My Name Is Bucky

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Let's just say, the discussion did not end well. Steve and Sam we're the only ones who thought it may be dangerous to try to take a HYDRA weapon out of my brain. Well, they were the only ones that vocalized it. Natasha stayed silent the entire time. Tony and the man that never left his side, Rhodey, thought it better to stay safe than sorry. I can only recall Steve's reply which was "safer for Bucky, or safer for us?"

Steve really cared for me. I felt so bad that I couldn't help him in some way. I was starting to feel more like Bucky everyday but something still felt...off. I couldn't explain it. I sat on the makeshift bed Steve and I had Mande, lost in my thoughts.

I felt a weight next to me. Steve has plopped down, instinctively reaching for my hand. I don't know why he kept doing this. Maybe it was something from the past.

There were a few explosions in the distance. I jumped, instinctively reaching for a gun that wasn't there. Steve looked at me, figuring out that I acted this way because of PTSD.

Without explanation, he took my hand. I flinched. "No, Buck, it's okay. Do you trust me?" I stared into his eyes. His light eyes that had seen so much war yet eyes that still trusted me.

I grabbed his hand with my right one, feeling the grooves and marks he had. He lead me onto his balcony. I felt the hot breeze hit me in the face. I looked at Steve, confused as to why he brought me out here. The sky abruptly erupted with color. I gasped quietly, staring at the golds, whites, and blues that littered the sky.

"Steve, what-"

"Independence Day," he smiled. "It's become a bigger celebration since the 40s."

"You can say that again," I breathed. "Happy birthday, punk," I smiled slightly, ignoring the insane amount of pain that tore into my brain.

Steve smiled. "Thanks, Buck," the words came softly, as if he was afraid this moment wasn't real.

The sky lit up with breathtaking colors. I didn't know blue could come in so many different shades. The 'fireworks', as Steve told me, all had different patterns in how they exploded. Some sounded like a champagne bottle opening, and they fizzed out of the sky. Those were my favorites. Others shook the very earth beneath the Avengers compound. I hated these. I couldn't tell you why, but I associated them with some fuzzy memory that hurt too much to touch.

Steve smiled. "Buck," I looked at him. "Check our those ones. They're my favorite, I think."

I followed Steve's finger, which lead my gaze to just over the horizon. I caught a glimpse of small, gold and white fireworks that twirled and danced about the sky. My eyes widened. If any fireworks belonged to Steve, it would be these ones. They floated just above the tree line and disintegrated  away without a sound.

"Is this your birthday present?" I asked, genuinely curious. Perhaps he was hailed as some sort of hero that demanded all of this celebration. If so, he was truly incredible.

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "No. This is for America. I just am lucky enough to have fireworks on my birthday. It's a once in a lifetime chance."

I nodded, leaning over the guardrail and resting my arms there. I glanced at Steve. The blues and red bounced off of his face amazingly. I could see every bone and cut on his face, just illuminated by the explosions in the sky. He didn't notice. His eyes twinkled with the joy I've only seen when we were children. I gripped the handrail as my head started to pound with anger.

A figure appeared outside, wings outstretched. "Hey, Sam." Steve looked his friend up and down. "Mission?"

"You're needed, Cap," Sam replied.

Steve nodded, already grabbing his gear. I grabbed his shield for him and got ready to leap into battle with my long term partner.

Pain. Sharp, continuous pain.
I mean partner in crime.

Sam looked at me and shook his head. "Hold on, Barnes. You're not stable enough to do a mission. It's simple recon, Steve will be back in no time."

I looked back at Steve, still clutching his shield. "You'll be back? You promise?" I pictured a train situation, but this time it was Steve.

He smiled softly. "I promise, Buck. I'm not leaving you. Not again." I gave him his shield and he jumped down to the ground from where we were.

"You're an idiot!" I screamed after him. "You better wear safety gear or I swear to god-"

"Yes, Mom!" Steve called.

I couldn't help but smile. Steve was really bringing out the best in me. I closed the door of the balcony as I went inside, tying my hair up into some sort of messy bun. I changed into one of Steve's old shirts and laid in his bed, letting my thoughts roam. I felt my eyes start to flutter shut. Rather than fight it, I allowed for the much needed sleep.

I sat on top of a rock, admiring an ocean view. The waves crashed against the rocks with a gently splash, and the seagulls chirped above me. I heard the low noise of a boat in the distance.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Steve asked as he grabbed his pencil and went to work.

"I don't get how you do it," I smiled and strolled over to him. "I mean, you have this eye. This vision."

Steve smiled. "I can always give you lessons-"

"I'd never compare to the great Steve Rogers. I mean, cmon. Who ya fooling?"

He smiled. That's all I needed. After his mother got sick, he never smiled. He needed a distraction and I was the perfect one. As long as he was out of the house and wasn't there to hear the worst. That was my job. I listened to the doctors, not him. He couldn't take it.

"You take your medicine today, Stevie?" I sat down next to the smaller boy.

Steve nodded. "Buck, thank you. For everything."

I grabbed his hand. "I'm always here. Just an apartment away," I looked at the boy. Steve. A smile spread across my face. That was my Steve.

***
Outside the Avengers Compound, unknown time

"He is alone, commander. What is my course of action?"

A deep chuckle came over the communicators. "He is dangerous, soldier."

"Yes, Sir. I've read the reports."

"He is attached to this man. What is his name?"

"Steve Rogers, Sir."

"Very good, Soldier." There was a pause. "Does Steve Rogers seem like an easy mark, soldier?"

"He won't go down without a fight, Sir."

"Watch them. See their routine. These are creatures of habit. And when the moment is right, when they are at their lowest, strike. Make the asset know we do not take his unexpected leave of absence lightly. Recapture the asset. Alive, soldier."

"Yes, Sir," the man put the safety back on his gun, which was pointed at Steve Roger's bedroom window.