Prompt (by bretttalbot on tumblr): bucky is sleeping on steve's couch, but suddenly steve invites him to his bed for whatever reason, pre or post-serum, pre or post-winter soldier.

THE PAST: 1937

"James, please know that this can only be a temporary solution, but... for now, I'd like to offer you a place to stay. Until you can find someone else to take you in. After … what has happened, you should not find yourself alone."

Bucky knew this was generous, much more generous than what anyone else would offer him. It was more than he deserved, anyhow, and he knew that if this was anyone else, not compassionate Sarah Rogers, this offer wouldn't have been made, per se. And still, he found himself cringing ever so slightly as she said it. 'What has happened'...
She meant well, of course, but Bucky hated it. How they all tiptoed around the issue. So what, he was an orphan now. Wasn't like his father had ever been around before, too busy thinking that the camp, the training could be his big opportunity.
To Bucky, the idea of a war seemed more like impending doom, but who would ever think of asking a kid like himself about those issues. He had an inkling that that was gonna be his destiny; with nowhere left to go, he'd eventually need to seek shelter at Camp Lehigh, thus having to join the damn war for good. And Bucky had no doubts there would be a war, and soon. Just peachy.

But for now, and Bucky liked himself some good ol' oblivion when facing the veil of destruction that the war would without a doubt bring once it had properly started. And crashing at his best friend's place was good enough of a distraction for this teen seeking some peace and quiet. After putting his belongings – a single tote sack and a rucksack, nothing more – neatly out of the way, he laid himself on the bed set just for him; it was the old sofa that Sarah had once bought second-hand, shortly before Joseph Roger's death.
After Steve's father died, the single mother had to pinch and scrape due to the Great Depression, and Steve once told Bucky he couldn't really remember if they ever bought something moderately expensive again since then. One time, Bucky had put money aside just to be able to buy Steve proper drawing utensils which neither Sarah nor Steve could have afforded otherwise. Steve's blinding grin was worth every penny and exertion he had invested.

Sarah sent him one last nervous smile – he replied in kind, giving her a smile with dimples and all, the one he knew the parents appreciated – which seemed to reassure her enough to wish him a good night's sleep, before she kissed her son good night and excused herself, as she had to raise early for work the next morning. Bucky also have Steve a tight smile, before slipping under the thin blanket (too thin to find any sleep tonight, Bucky calculated, not that he'd been planning on sleeping much – insomnia usually caught up to him easily) with a small sigh.
He could literally feel Steve lurking by his bedroom door, until Bucky said, "Come one, catch some sleep, I'm good."

He wasn't, not really, but Steve needn't know that.
Steve, and his scrawny butt, deserved some sleep. His best friend was sickly enough as it was, Bucky didn't want to be as fault for depriving him of sleep as well. It's almost hilarious, in a way, that Bucky had thought anyone could make stubborn Steve do anything he didn't want to, though. While it was a little annoying at times, that was also Bucky's favourite thing about Steve: despite being a sickly kid, he was a confident sassy little shit who wouldn't take crap from anyone. It would be admirable, if Bucky wasn't the one on the receiving end.

"Yes. You're good. Nice. You think I'm believing that? Buck, I can hear you thinking over here. And I bet it's not the nice kind of thinking either." Steve insisted, and Bucky didn't need to turn around to see his emotive expression; the concern mingling with stubbornness as well as minor frustration.

"Well, it's been a long day, smart ass," Which was, in itself, true enough, Bucky thought. Reluctantly, he finally rolled over to look at Steve. "So what?"

Steve raised an eyebrow at him, sighing exasperatedly. "You can be dense, at times. I obviously won't let you be alone with your thoughts. Come on, grab the blanket and follow me."

With that, Steve headed towards his room, and went inside. Not even looking back to see whether Bucky would follow, the smug bastard. Bucky grumbled, following Steve with the blanket in hand.

No matter how dismayed he might have acted, though, Bucky very much found himself content as he was spooned by scrawny Steve. It was probably a ridiculous picture, not unlike a dwarf spooning a giant, but Bucky just felt … save within these arms, and it didn't matter much to him that realistically those arms couldn't protect him in any physical sense. Bucky didn't need that kind of strength in a friend anyway, he could protect himself just fine; what he needed was emotional support. And damn if Steve couldn't provide that. Steve could make Bucky feel treasured and loved like nobody's business, hands down. And if Bucky snuggled just too much closer to be entirely proper, well, neither of them mentioned it in the morning.

THE PAST: 1941

It would be funny, if it wasn't so fucking sad, how Steve and Bucky only ever had opportunities to be close to one another when they were in deep shit. A lot of things in his life would be funny, Bucky couldn't help but think, if his life wasn't such a train wreck, actually.

Granted, Bucky might have become both resentful and bitter these past months, but who wouldn't when a war was hot on their heels. He knew it was only a matter of time until he would also join the troops –- and without his best friend, since no person in their right mind would recruit someone like Steve. Steve had all the mental assets a good soldier would need (except maybe the ability to be obedient and submissive, which was pretty much nonexistent within a stubborn guy such as Steve, god bless him), but he'd probably flunk all the physical exams. While Bucky wasn't so big on submission and obedience, easier, he would probably adjust better: join, work his way up as best as he could, try not to die.

It was where he was headed, anyway, now that Sarah had died. Steve had no one else to support him without his mother, and the medication he needed would cost a mean price whether Steve could pay or not. There wasn't much compassion and pity going on during war times, Bucky knew. And soldier earned more than your average labourer when one took into account that Bucky never had the opportunity to learn a proper profession and had little to offer save for his physical strength.
Steve probably knew, also. But they didn't talk about it, not really, not yet. America hadn't even had a reason to join the war yet, though Bucky knew this was but a matter of time. Give them a few months, he thought bitterly, and then it's a suicide mission to join the army – and there I'll be, fighting for my life to save a scrawny kid's ass. Surprisingly enough, he wasn't to bitter about that aspect.
He didn't see much sense in dying for his country.
Dying for Steve's sake, however, was something he could see himself pulling off.

With a sigh, Bucky opened his eyes. The room was dark, cold and awfully familiar. It would probably have been better for Steve to move out of the flat after Sarah's death, but it was one of the cheapest ones in Brooklyn, and they wouldn't find an affordable one that was as nice, not by a long shot, so that was out of question. He figured his presence as a caring buddy had to be enough, since there was nowhere else to go. The sofa was still as uncomfortable as ever, which made him nostalgic in a strange way. Life had been shit, even four years ago, as it always would have to be, he supposed, for a piss poor orphan. But lo and behold, it was even shittier now.
Oh joy.

"Buck. Are you awake?" Steve whispered, as if willing to let Bucky rest in peace and quiet, giving him an easy out. He did it on purpose, Bucky knew, because Steve was so damn considerate when it came to another person's feelings.

But Bucky wasn't backing down from the challenge that being a good best friend could be, no matter how emotionally stunted he usually would prove to be.

"Yeah, I can't really sleep. And neither can you, apparently. Wanna talk?" Bucky asked, voice barely above a whisper as he stood up and tried to find his way to where Steve's voice was coming from, which wasn't so easy with just barely enough moonlight streaming through the window to see anything at all.

"No," Steve replied calmly as Bucky finally had managed to come to a halt in front of him. "I'd really rather we didn't, not today."

"Okay? You gotta know what's best for you, I guess." Which still didn't so much explain what Steve purpose had been, then. Steve could probably feel the confusion radiating off of Steve.

"My room is pretty cold, Buck. It feels empty. Awful. Lonely."

And Bucky understood, and diligently followed Steve inside, cuddled up to him without complaining, and was glad to be the one holding his best friend together this time.

"Better?"

"Infinitely. Thanks, Buck. Not just for the cuddling, but for staying with me." Steve sounded so sincere, so trusting, so sure of the bond that they shared that Bucky wanted to hold him like this, in the safety of the room, until this war was over.

"You know it, pal. With you 'til the end of the line."

THE PAST: 1944

Christmas time was probably the only thing (besides Steve) that Bucky still found himself to be enthusing about.
There was something magical about the way that, despite being in the midst of a war, people would just lay their arms aside to have fun, to live life for a few days. People who knew Bucky inside out (Steve) knew that Bucky was one worn-out, depressed shit ever since joining the army who only had one soft spot (guess for whom).

People who knew only the image Bucky tried to convey would describe him as a cocky guy who knew how to have fun.

Ironically, he only ever went to all these organised 'take pity on a soldier, pretend to find him hot and motivate him to keep fighting for our country' balls because Steve insisted Bucky needed to have fun. Steve usually had a handy excuse not to go, the dickhead.

Which was why Bucky was downright delighted when he spotted the tall blond amongst the crowd. (And no, he hadn't gotten used to it yet. Fucking mutated giant.)

"Captain, what a pleasure to see you." He greeted, voice void of any particular inflection. When Steve turned around, raising one eyebrow at him, Bucky couldn't help grinning though.

"As you know, Sergeant, I am always good for a surprise."

"A delightful one at that." Bucky quipped with a short wink. He turned to fetch Steve a drink, missing the blush that dusted Steve's cheeks, an the way Steve ducked his head, smiling.

Both of them thoroughly enjoyed the evening, each of them dancing with young dames respectively, but in the end sitting with each other, talking and drinking for the better part of the night until they headed to their barracks.

Steve wasn't entirely sure if it was his courage finally speaking, or the booze he had consumed at the party, but for the first time since he realised the depth of his feelings for Bucky (which had been shortly after the death of his mother, when Bucky practically moved in with him and it became too difficult to ignore the way his heart seemed to try to jump out of his chest whenever Bucky smiled at him, not to mention held him in his arms), he dared to ask of him what had always been so easy when they were kids.

"Buck. Do you wanna come back to my room?"

Bucky, probably because of all the booze he had had that evening, didn't even process that statement as weird whatsoever.

"Sure. Lead the way, Cap."

Cuddling with Bucky was comfortable, as it always had been, despite his heart beating erratically, fluttering like a hummingbird's wings. Steve had to giggle at the thought.

"What's so funny?" Bucky mumbled, amused, as he burrowed his nose in the crook of Steve's neck sleepily.

"Just. Hummingbirds, they're weird."

And it didn't make much sense, to either of them, but they laughed like little kids on a sugar high. After a few minutes, they finally could control their hysterical snorts and giggles, and Steve sighed contentedly.

"I've missed this." He admitted in a whisper, feeling Bucky shift backwards a little to raise his chin and look at Steve.

"So did I. Maybe we should never have stopped." Bucky replied in a hushed whisper, blushing with both alcohol and a coyness that was usually foreign to him.

"Maybe." Steve agreed, staring into Bucky's eyes.
It felt like drowning, but in a strangely good way, and Steve wasn't even sure whether he could escape those eyes if he wanted to.

"Yeah." Bucky mumbled, staring right back, before tilting his chin up even more and kissing Steve square on the mouth. It was a chaste kiss.

After gasping in shock, Steve could feel his entire face redden.

"Buck." He whispered reverently, trying to lean in again, but Bucky shook his head.

"We'll do that again when you're less drunk, pal. I'm not one to go for dubious consent. Let's sleep for now."

Steve was too tired to argue this any further, and he drifted off to sleep with a content smile on his face.

TODAY

It was more than gratifying to have Bucky here, at home, where he belongs.
In Brooklyn.
With Steve.

They weren't quite there yet, Steve knew, and Bucky still had nightmares.
But there was progress, there was Bucky remembering the time they accidentally abducted a cat, Bucky remembering Coney Island, Bucky remembering their last Christmas together, in 1944.

Bucky remembering the kiss, remembering the time after, the glances, the touches, the hushed 'I love you's.

Their path hadn't been an easy one, but then again, when was love ever easy to come by? So what if their past had been the price they had to pay to now have the rest of their lives together?

Steve would do it all again, he knew with certainty, if it meant waking up to Bucky every morning, if it meant seeing Bucky argue with their cat, Freedom, about the news at 8am (Yes, he'd named it Freedom just so he could laugh his ass off whenever the cat strayed off and Captain America ended up roaming the streets, 'looking for freedom'. Bucky had lousy humour.), if it meant going on dates with Bucky, if it meant getting to see Bucky smile and laugh and grin, if it meant cuddling up to Bucky and going to sleep (or doing … other things) with him.

Steve Rogers might have been called a sap for the way he would gaze longingly at his boyfriend (Shut up, Tony, that's love right there, okay.), but he honestly couldn't find it in himself to care since he was simply so happy to have the love of his life with him now, 'til the end of the line.

And yes, maybe he shed a few manly tears, when his Bucky got down on one knee, ring in hand.

"I heard we can legally be an old married couple now, what do you say?"