Stucky One-shots

A Thousand Years

"Bucky?" Steve's voice echoed eerily as he stared at the Winter Soldier. The moment he saw those eyes, he knew. There was only one person he had ever known who had owned those beautiful steel blue eyes. How many times had he drawn those eyes? It was him. It was Bucky.

But how could Steve believe that when he had been seeing Bucky everywhere since he came out of the ice?

"Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield."

The announcement that had ricocheted through the Smithsonian museum rang in Steve's ears. He could not believe his eyes. He scrutinised the face in front of him. The only thing that had changed about James Buchanan Barnes was his hair. His hair, once short and cropped, was now shoulder-length and swayed in the wind as he turned around.

Steve searched those eyes for any sign that his best friend had recognised him. But those steel blue eyes were icy and cold, almost robotic. He remembered the twinkle in those steel blue eyes when they had gone to Stark Expo, all those years ago. He remembered the fear in them as Bucky shouted across the burning HYDRA factory. Not without you. Those words washed over him like a wave. He remembered the fire in those eyes as they attempted to take down the HYDRA train together. He remembered the hopelessness in them as Bucky held on to the side of the train, knowing that it was going to the end. Knowing that no matter what he tried to do, his time was already up. It hit Steve that perhaps the human element in the man he loved had been ripped away from him. Maybe now he was nothing more than a prop. Maybe now he was a machine. Maybe... he was no longer Bucky. Steve still refused to believe it, but his heart shattered into a million pieces at the Winter Soldier's next words.

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

*****

The night sky. A vast, endless, and unknown universe beyond the human eye. A whole new world. A universe that is waiting to be discovered. Looking up into the night sky, Steve and Bucky were welcomed by the countless stars, constellations, and the moon. To them, the starry night sky represented a time of comfort and peace.

The serenity and quietness of the nearby trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and the sound of crickets in the night. "Do you forgive yourself?" Steve questioned carefully, knowing that it might set Bucky off. Bucky just shook his head and scooted over to Steve, replying, "I never will. How can I? When I was the person behind that mask." Steve sighed and looked into Bucky's eyes. Nothing he said could convince Bucky that the Winter Soldier wasn't him. It wasn't James Buchanan Barnes. But Steve knew. Bucky was a weapon. A knife. You put the knife on a table and it doesn't do any harm. It is only when someone is holding the knife does it do damage. And HYDRA was the one holding the knife.

"What do you remember?" Steve whispered, looking into Bucky's steel blue eyes. Bucky wrapped his arms around him. Steve leaned into his touch and pressed the question again. His lover's eyes reflected the whole world above them filled with incredible wonders. "About what?" Bucky muttered, his long brunet hair swaying softly. Steve wrapped an arm around him and answered, "Anything, you know, before this." Bucky laughed and embraced Steve. He buried his face in the crook of Steve's neck.

"I remember you. Us. I remember the first time you drew me," Bucky laughed softly, "We'd just came back from Coney Island. I made you ride the Cyclone... and you. You threw up. We were sun drunk on your kitchen floor because everywhere was so warm. I remember you sitting cross-legged on the floor, sketching me." Steve smiled softly and stroked Bucky's back. Bucky's azure pools of wonder reminded Steve of Cerulean depths. Those blue eyes were as strong as the ocean, swimming with warm sun-lit currents, that had experienced so much pain.

Bucky looked up at the night sky as he sighed.

"I died everyday waiting for you," Steve whispered suddenly, breaking the silence. "When I thought you'd died, Buck, in '45..." Steve's voice broke and tears streamed down his face. Bucky's heart shattered and he gripped Steve tightly, shedding tears himself. Steve shook in Bucky's loving arms as Bucky wiped his tears away. "Hey. Stevie. I'm here," he whispered, trying to calm Steve down. "I'd loved you for a thousand years, Bucky, and I'll love you for a thousand more. The day we met, I held my breath, Bucky. Right from the start, I knew that I'd found a home for my heart," Steve said, his voice shaky.

Smiling, Bucky embraced Steve tightly. Tears flooded his vision as he stared at Steve, touched. Bucky took out his notebook and flipped to one of the pages that had been tagged with a yellow tab. He grinned at the picture on the page and gave it to Steve.

"Do you remember this?" Bucky asked softly.

The picture was dated 10th March 1941. Bucky's birthday. Steve took the notebook to see him and Bucky smiling at the camera. Bucky was more than a head taller than him and was ruffling his hair affectionally. Steve was grinning as the picture was taken, his honey-blonde hair in a mess. Bucky's chocolate brown hair, on the other hand, was neat and cropped. While Steve's suit was dirty and much too big for his small stature, Bucky's suit was tailored and clean. From just that one photo, one could see the striking differences between Bucky and Steve. "Buck, where did you get this?" Steve muttered, running his hand over the picture. Bucky replied, "I found it. At the Smithsonian. So... I took it."

Steve smiled at Bucky's reply and cuddled against him. "It belongs to you, anyways, Buck." Bucky sighed, happy to be in Steve's arms. With that, they both looked up at the magical night, full of endless possibilities.

"I've loved you for a thousand years, Stevie. And I'll love you for a thousand more."