I've Loved You A Hundred Years (I'll Wait For A Hundred More) [STUCKY]

Chapter 1

A/N: Question for my readers- I'm thinking of which picture I should have for the cover page of this book, the original with Bucky alone and the American flag, or the one above? Comment which you prefer!

When his frozen lungs were exposed to the warm jungle air, it was like a shock of adrenaline in his veins and punch to the flutter of his gut. His crusted, icy lashes opened after a few minutes of consciousness behind his eyelids.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mister Barnes." T'Challa's voice was something common to grasp onto, but his mind nagged at him about where Steve was. He promised he would be there, so where was he?

"Steve...?" His voice was rough from lack of usage for who knows how long. T'Challa didn't look that much older then when he last saw him, so he figured he wasn't gone longer then five years.

"I will explain in just a moment, Mister Barnes. Come, we must warm you up." His hand was offered to him, and with only a few moment hesitantion, he took it and stepped out of the pod with a creak of his cold joints. Warmth of a blanket enveloped him and he held the ends in one fist.

"Good to have you back, Frosty." The voice was light with teasing and underlying concern, but he could connect it to Sam. Steve must have been successful with helping them out of the prison.

"Birdbrain." He mumbled half-heartedly, eyes looking around the too-bright room. Men and women in white coats were walking around, some surrounding a control pad and a pod- wait, a pod? "Where's Steve?" His voice was raising with panic and T'Challa's hand on his head was attempting to sooth.

"You have just awoken, Barnes. You must sit and warm up before I explain. Shuri?" Bucky sat on the examination table with the help of Sam, a woman in a fashionable pencil skirt, loose yellow shirt and white heels came up to them, passing Bucky a cup. The heat was almost burning again his cold palms, but it felt nice. "Thank you, sister dear."

"Thanks, Shu..."

"Shuri." She completed for his lagginess.

"Shuri." He smiled shakily, sipping the steaming beverage. He would normally complain about the burning liquid, but he was parched, and if the army taught him anything, you didn't turn down hot drinks.

His eyes widened slightly at that thought. He had known he was a Sergeant, that he'd been in the army, but he didn't actually remember much about his time there before. He could remember the cold mornings of fog though, cradling a hot, beat-up mug in both hands. Trying to absorb to warmth into his chilly fingertips. The fog used to be quite pretty actually...

"You in there, Frostbite?" Sam's voice brought him back to reality and Bucky nodded before his lips could even work with words.

"Steve?" He wanted to see Steve. "Where is he?"

"Steven...Is in a difficult state right now, Barnes." T'Challa said tightly, obviously looking for the right words to explain, but Bucky had heard enough.

"Is he dead?" The words spilled from his lips like liquor down a soldiers throat.

"No. He's been put in cryogenic pod. He's been in there for a few months now."

"How long was I out? What happened to Steve? Why can't he come out?" Bucky wanted to be angry at Steve for not sticking to his word, but there was more important things to worry about now.

"You've been under for two years now, man." Sam shook his head with a sigh. "Quite a bit. You missed a lot."

"Like, HYDRA- a lot, or aliens- a lot?"

"Like, gods a lot. Vision's dead, so's...Wanda. She was able to save us, but...She had to sacrifice herself in return for restoring reality when Thanos, big bad God, almost killed us all." Sam said with a strain in his voice. The wound must have still been fresh for him. "Kid did good though. Saved our asses, saved our world matter-of-fact."

"I'm sorry...I can't believe I slept through that." Bucky frowned. "What happened to Steve then?"

"I can explain that one. Go rest, Samuel, you're jet-lagged and your mother expects a call." T'Challa said with tenderness that Bucky chose to ignore.

"Yeah, okay...I'll come by some time later." Sam left with that. Bucky looked at T'Challa with an inquisitive expression.

"Steven was attacked not long after Thanos' attack, or the 'Infinity Wars' as civilians like to call it. He was shot in the chest by an unknown sniper, and the bullet, though removed, infected him. We can't put a specific diagnosis on him, but he's been poisoned. Luckily, he was only just outside our borders of Wakanda when it happened, so we were able to rush him into a extra pod we had made incase yours broke down over time." T'Challa explained, his lips etched in a soft frown.

"I see...So, when can he come out?" Bucky sipped his drink, hot chocolate he had identified it as.

"Until we can neutralise the poison or extract it. Until then, he is under the watch of Wakanda and their King. No harm will come to him, Barnes, I give you my royal word." T'Challa vowed, making Bucky smile.

"Thank you, your highness. You're doing so much for us, I feel like we'll never be able to repay you."

"Steven is my friend and Samuel, my partner. I only wish to help my people and fellow warriors. I consider you a friend by correlation, Mister Barnes."

"Then call me Bucky, I know you can." Bucky chuckled softly.

"Indeed I can, Bucky." T'Challa smiled lightly.

"...Can I see Steve? Sit by his pod for a bit?"

"Of course." T'Challa let Bucky try and stand on his own first before helping him stand upright and leading him over to the frosted pod. Bucky looked upon Steve's face curiously, surprised at the differences he could see. He didn't think he'd ever see Steve with a beard, but he'd admit, it didn't look bad.

'Prefer my men clean shaven, but of course Steve could change that.' He thought fondly, unaware of his affectionate smile or gaze on Steve's iced body. Bucky stepped closer, wishing to reach out and touch the cool glass, but his cup occupied his flesh hand, and he didn't want to let go of its warmth.

"We seem to be running in circles, don't we, Stevie?" He said in bitter amusement as he stared upon his lovers resting features.

1 ENDEARMENT SPOKEN