For Better or for Worse (Stucky)

Homecoming

Steve sunk back into his couch as he sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He looked around the dark apartment, feeling like a stranger in his own home. At least that's what he had thought it was, until three weeks ago. Just as he had settled down and had finally accepted his fate as a hero in a time he didn't belong, with everyone he knew dead, his world got turned upside down once more.

Bucky was still alive. His Bucky was still alive.
But then again, he wasn't. He had tried to kill Steve more than one time and -after failing once-, almost succeeded at it. Just to save him then. He had pulled him from that river and disappeared. He was gone, leaving no trace behind.

Steve inhaled deeply as he massaged his temple, tears slowly rising in his eyes. „Why..." He mumbled to himself, inhaling shakily and carefully stroking his finger over the healing wound on his cheekbone. He'd been out of the hospital for two weeks now and every night, after trying to distract himself all day long, the same question came back to him. „Why..." He whispered again, though he was alone with no one to listen.

He constantly had nightmares about what had happened back then, how the helicarrier burned around them as Steve desperately tried to get Bucky to recognize him. How Bucky's eyes had actually shown the tiniest sign of recognition seconds before Steve had crashed into the Potomac. How the last thing he remembered was a certain metal arm glistering beneath the water as he lost consciousness, just to wake up in a hospital, with Bucky having disappeared without a trace.

Blinking the tears from his eyes, he pushed himself off the couch and walked to his kitchen where he started to boil some water for pasta while preparing  ingredients for a sauce to have with it. Listening absentmindedly to the radio chatter in the background, he felt himself zoning in and out of focus, his mind racing between thoughts.
World War 2. Bucky fighting by his side. Bucky falling from the train. Natasha telling Steve about the Winter Soldier. Zola's spooky computer brain. Rumlow being a HYDRA agent. Bucky not recognizing him on the highway. Bucky passing out in his arms because he'd choked him. Bucky's screams of pain when he'd dislocated his shoulder. Bucky desperately denying that he knew Steve. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.

„Damn it!" Steve exclaimed quietly as he cut his finger badly, having paid no attention to the onion he'd been cutting. He let some water run though the cut and wrapped a clean cloth around it as he continued making his dinner. He knew it would heal quickly so he didn't stress about it, soon scooping the finished pasta onto his plate and putting some sauce onto it, just setting his plate down on the table as a knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts.
„What now?" He grumbled to himself as he rolled his eyes, not happy about being disturbed.
He was tired from countless short nights and hoping against all hope that tonight, his tiredness would finally get the best of him.

Sighing as he unlocked the door to his apartment, he stepped back as he opened it and -rubbing his eyes tiredly- tried not to sound too pissed. „What can I do for y-" He stopped as he lowered his hand from his eyes and his gaze fell upon the shoes of the person in front of him. Thick, black combat boots that were covered in dirt and planted firmly on the ground.
Steve's eyes slowly wandered up the body, taking in the black pants with padding over the knees and lots of loops and holsters for guns as well as knifes. The modified leather get up across the upper body with one arm removed to show the silver metal arm glinting in the dim hallway light. The gun holster was still buckled across the figures chest -which was raising and falling with uneasy breaths. Everything seemed to fit too loosely compared to three weeks ago, when Steve had last seen this.

He looked up to see his face. Bucky was right there, in front of him. The only thing that had changed was that he had a black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, his hair looked tangled and uncombed while his cheeks seemed more hollow. He obviously hadn't eaten properly, which wasn't that surprising. Steve inhaled deeply as his lips parted into an awkard stutter „B-Bucky!" He mumbled and took a step forwards, which caused the man opposite of him to take a jumpy step back, the combat boots heavy on the wooden floor.