Carrying A Piece Of You

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After the day at the park with Bucky, Steve started to feel sentimental. He had spent only three days with Bucky and he could instantly tell his mood was better. Steve wasn’t just living the day to day life of wake up, entertain yourself for twelve hours or go to work, come home and then go to sleep again. No. He had a reason to wake up and it was to be with his best friend.

But that wasn’t the reason Steve was up extremely early in the morning. The black and white clock on the wall said it was a quarter past two in the morning. At this hour most people would be sound asleep, having lovely dreams of impossible things. They’d be curled under their covers all warm and comfortable. Not Steve. He’d woken up nearly an hour ago in a cold sweat and with a rapidly beating heart. He’d had a horrific nightmare of Bucky and himself and their last battle. All the memories from that event had come flooding back to Steve in his sleep.

Right now, he sat at the table looking at old pictures. There were ones of them as children all the way up to them being adults. These pictures are what helped Steve keep his sanity along with all the hope. But aside from every other picture, there were two pictures he was looking particularly closer at.

One picture was of him. It was a photo from back in the 40’s when he first became Captain America and had his suit on. It was a picture of an old poster for getting men to join the army and it worked quite well. But that wasn’t the point right now.

The other picture was of Bucky in his uniform from the 1940’s, the one he wore during the Commandos Era of the war. Steve examined his own uniform and Bucky’s, noticing something he never had before.

On Bucky’s left arm of his uniform was Steve’s symbol from the sides of his helmet, the wing. On the uniform though it was a shade of yellow, not white like it was on the Captain’s helmet. He’d never noticed that Bucky had ever done that.

“Hey, why are you up this early? It’s not even three.” Bucky peered over the couch, squinting in the light of the ceiling lamp.

“Bad dream. To get over it I decided to look at some old photos.” Steve waved a few in the air.

Groggily, Bucky managed to hobble over to the kitchen table and sat across from Steve. Bucky’s eyes were only open by slits. His hair was mangled and you could clearly see which side he slept on. Bucky was lightly covered in clothes. The top being a grey t-shirt and the bottoms being loose, black, draw-string sweatpants. He crossed his arms on the table, barely managing to stay awake.

“Which ones are you looking at?” Bucky cocked his head to the side, trying to see the two pictures better.

Steve grinned at the photos in hand then slid them over to Bucky. “Do you see anything familiar?”

Catching the pictures, Bucky leaned back and examined the photos. Once a few seconds passed, Bucky’s face lit up with contentment and joy. He’d noticed the similarity and remembered it being on there too.

“The stitching on my arm, I did that.” Bucky nodded happily. “When I joined the army I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again and I didn’t bring anything with me to remember you by. All I had were my memories. But when my team and I got captured and you saved me I knew I had to do something, anything. When I got back to camp I had it stitched on, on my left arm. I did it because that way, even if I never saw you again, I’d always carry a piece of you with me.” Bucky’s hand reached over to his left, metal arm. As he did so, he also looked at the ground, smiling and trying to remember. “But, um, when Hydra found me and I woke up with the metal arm and no uniform, the other me didn’t even phase it. I didn’t even remember myself so to Hydra and I at that time, the symbol didn’t mean anything anymore…”

“Bucky, I-I never even knew you did it. I didn’t even realize it.” Steve looked at him full of regret and guilt for not knowing.

“Don’t worry. Now you do.” Bucky slid the photos back over to Steve. “Well, it’s way too early to be awake. I’m going back to bed and you should do the same.”

As Bucky walked back to the couch, Steve glanced between him and the pictures one last time before turning off the light and proceeding to bed.

But at the moment it was Bucky who couldn’t sleep. He lay there in the dark, thinking. He’d been treated like a human being and not like a caged animal. Bucky’s been given comfort and a home, not torture and pain. He’s been able to remember so much and was beginning to be like the man he used to be all because of Steve Rogers.

A/N

Yay a bonus chapter. This one is to say sorry that I haven't been updating on time.Truly sorry.

Anywho..

when I found out that Bucky had actually done that I litterally freaked. In the media there is a picture of Bucky's left arm when he was wearing hte unirform from the Commandos Era of the War. Once you see it look up the Captains helmet. It's the same symbol!!! XD Plus writting this made  it feel like a Stucky moment to me XD Oh I love this. <3

Also, my Avengers in a Chatroom is up! Go ahead a look it up.

Also if you ever want a dedication, let me know =)

Dedication goes to spideymanandloki!!!! YAY

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