Who Am I? » [Stucky]

6. On My Mind

A week after wandering the city he materialised at Steve's front door, giving two timid taps.

"One second!" A promising call from a familiar voice resounded inside. There was the drumming of running footsteps, closing drawers, slamming bins and creaking furniture. There was scraping as Steve twiddled with the lock and and then the door swung open. Steve stood in the doorway in a grey muscle t-shirt and baggy navy sweatpants. "Bucky," Steve wheezed breathlessly, face lighting up with a grin. "It's great to see you!” He gawped at him in shock… He had just been thinking about him, “Come in!" 

Steve couldn't contain the delight that broke out across his face. 

Bucky mentally mapped out his surroundings as he toddled suspiciously into the flat. He marked down all the entrances and exits in his mind as instinctively as a tropism. It had been wired into his DNA. 

"How've you been?" Steve tried to strike up a conversation, feeling awkward. What he really wanted to say was “hey buddy! What’s been keeping you?” “What you been occupying yourself with?” “I’ve been wondering how you were!”  But avoiding sounding creepy or invasive was a priority, he didn't want to scare him off quite yet. 

"Fine. Fine," Bucky replied, whirling back around to look at Steve, feeling just as awkward, sensing there was something the super soldier was hiding. 

"Have you been up to much?" Steve twiddled his thumbs conscientously. 

Bucky shook his head silently and stared at Steve blankly. 

"Would you like to do something?" He offered, trying to keep up the conversation like a falling balloon

Bucky nodded. 

"Uhh..." Steve hummed in thought for a bit. "I found some photos from the golden days the other evening, I could dig out those if you'd like?" He scratched the back of his neck modestly, giving a shy lopsided smile.

Bucky's big blue eyes sparkled with excitement and he smiled his agreement with a nod. 

"I'll be a moment," Steve reassured him, beaming, wandering off to his bedroom. "Feel free to get yourself comfortable," he called from the other room. 

As prompted, Bucky took a seat at the table 

Bucky, by no means was shy; he was charismatic, courageous and confident. But being around someone as important and unfamiliar as Steve silenced him like a gag had been stuffed in his gob. He hadn't exactly been a man of many words under the KGB, he spoke when spoken to by the few amount of seniors he had, and have orders to the many ranked below him when necessary. And when he spoke he was succinct. But he had never felt so nervous about talking before. 

Steve was trying to hold it together as he left the room, trying to calm himself down from the flush of anger that had spiralled out of control. It was so unlike him. He feared for the safety of others when he was so tense, but Bucky gave off a calming familiar vibe like no other.

He trundled back into the room with the small white box clapsed between his hands, and poured the cartiriges of photos out on the table. 

He took a seat opposite the soulless duplicate of his best friend.

Steve plucked a candid from the top of the pile. It was a sepia photo of Bucky, speckled with bad development splotches, and he handed it to his friend.

Bucky stared down at the image like it a stranger. It was a photo of him in uniform when he first got recruited, proudly displaying his new stripes like a preening peacock. 

“This was when I served in the militia? The American militia?" Bucky's cold blue eyes skittered between Steve and the image. 

"That's right, buddy."