Stucky One-shots

Wildest Dreams

Say you'll remember me...

Bucky knew that Steve had found his girl. He could see the spark in his Stevie's eyes, the way his heart beat a little faster whenever she was near, the way she stole his gaze. He leaned against the rough-hewn bar, his fingers idly tracing the condensation on his glass of whiskey. The dimly lit tavern buzzed with the energy of wartime New York City, but Bucky felt detached, lost in his thoughts. His gaze drifted back to Stevie, barely half a room away, but not even seeing him, barely looking at him. Instead, Steve stood tall and earnest, his eyes fixed on the brunette who had captured his heart.

And hell, it hurt.

Bucky had seen the way Steve looked at her, with a mixture of admiration and longing that stabbed at Bucky's heart deeper than any knife.

She was his forever girl, and he knew he should be happy for him, that he found love, but he couldn't. He couldn't stop that hatred in his heart for Peggy Carter, even though he knew he shouldn't. He had never stood a chance anyway.

Bucky missed how it was before the war when Steve was his and only his. When he traced Steve's hand with his fingers, throwing an arm around his shoulder because he couldn't care less, punching the idiots who dared to lay a finger on his Stevie. He missed Steve's head on his chest. He missed the electric touch of Steve's hand on his. He missed being the one who could make him warm on a winter night. He missed protecting Steve. He missed Steve calling him 'big guy'. And he missed that childhood nickname, Buck, that rolled off Steve's tongue so easily and lovingly. He missed how it made him feel like he was in heaven.

Because there was the sad, painful, truest truth. He was in love with Steve Rogers.

And he couldn't ignore the ache in his own heart, the longing for something he knew he could never have. He watched from the sidelines as Steve and Peggy's relationship blossomed, their love story unfolding like something out of a fairytale. And with each stolen glance and whispered word, Bucky felt himself fading into the background, his own feelings buried beneath a facade of smiles and laughter.

Hell, if he died, would Steve even remember him?

It's days like this that make Bucky wonder if Stevie was just a dream, a conjured-up angel in his head. Captain America he knows exists, the whole world knows him. But that boy from Brooklyn, born too early and too sick and too small, whose hands Bucky trusted to show his reflection more than a mirror, who wore his father's baggy clothes or Bucky's hand-me-downs everywhere, unable to afford anything more, or that boy who baked a cake for Bucky's birthday every year, whether he was sick or out of money. That boy whose smile lit up Bucky's entire day, he's not sure he even existed. A mere figment of his imagination, created to fill that hollow gap in his heart, to ease the pain of a broken boy.

Bucky swallowed hard, the bitter taste of jealousy and heartache lingering on his tongue as he watched Steve and Peggy share a laugh across the room. He gripped his glass tighter, the cool surface of the whiskey offering little solace against the turmoil raging within him. No amount of whiskey could erase the pain in his heart, the knowledge that he had lost Steve to someone else. He knew he had to let go, to move on, but the thought of a life without Steve belonging to him, and just him, was unbearable. Steve was his anchor, and without him, Bucky felt adrift, lost in a sea of loneliness.

He wanted to scream. But he knew it was futile. Steve's heart had already been claimed, and no amount of pleading or protest would change that. He couldn't blame Steve for falling for Peggy. She was everything a man could want - smart, beautiful, strong-willed. She was a perfect match for Steve, in every way that Bucky could never be. Steve deserved someone better than a sinner like him.

As the night wore on, Bucky found himself retreating further into the shadows, nursing his drink in silence while the sounds of laughter and music filled the air. His mind drifted back to simpler times. To lazy afternoons spent exploring the streets of Brooklyn, to whispered promises and shared dreams.

But those days were long gone, replaced by the harsh reality of war and loss. And in the midst of it all, Bucky couldn't help but feel as though he had lost Steve too, his best friend slipping further and further away with each passing day.

He drained the last remnants of his drink, the fiery liquid burning a path down his throat as he tried to drown out the ache in his chest. Closing his eyes, he let the memories wash over him, clinging to them like a lifeline in the stormy sea of his emotions.

When he finally opened his eyes again, he saw Steve and Peggy standing by the door, their fingers intertwined as they exchanged a tender glance.

He had a sudden thought of being at Steve and Peggy's wedding, watching their smiles, and realised he'd sooner be dead than watch Steve leave his grasp completely, the fraying line snapping off completely. He would rather die than see that in front of him, that was the truth.

He had never been good at watching Steve walk away from him.

...Say you'll see me again

Without a word, he pushed himself away from the bar and stumbled out into the cool night air, the darkness swallowing him whole as he disappeared into the shadows. He leaned against the back door of the bar and breathed a shaky breath. He couldn't compete with Peggy Carter, with her grace and beauty and unwavering devotion to Steve. And as much as it pained him to admit it, he knew he never stood a chance against her.

Bucky looked up at the starlit sky, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he watched a shooting star. It seemed like ages ago when he had felt Steve lying next to him on the grass, his fingers brushing his, stargazing, their hearts so young. He didn't believe that just three years ago he had thought that they would be okay. Growing older in the streets of Brooklyn together, eating Steve's homecooked meals after a long day at the docks, happy.

But the universe never seemed to like him.

"It's a shooting star, Buck, come on, make a wish." Steve's voice resonated in his head.

And now, he had just one wish. He'd never made a wish before, not for his father's life, not for his ma's, not for Steve's, not for his own. But he'll make a wish now. Just this once.

"Say you'll remember me, Stevie. Please. Even if it's just in your wildest dreams."

Even if it's just pretend