Originally posted by me on Tumblr.
Prompt: "I can't believe you talked me into this."

.

.

.

"We're here."

Bucky inhaled deeply at the sound of Steve's voice, taking place of the Explorer's engine and the breeze in his face. Blinking a moment, he pinched the bridge of his nose and rolled over, eyeing his friend without comment.

Steve winked at him, pulling the key from the ignition. "C'mon Buck."

Bucky grumped at him in answer, but sat up obligingly and stretched. "You going to tell me where we are yet?"

The driver's side door swung open. "Why not look to the right of you and see for yourself?"

Bucky looked, and stopped moving. He heard the crunch of gravel, the sound of footsteps around the back of the car and up to his door, but he had frozen.

The passenger's side door opened without his permission. "You coming?"

Dark eyes flicked up and glowered at him. "Steve..."

"What?"

Bucky shook his head, more to himself, turning back into the passenger's seat. "... I don't think I'm ready for this."

He could practically feel every one of Steve's positive vibes flicker out, and it made him want to punch something. But he couldn't. Not now. Not this. Damn it, Steve...

The truck rocked slightly, weight added to the passenger's side. Instead of closing the door and getting back into the driver's seat like Bucky had idly hoped, Steve had sat down on the edge of the cabin floor, between the seat and the door.

"Would it help..." Steve started, entirely serious. "-if I told you why?"

Bucky shifted over, but stayed in his spot; pulling his cap low over his eyes. "It would be a start."

"When I first woke up, Fury suggested I recoup in a safe house for about a month." Steve put his chin in one hand. "I stayed in a house not far from here; ended up wandering several of those nights. I found out about this place. Had to come see it myself."

Bucky scoffed under his breath, but not unkindly. "You would."

"I had to." Steve tilted his head to the side, visibly softening. "We're both in here."

He watched the way Bucky swallowed hard. Part of him hadn't been expecting that. The other part had already guessed.

"I... I just wanted to show you. I haven't told anyone else about coming here. Even the first time, when I came alone, I felt like you were the only one I could talk to about this."

Bucky didn't move, locked in an internal debate of violent fear. His mouth opened, then closed again.

"What... what if..." he fought to get the words out. "What if I don't deserve to be here?"

A soft sigh was his first answer.

"I love you, buddy." Steve whispered, and Bucky pulled into himself. "And so do they. I can't think of anyone more deserving, or more in need, of being here than you."

Bucky felt the truck jostle again as Steve stood back up, weight gone.

"I just want to walk over for a few minutes. You don't have to join me if you don't want to. You can wait here, okay? I'll be right back."

And that was that. Bucky listened to the sound of crunching gravel for several feet, fading further away from him, until Steve stepped into the grass he knew lay beyond the gravel and was left with nothing but the soft breeze coming in through the open car door.

He stared up at the truck's ceiling and bit back the swell of emotion. He wasn't ready for this. He didn't deserve to be here, to stand on that ground, breathe in the air. Not after everything he'd done.

Not in front of his brothers.

How his feet found gravel, he would never know. Slowly, flesh hand rubbing at the metal arm, Bucky found himself staggering toward the grass.

Because, in some odd way, it felt the most like coming home.

Steve was standing some distance out in a loose parade rest, but doing what, Bucky couldn't tell. Not until he limped up next to him a minute later, and without saying a word simply put an arm around him.

A messy laugh broke through the quiet as Steve's firm facade broke for a moment. He wrapped an arm around Bucky in return, dragged him in close with a relieved sigh.

"I can't believe you talked me into this." Bucky whispered, eyes wet, his hand fisting into Steve's blue jacket as he stared down at the two-foot cross at his feet. A name, rank, date of birth and date of death were engraved into the front, the cross white-washed like marble.

Steve knew better than to comment directly, happy only to have him there. "Walk with me?"

"Only if you don't let me go."

Lips brushed his temple. "I won't let you go."

Three feet away on either side, identical crosses with different names and dates stood with the first. They stretched in long, precise rows; covering acres and acres of remembered, honored sacrifice. And in a slow, respectful pace, they walked up and down each row. Arm-in-arm, moving as one.

For hours, they pointed out names they recognized. Saluted three of the five medal of honor recipients as they found them. Found the grave marker with the Star of David for a Jewish soldier. Bucky spotted Gabe's grave first and busted over with a suddenly remembered story about the Howling Commandos. But for the most part, they walked in silence; the weight of the air inside this place so heavy with life it seemed, when they stopped to honor a grave marker, that someone was saluting them back.

Until...

"Right here." Steve said at last, looking down at one particular white marble cross with a painfully familiar name inscribed into it. To its left stood an identical cross in every way but the inscription - different, but no less profound. Deep inside the cemetery, surrounded and guarded by so many others, two markers stood without actual coffins below them. Neither body had been recovered until the last few years.

So many impossibilities.

Instead of turning away, Bucky turned in; erasing the remaining distance between himself and Steve and didn't let go.

There weren't words. And Steve understood. They held each other, hearts far too full.

After a minute or two, Bucky stepped back again, gripping Steve's shoulder before letting him go. Looking down at the polished marble, he again read the full name etched into it, and turned to face the one it belonged to.

His back straightened. His heels clicked together. His right hand came up in a full salute.

"I hope," he finally offered, eyes tear-bright, "one day I can be considered worthy of being buried next to you."

Steve swallowed hard as he returned the salute, then stepped back in to take Bucky's face in his hands.

"Then get used to being next to me," he murmured gently, "because when we do finally give up this life, I'm not letting anyone bury me anywhere unless it's by my brother's side."

.

.

.

Xxx - Ari