Stucky Halloween: 2020

Party for one

This one was surprisingly difficult, story-wise. As in I'm sometimes bad with coming up with ideas.

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Steve Rogers resided in the quietness of solitude and he was okay with that. For a ten-year old, that was considerably odd; no, he was used to it because he was Steve Rogers, the sickly kid down the street who idly watched the world go by, alone.

He was Steve Rogers sitting alone at the table, nursing a cup of peppermint tea and a piece of cake, eyeing the note his mother wrote him about how her shift at work had stretched too long, how she would be home later, she promised.

When he was thirteen everything changed, because he was Steve Rogers sitting on the porch of his house and his mother was gone again, party of one, but then it was no longer a party for one -- Steve looked up to find another boy his age jogging his way, a rubber ball tucked under his arm.

"Hey," Bucky called. "You wanna join us, kid?"

Steve stared at him, hands on his knees. "I... can't," he confessed, quickly turning red because all he wanted to do was fit in; his asthma wouldn't allow him to run very well.

Bucky raised an eyebrow but smiled anyway, albeit confused. "Not a fan of sports?"

"Can't breathe right," he elaborated, and Bucky nodded in understanding. Then he moved to sit near him, rolling the ball towards the group of boys and waving them on.

Steve hesitated a second. "What are you doing?"

Bucky picked up pebbles from the ground. "You seemed lonely," he explained, a little shyly. "And you can't do sports, so... "

"Oh." Steve smiled a little. "What's your name? I'm, uh, Steve."

"James, but my friends call me Bucky." He grinned over at him, and Steve had to smile back, more genuine than before.

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He was sixteen and he was walking home, wincing as he held his bruised jaw. Bucky wasn't going to like this.

When he stepped inside Bucky was in the kitchen, painstakingly baking a cake. Steve smiled, folding his arms as he walked over.

"Steve!" Bucky whirled when he heard him approach, his smile fading to a look of concern when he sees the bruise on his face. "What happened, you trip into a brick wall?"

"Jameson and his boys," Steve sighed. Bucky paused.

"D*mn." Bucky dropped his hands to his hips, sighing. He gave Steve a look. "Well, maybe next year you'll be lucky. Get into a fight that leaves a scar, that's memorable."

"Look, they were pickin' on some kid -- "

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky dismissed, waving his hand. "On a more important note, cake."

Steve smiled dryly and rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Buck."

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Steve Rogers sat alone almost seventy years later, in his apartment. It was 2015 and he was more alone than before. Steve had gotten himself a cup of peppermint tea and a lone cupcake; in that silence with only the ticking of his watch and the echo of activity outside, his apartment has never felt smaller.

It wasn't quite the same without Bucky there, smiling at him. Bucky baking a horrible cake, tongue between his teeth as he delicately iced the burnt thing and Steve loved it anyway. Not anymore; not since Bucky was gone.

A party for one once again.

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He was Steve Rogers entering a restaurant at the ripe age of ninety-eight years old, inside the body of a man in his twenties -- whatever that difference was.

"Hi, uh, party of one? Steve Rogers?"

It was his birthday, and Bucky was... gone, still. Somewhere. Steve didn't know where he was, didn't know if he was even alive or not, knew he was out there -- yet, he was gone.

Somewhere.

The host led him to the small table in the middle of the restaurant, gently lit with a flickering candle. Once seated, Steve couldn't help but gaze every so often at the empty chair across from him.

He adjusted his seat and frowned down at the menu indecisively. Several moments passed and he was too immersed in his reading to notice that someone was making their way up to him.

Bucky walked up cautiously, metal hand hidden in his pocket. "I'd take the steak, personally," he spoke as he sat across from him, folding his hands respectably on the table. Steve jerked his head up and stared. Then his mouth fell open.

"You're back," he breathed. "How-- "

"Didn't want to miss another birthday." Bucky gave only that as explanation. He tilted his head, gaze softening. "So, happy birthday, Steve."

Steve took his hands within his own, pursed his lips. Bucky studied him, eyes gentle; he knew what he was going to say.

"Buck, I... "

"Am irrevocably in love with me?"

Steve rolled his eyes, breathless. "I... well said, Barnes."

Bucky paused only a moment before moving in swiftly, kissing him.

He got the best present that year -- Bucky Barnes vowing to always be at his side.

No longer alone, Steve grinned at him over dinner, and Bucky smiled back as he continued his wild tale of adventure.

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!! The reason I was late was because... guess who had a date 👀 Anyway I've got one more to get up today!