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

Chapter 2

It wasn't something he really discussed with himself or anyone else at the time, it just happened. The missing presence got to him, leaving him restless and lonely. So he started talking to him. Sure, he was frozen and couldn't respond, but as new memories appeared and connected with others, he needed an outlet. He wasn't close with Sam and T'Challa was already doing so much for him.

So while Steve rested in his pod, Bucky would pull up a chair and sit besides the cold glass case. Most of the time, his talk was about silly dreams or how his days were, but when he regained memories that were important to him, he would speak happily and freely. Steve was like a silent therapist really, and that was humorous to him.

Bucky did wonder if he could hear him though. Like people who were comatose. Bucky didn't hear anything over the two years, but that didn't mean he didn't hope and wish Steve could hear him.

The first memory he told Steve about, was that of connecting ones of their mothers.

"I remember my Ma, Katherine, was really pretty. With dark hair like mine, brown eyes. Pa must have had blue. Ma's eyes, geez, they were like pools of hot chocolate. You remember that, right? She'd always sprinkle little flakes of crushed nuts. I remember when we were fourteen and you started to hate peanuts, but could never say no to her, so when she turned around, ya'd scoop the froth off and dump it on mine. I probably fell in love just from that." He joked, laughing in nostalgia.

"Your mum was a gem though. Aunty Sarah. I guess I could call her my mother-in-law, couldn't I?" His laughter died down, edged with sadness. "I miss 'em. Ma must have been distraught when she found out neither her boys were comin' home." He ran a hand through his dark hair. "Loses her best friend, her husband, then her boys...I wish I could visit her. Hold a proper funeral, but she's long gone, ain't she?" Bucky sniffled, scratching his stubble as he bit his lip. "Well...Today was a good talk, Stevie. Till tomorrow." He kissed his fingertips and pressed them against the glass before he left.

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"You mentioned the Happy Clam once, didn't you, Steve? Maybe you didn't, I can't really focus on that anyway. I remembered about it last night though. I heard one of the sailors at the docks talking about it, and he slipped the password to me. Silly, right? A password for a bar...God, we could have been arrested back then. It seems to really hit me now, now that I've seen how accepting it is in the modern day, Wakanda more so, we could have been prosecuted. Simply 'cause we loved each other. It seems overdramatic, doesn't it? But it's not, cause it could have happened." He let out a loud exhale, licking his dry lips.

"I wonder if it's still around...When you wake up, we should go to Brooklyn. Disguised or not, I wanna go home for a bit." He missed Brooklyn, their adventures through the streets as kids when they ran away from feral cats and stray dogs, skirting around yelling adults and playing pranks on the asshole baker every few weeks. The giant globe was probably gone, but he'd like to walk in the park it was placed in with Steve, hand in hand like they were never able to do back then.

"I dreamed about it last night. I remember how nervous you had been, how I could feel your hand trembling in mine. I was secretly a wreak too. I was in my uniform for all to see, I was exposed, yet I kept a strong face for you. I smiled and told you no one was even looking, but I could feel the eyes just as much as you could." He took in a nervous breath.

"I was terrified of being caught, but at the same time, it was so thrilling being apart of something that was technically illegal, yet no where near illogical. It was amazing, being able to dance with you, show ya off like I would a regular gal. You have terrible rhythm, always have. I love it though. So fucking much, Stevie. Your terrible dancing meant you could only dance with me. For such a stubborn guy, ya let me lead you like you were whipped butter." He chuckled fondly at the memory. He heard the door open and he looked up to see a scientist enter. He stood.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Stevie." He kissed his fingertips once more and pressed them against the glass, walking past the scientist and out the door.

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Bucky was feeling particularly lonely today, hand pressed against the chilling glass. Goosebumps rose along his forearm.

"I wish I could hold your hand." He mumbled dejectedly. "Before the serum, you had the softest hands. Softer then any other gals. You couldn't really do much back then anyway. Too sick, too weak. Big brother Bucky was always there to back up your anger and righteousness though." He chuckled softly. "You were always drawing though, the bump on your middle finger always there with smudges of charcoal and lead. I'm sure you still draw, when you're stressed or bored. Do you still draw me, like you used to? You always made me look way handsomer then I felt I was, even if I was a cocky ladies man."

He nibbled his bottom lip. "That bump never left. I remember, before I went under. Sometimes I'd play with your fingers, and there was always that slight bump. I love it. In general, I think I just love everything about you. Even when you changed so drastically, I couldn't hate it. I'll admit, I felt a bit threatened. You didn't need me saving you anymore like when we were kids. You showed me I was still needed though. You'll always need me, as friend or as a lover." Bucky swiped his thumb over the glass for a few moments.

"I think you're the only reason I'm even alive now. I would have offed myself a long while ago if not for you, Stevie. So come back soon. Come home." He pressed a soft kiss to the pod and rested there for a bit in silence, eyes closed in thought.

2 ENDEARMENTS SPOKEN