucky's teeth sank into his neck.

"Five, yeah," Bucky hummed, releasing Steve's skin from his teeth and kissing gently at the newly forming mark, "Ma said that you might have to get your tongue removed if you got frostbite. You have no idea how glad I am that you didn't."

"Hm, I can tell," Steve chuckled good-naturedly. He yelped when Bucky's teeth began biting at his skin again, "You sure that you're not trying to eat me?"

"I'm sure," Bucky laughed, finally removing himself from Steve's neck and sitting up a bit, "Although I should kill you for getting us stuck in this situation because you didn't have the balls to tell me how you felt while we were safe in New York."

Steve shrugged with a sheepish smile. "There were a lot of other factors…"

"Like Peggy?"

"And Carol."

"Well, maybe they can have each other."

Steve cast a dubious look in Bucky's direction. Bucky's smile faltered a bit.

"Would you have told me if we weren't gonna die?"

Steve ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Probably not."

"Coward."

"You could have told me." Steve reminded Bucky. Bucky snorted and shook his head.

"You would've shot me down."

"What? No. Why would I?"

"Well for starters, you've been in love with either Nat or Peg for the past nine years. Believe me, I've counted. Secondly, even if you weren't drooling over two gorgeous girls, you were a self-righteous prick. You would've told me that you didn't want to ruin our friendship or that you loved me too much to lose me."

"'Self-righteous prick'? When did I act self-righteous?"

"You still do, Rogers."

"Go to hell."

"I'll see you there in a few days." Bucky reminded Steve with a small smile.

Steve laughed and rolled his eyes. As he did so, something caught his attention. An adorable white rabbit was hopping through the seemingly deserted forest. Steve watched it, a small smile appearing on his face.

"Look, a rabbit! It's been ages since I've seen an animal; it kind of reminds me of the one that Darcy and Loki adopted a few years ago."

"Steve," Bucky's voice had grown low and deadly, "hand me that rock."

"Why?" Steve questioned suspiciously.

"The rock, Steve." Bucky insisted.

With some hesitation, Steve pushed the big rock sitting next to him in Bucky's direction. A few minutes later, the two men were standing over the body of a dead and no longer very white rabbit. Steve looked at Bucky sadly.

"It was a really cute rabbit." The blond sulked.

"I know," Bucky agreed as he ducked down to dress the rabbit as best he could given their circumstance, "but it was either kill it or starve." He noticed the look on Steve's face. "You don't love me anymore, do you?"

Steve rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed huff. "Buck, I've watched you throw up in my mailbox after eating too much pizza. I'm used to loving you in spite of unsettling situations."

"You loved me even back then?" Bucky asked with a small smile.

Steve shrugged. "I don't really know. It's hard to tell when it started. All I know is that I love you now."

"That's all I need to know," Bucky declared.