Marvel Oneshots

Orginal Work | Stucky | Salt Water

The POVs switch, but it works. It's a snippet of a story my friend and I are writing (hope you don't mind I posted it, babe)

Steve was staring at the body of James Buchanan Barnes.  His best friend, his buddy, his brother. The Battle of Wakanda was going so well once Thor arrived. They were tearing apart the enemy, and Steve was so sure they were going to win. Thanos would come, and the Mind Stone would be gone, Vision would be okay, and everyone would be fine. But when Thanos arrived, everyone took notice of how he had five stones. He only needed the Mind Stone, and then he'd win. Steve wouldn't let that happen. But Bucky beat him to it, running at the Titan top speed. With one hit, Bucky was on the ground, head bleeding out. Steve ran to his friend, getting there in time to see the last bit of light leave Bucky's eyes. It was horrid. Steve launched himself at Thanos, and was surprised on how long he held off the Titan's strength. Eventually, the purple raisin one, knocking down Steve onto the ground. The last thing Steve remembered seeing was Bucky's corpse.
Then a flash of green invaded Steve's vision, and he gasped air into his lungs. How was he alive, is what he first wondered. Then his mind went to Bucky. He forced his eyes open, and through gritted teeth, he crawled over to Bucky. His friend was breathing, and Steve started hugging him.
"Should've hit harder, right?" Bucky's raspy voice answered Steve's arms. Steve clung on as Bucky sat himself up, and soon enough the two men were hugging for life
"Steve?" Bucky's voice was suddenly filled with confusion, and Steve looked in shock as his friend turned to dust, leaving his arms empty.

Steve jolted awake, gripping the back of someone's shirt.
"Hey, hey, it's okay, Steve, you're okay," Bucky's voice filled his senses.  He tried to remember where he was. He was..he was in the Avengers Tower, in what's left of New York. The team was mostly okay, with the exception of Clint, who no one knew the whereabouts to. Who was gone? Peter, Tony said something about 'Guardians', T'Challa, Dr.Strange (whoever he was), Sam, and more if Steve could think right. Bucky wasn't dusted, he wasn't dusted, they were okay. "There we go, just deep breathing," Bucky said soothingly. Steve relaxed a little.
After the War, Steve and Bucky agreed to share a bed; their warmth helped when they each had night terrors. They both really knew the underlying reason why they did this, but no way in hell were they going to acknowledge it. They grew up in a time where being gay or in the LGBT+ community was more of a sin than murder, so of course they weren't going to admit this to each other. Steve sighed, letting his grip of Bucky's shirt loosen. He was okay, they weren't dead, and everything was (for the most part) okay. Even though it really wasn't okay; people were dead, suffering, and the Avengers weren't doing anything about it. Steve stopped himself from thinking anything like that for the moment; that's the last thing his mind needed.

Bucky was pretty sure he was dead. He had bum rushed a Titan, who in turn happened to be the most powerful being in the entire universe. No biggie.
As Thanos swatted him to the ground, he heard his head crack, sending his head in a way that it wasn't meant to go. His vision was quickly going black and the last thing he saw was Steve running towards him.

It was a valid assumption that he was dead. This is why it was enormously confusing when he woke up next to a twitching Steve, who he assumed was having the same dream. It was an odd thing that they had discovered about two days after their battle with the Mad Titan (or the Angry Purple Raisin, as Steve and Tony liked to call him). He and Steve would occasionally share the same dreams, and Bucky would be lying if he said that he wasn't reading into it a little. He didn't believe in the whole soulmates spiel, but there had to be something deeper than just friendship if their unconscious psyche was connected.
Another jerk from Steve jolted him into awareness.
"Hey, hey, it's okay, Steve, you're okay." Bucky laid a hand on Steve's shoulder to steady and ease him into wakefulness. Steve's eyes flickered open, wide and terrified. He looked not at Bucky, but through him, and Bucky could see the light of the battlefield reflected in Steve's eyes. He continued to spout bullshit in an attempt to calm his friend.
"Oh my...Bucky?" Steve asked in a sleep muddled voice. He reached out to touch Bucky's face, wincing as Bucky flinched away. He might have seemed to be totally okay, but Bucky was hiding layers of insecurity and issues beneath a calm bravado.
"Yeah Stevie. It's okay. I'm here, I'm not dead. He didn't dust me. I mean, we didn't exactly kick his ass, but I'm not dead," Bucky fumbled through his sentence. He had a feeling that he wrecking Steve's fragile mental state.
"Uh...I'm going to go make breakfast. Eggs or French Toast?" Steve asked, his face bright red. He pulled the sheet around his muscles chest (something that Bucky still marveled at. He supposed that he had buffed up a bit with the serum, but not nearly as much as Steve Fucking Rogers). Steve slipped out of the bed and Bucky took the opportunity to stare as Steve's ass (he was wearing sweatpants that concealed most of his figure, but Bucky would take what he could get).
"French Toast please," Bucky asked, widening his eyes to appear more innocent, or at least as innocent as an ex-assassin who might have killed Marilyn Monroe and JFK, could look. He relaxed back into the fluffy pillows, far nicer than anything they had had back in the 30's. As it always did when Bucky was left alone, his mind began to wander.
He thought back to young Peter Parker, who had dusted on the planet of Titan. He couldn't help but feel guilty. He had fought with Parker during to so-called Civil War. Bucky had stopped hitting as soon as he had heard Parker's voice, high and childish. But the kid had been so determined to do his best and impress Tony Stark. Bucky could have killed the kid if he hadn't been in the right frame of mind. In a waym it might have been a kinder fate than letting Tony Stark get attached to the kid, only to have life rip him away.
Bucky shivered at the thought, He couldn't believe that he had briefly considered killing an innocent child. If he had been born in another time, Parker might have ended up like Steve.
Bucky calmed himself by focusing on the sounds of Steve cooking in the kitchen. The occasional pan clanking and Bucky could make out a muffled curse as Steve dropped something. After about ten minutes of Steve cooking (or something approximate to cooking), Steve called Bucky into the dining room.
"French Toast, as requested." Steve held out a plate heaped high with Bucky's favorite breakfast food accompanied with a small bowl of melted Nutella.
"What would I do without you Stevie?" Bucky accepted the plate and seated himself at the dining room table. He raised his knife and fork, ready to dig in before realizing that he was missing the key ingredient to any breakfast food. He pushed back his chair and raced to the fridge in a rushed attempt to get back to his meal. Before he even reached the door, he was met with Steve's large and brawny chest.
"What the hell?" Bucky asked, looking up into Steve's cerulean eyes. His friends eyes twinkled as he held the bottle of syrup. "Oh thanks. You know me so well don't you?"
"'Course. After living with you for 15 odd years, you would expect me to have picked up a few things," Steve said. Bucky flushed bright red.
"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'm just going to go," he gestured awkwardly behind him at the plate of French Toast. "Eat that stuff... that you made... for me. Uh, yeah."
Bucks sat back down at the table and cut off a piece of the Toast. He chewed it, letting the flavors twist around in his mouth. As delicious as it was, there was a tinge of something sour, and bad reminder of days long past. Bucky worked on the bite, struggling to find out what was making the usually sweet and buttery French Toast taste so ominous. He took another bite. Immediately, panic welled up in his throat as he caught a whiff of the toast. Blueberries. Bucky resisted the urge to spit out the bite, he would never insult Steve like that. But he couldn't... he couldn't do this. It was too much. The noise, the death, Steve, the blueberries. Bucky felt tears welling up in his eyes. He turned his head so Steve wouldn't see his distress.