#imagine retaining most of your memories but still having the instinct to eat hearts

[kh-hyperfixation-blog]

I want it....

[otome0heart]

Hi! I wish you a very happy birthday if May 29th has already arrived in your timezone! 🎉🎉🎉 . How wonderful it is to share a birthday with Mitsuhide! 😊I was wondering if I could request anything you want to write at all with the man, any prompt of your choice. It would be nice to see it set in the Sengoku period, but modern AU is fine as well! Thank you so much for opening requests!

Hello! ^^ I already exchanged messages with you but, once again, I’d like to thank you for your good birthday wishes. It���s truly a great thing, since I never shared a birthday with a character I liked/loved before.

Also, thanks for requesting something from me, it’s an honour since you write so much and so well. As you stated in your preferences, I set it in the Sengoku Period, and I chose the prompt “Master Marksman”, as it’s specified in Mitsuhide’s profile. I sincerely hope that you like it *^^*

Title: Trust

Characters: Mitsuhide/MC

Words: 5070 (ups, I did it again… and longer)

Notes: I hope there aren’t big mistakes and that Mitsuhide is IC, since he goes under a few changes in this story. Apart from @otonymous, I’m tagging @han-pan, a passionate Mitsuhide-lover like us :)

TRUST

The young woman made her way through the forest carefully. She was looking down as she walked to avoid tripping on a tree root or a fallen branch while she carried a parcel wrapped in a purple and white patterned cloth. She held it tightly with both hands, fearing that she could drop it with the smallest stumble and she knew she would never forgive herself if that happened.

However, that did not prevent her to enjoy the walk. It was a beautiful spring morning and the forest seemed to be alive as the birds chirped happily, playing with each other among the foliage, and the soft warm breeze blew past her from time to time, bringing her the fresh smell of leaves and flowers which grew in the most hidden places of the wood. She loved that season, not only because the the world around her seemed vibrant with life and colour, but also because it was the time of the year when the man she loved had been born into the world.

A soft blush dusted her cheeks as memories of him crossed her mind: his soft smile as he regarded her, the respectful way he had talked and behaved with her since the beginning, when she was nothing more than a frightened girl dressed as a boy in a world of men and war, a poison taster whose life and presence was completely worthless and disposable; his kindness and warmth which were like a balm to her soul in the darkest hours.

She still could not believe that that wonderful, admirable man so above her in all aspects returned her feelings. Sometimes, when she opened her eyes at dawn, she imagined it to be a marvellous dream she wished she had never woken up from, but then, his smile as he wished her good morning, the warmth in his eyes as they talked during a short break or his lips as he kissed her gently behind a hidden corner as they passed by in a deserted corridor, told her that it was all true and that Akechi Mitsuhide, right hand of Oda Nobunaga, had given her his heart and sworn to love only her.

Her foot slipped and she grabbed the trunk of the nearest tree to avoid falling. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, berating herself for daydreaming. It was not a habit of hers, as she was always too busy to entertain fantasies but lately, she had caught herself doing it once in a while. She supposed it was one of the side-effects of being in love and did not give it much importance, but if it was going to be the cause of ruining her plans… Once her heartbeat had calmed down and she felt secure, she started her way again, this time promising herself to focus on the path without straying from her rational thoughts or her search.

That morning, on her way to Lord Nobunaga’s chambers carrying a tray with some cups of tea, she had met Lord Hideyoshi, who had informed her that the ruler of Owari Castle had vanished from his room, leaving a note behind giving most of his advisors the day-off. Upon seeing her astonished face, he had laughed, telling her that it happened from time to time and that nobody knew where he went or what he did, but he usually returned late in the evening and the following day, thing in the castle kept on working the same as always, as if his absence had never happened. And, he had added as he took the tray from her hands, that meant that she had some free time too.

Imagining that Lord Mitsuhide had to be frantic looking for his liege lord, she had headed for his residence to see if she could be of any assistance to him. However, when she had arrived, she had been surprised when one of the servants had told her that he was away too. After receiving news of his forced break, and with a resigned expression, he had mounted his favourite horse and had gone to the usual field near the river. And it had been then that she had had the idea of looking for him and spend some time together, as they barely had seen each other since, after his brother-in-law’s betrayal and Mitsuhide’s disobedience because of her, Lord Nobunaga had been giving his right-hand retainer diplomatic missions and asking for strategies and plans to prevent such situation happening again. Despite his love for work, she supposed that deep inside, he was glad to have a few hours for himself.

Sudden doubts had filled her mind, as she realised that he might have wanted to be alone, since he had not gone to look for her when he had heard the news, and for a moment, she considered going back to the castle and occupy herself with a new recipe or mending some clothes that surely anyone would definitely need to have sewn. However, she changed her mind again when the servant commented that he had not brought anything to eat with him and that that probably meant that he would be back at lunchtime. Knowing him as well as she did, he would probably forget about it. So, after borrowing the kitchen to prepare his favourite food, she had made her way to the meadow.

Soon, she had understood her mistake when she found that there were several clearings along the river and she had forgotten to ask for the exact location of the one Mitsuhide had gone to. She had already been in two fields but there had been no trace of his presence in any of them. A farmer she had encountered on her way back from the second, had indicated her a third one, a very wide open space quite far away from the busy roads.

The sound of a shot startled her, taking her out of her thoughts, and the young woman crouched down instinctively, almost dropping her precious bundle. It echoed through the trees, frightening the birds, which flew away in a haste. However, no other sound followed it. No steps, no shouting, not even the falling of a bird fulminated by a bullet. After a few more seconds, she dared to lift her head, buried in her knees and hidden under her arm, just a bit, enough to survey her surroundings and make sure that no infiltrated enemy was approaching her.

Some more time passed before she felt it was safe to stand up. She did it slowly, using the trunk of a tree as support and at the same time, as a shield, just in case the sniper was waiting for her to make a mistake. She took a step, still alert, toward the trees on her left, concealing her presence among the bushes to have the opportunity to hide or escape if the situation became dangerous.

After walking a while more, the babbling of the river reached her ears and seconds later, she saw the sunlight filtering through the gaps in the trunks, indicating that the field was near, and she found herself praying that her lord was there so he could chase away her fear as her steps became almost a run.

As she reached the edge of the clearing, a second shot broke the stillness of the forest once again, this time so loud, so powerful, that she could not help a cry of fear as she fell on her knees, covering her ears and dropping her parcel this time, trembling violently. She felt terror of those weapons after having been a witness of a feral battle a little after she had come to serve Lord Nobunaga. The only idea that they could severe a man’s life with only the little pull of a finger was truly horrifying. And even though she had been living in Owari for months, she still had not got used to them. A tear run down her face and unconsciously, she called for her lover in a whimper.

However, as before, nobody came to threaten or abduct her. Only silence followed the shooting and finally, she convinced herself to look up. And then, she saw him.

Mitsuhide was in the middle of the clearing, his posture straight, his eyes fixed in something ahead of him. In his hands, he had a musket from which smoke still came out, and suddenly, she understood that he was the one firing. A sensation akin to relief filled her heart, seeing that the illusion of an unknown enemy trying to kill her had been made up by her wild imagination. She sniffled and then, put her hands on the ground to help herself into an standing position. Her knees still trembled, refusing to support her, so she had to sit down on a log she found a few steps further.

From her position, she could see that he had frowned and his lips were pressed in a clear gesture of dissatisfaction as he put the butt of his weapon on the ground, and she wondered the reason. Hundreds of times she had heard in the tales of battle that the men told in the Main Hall, that Mitsuhide was an excellent marksman and that many of them were alive because of his expertise. It was impossible to believe that he was not as good as their praises said, or that he was disappointed even with perfection.

She watched his smooth and fluid movements as he reloaded the musket and, as soon as he took his position, she closed her eyes tightly, covering her ears. Even though she had expected it this time, she jumped when the deafening noise filled the air again. This time, the breeze brought the penetrating acrid smell of gunpowder to her nostrils and she made a disgusted expression. As the echo vanished, slowly, she opened her lids. He had lowered his arms and they hung in front of him, still holding the musket and looking at what it seemed like a kind of target attached to a tree at the other side of the field. The serious expression from before marred again his noble features and he started walking towards the spot he was aiming at.

Despite her distress, she could not help feeling a deep respect towards him. Instead of making the most of his day-off and rest as much as possible, he had devoted himself to improve his skills and keep on serving in one or other way the man he admired and followed so he could obtain Divine Rule as soon as possible. Her heart felt heavy with guilt at having been filled with dreams of love and selfish wishes of having him for herself, at least for a few hours.

The girl lowered her head, her gaze falling on the parcel containing the ruined onigiri she had made for him and sighed. She had been so stupid… She should have imagined why he had not gone to see her that morning. She had known since the beginning that he had devoted his life to the Oda clan, and she had fallen in love knowing that he would die for his liege lord and, even though she did not doubt of his affection toward her, that for him, Lord Nobunaga would always be first. She had already put him between a rock and a hard place once, when she had gone to see Lady Oichi and he had to decide if he was going to follow orders or his heart. She would not do it again.

Frowning deeply, she knelt on the floor and, carefully, she picked up the box, smoothing the cloth as best as she could, and then, stood up. Stealing a last glance at him, who was verifying his shots, she turned to go.

.

Mitsuhide furrowed his brows as he inspected the holes the bullets had left in the target. Two out of the three were slightly deflected to the left and that worried him. His aim had always been impeccable since he had learnt how to use those European weapons and the fact that it was not being as accurate as always troubled him. He knew his heart was in a turmoil of feelings that day but also, that he should not let them affect him when his comrades’ lives were at stake. If it was happening, then that meant that he was not as strong as he thought.

Breathing deeply and squaring his shoulders, he turned to go back to his position in the centre of the clearing when a silhouette he knew too well, outlined by a line of trees, took a step away, and his heart leapt in his chest. What was she doing there, so far from Owari?

Before he knew it, he had already called her name, his voice bewildered, and she came to a halt. He started to walk to her with brisk quick steps, worried that they had sent her to find him because something had happened in the castle, or to Lord Nobunaga, who had decided to wander away that day. What if he had got injured or… He swallowed hard, feeling sudden guilt fill his heart, and had to shake his head to dispel those negative thoughts. Everything was fine, it had to be.

As he approached her, she looked at him over her shoulder, her face pale and her beautiful eyes troubled.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in what he noticed was a taut voice, giving away his nervousness.

She opened her mouth to answer but then, she closed it again, inadvertently lowering her eyes. What was she going to tell him? That she had wanted to spend some time alone with him when she should have been thinking about a superior goal? Her cheeks turned red with shame.

Mitsuhide frowned, taking in her appearance, her rumpled kimono, stained in the lower part, and her disheveled hair, some strands hanging loosely from the ribbon which tied them, and immediately, all type of fearful thoughts crossed his mind.

“Are you alright?”

To her mortification, her eyes misted and his eyes shone with worry.

“Did you hurt yourself? Did someone-?”

She lifted her head with widened eyes at his words, seeing his anxious expression, and she shook her head.

“N-No… Don’t worry” she sniffled a bit and then straightened her posture, trying to show him a smile. “I’m fine.”

However, the hesitant line that appeared on her lips did nothing to calm him. It was obvious that something had happened to her and it pained him not to know it, but even more her apparent lack of trust in him. Was he so unreliable to soothe her suffering, whatever had caused it?

“Are you sure?” he asked again, cupping her cheek and brushing away a smear of dirt.

“Yes” she closed her eyes briefly leaning into his touch, feeling at ease with just that soft caress.

“Did something happen in the castle? Is that why you’re here?” he took her by the shoulders, looking intently into her pupils. “”Is Lord Nobunaga…?

“No, everybody is fine, and when I went out, he still hadn’t returned” she was glad to notice that her voice was now steadier.

Finally, he let out the breath he did not know he was holding and allowed himself to relax. Taking a step forward, he took her into her arms and leant his cheek on her head. For a moment, he had felt such fear of having failed his lord, of her being hurt in any way… But feeling her warmth through their clothes confirmed him that everything was alright, that her presence was all he needed to dismiss his concerns.

It was then that he noticed that she had stiffened in his embrace, which she did not return, and was about to ask her when he also became aware of something hard between them and he recalled that she carried a parcel. He parted from her and smiled.

“And, what are you doing here?” he repeated his question, this time feeling more relaxed.

She bit her lip and he frowned, feeling uneasy again.

“I was just having a stroll, since today we got a day-off unexpectedly” she finally decided to speak, trying to look and sound as convincing as possible to avoid worrying him again.

However, opposite to what she expected, Mitsuhide’s expression became even more serious.

“Really?” his voice was tight, showing that he knew she was lying, and her heart beat painfully in her chest. “So far from Owari?”

“I-I was thinking… and I wandered away without noticing…”

There had to be a reason why she was doing that, he told himself swallowing hard upon hearing her new falsehood. She had always been sincere since the time they had met, even when she was dressed as a boy, trying to fool everybody. Her feelings had always overcome her façade, saying what was in her mind or in her heart without caring who was in front of her.

“And” he tried again, pointing at the bundle in her arms. “What’s that?”

She tightened her grip on the box.

“I brought some food in case I became hungry”

“It seems very big for only one person…” he looked at her. “Maybe you could share something with me? The sun is very high, I had an early breakfast and the exercise has whetted my appetite.”

An expression of dismay appeared on her face, and he knew he had cornered her again.

“I ate it all” he furrowed his brows as the first sparks of anger ignited inside him. “Look, it seems that my arrival here bothered you so I’ll be going now, alright?”

She smiled at him as she turned, but he took her by the arm, the movement shocking her, not by his strength, as he kept it in check and his grip was gentle, but because it was the first time he had done it. Taking the box from her arms, which was surprisingly easy, probably because of her bewilderment, he put it on the ground with his musket. Then, he looked into her eyes as he held her hands.

“Please, stop…”

He leant forward and touched her forehead with his, his expression and his voice pained, and her heart twisted painfully in her chest.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he saw hesitancy in her eyes and pressed. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I do” the rushed statement, said in a desperate voice, eased his heart a bit. “But…”

He lifted a brown, his warm eyes encouraging her to continue.

“But I don’t want to be a nuisance to you…”

He seemed taken aback by he words, staring at her, incredulity painted all over his face. Seconds passed by as he kept silent, trying to find the reason why she thought like that. She would never ever be nothing but a blessing for him. She had filled his life with joy and laughter, she had become the reason why he wanted to be a better man, worthy of her love; to return alive from the many battles that he fought because the thought of her being sad was just unbearable.

“Did I do something to make you think like that?” he asked in a quiet voice, a sick feeling gripping his stomach.

She shook her head lightly.

“I-I just-” she tightened her grasp in his hands, pausing for a moment to order her thoughts. “When I heard about Lord Nobunaga leaving, I looked for you to see if I could be of any assistance, presuming that you had to be desperate. At your house, a servant told me that you had gone away too, to the usual meadow, so I supposed you were having a respite and I… I thought I could prepare some food and spend the day with you…” he smiled tenderly but she did not returned it; her eyes became damp and her voice trembled a bit. “However, when I arrived here, I saw that you were training, that even though our lord was away, you were still thinking about his Divine Rule… And I felt so ashamed…”

He had become more disconcerted by the moment with each of her words.

“I want to be your support, to work with you so you can make your dream of peace true…” she shrugged and lifted his head to him trying to compose a smile. “And here I am, distracting you from your training… I’m not some smitten teenager to be daydreaming about love…”

She bit her lip, tearing her gaze from him, a despondent expression marring her face.

“I’m sorry for being so selfish…”

He sighed, a soft smile gracing his lips, letting silence fall between them so she could regain some of her calm, or cry if she felt like it. He blinked slowly, drinking in the sight of the woman he loved more than anything in the world as she tried to regain her composure, breathing deeply and pressing her lips in a thin line, clearly trying not to be overwhelmed by her feelings; because if they were talking about egoism, maybe, he had something to confess too, being as guilty of it as her, probably even more.

“That’s not being selfish, my darling.”

Her eyes widened a bit as she suddenly lifted her head. It was the first time that he had used an endearment with her and her heart filled with excitement, vanishing part of the sadness she felt. She wished that he would repeat it again to savour its echo in her ears and soul, but she kept silent, waiting for the words following his statement.

“Being selfish is wanting to have you all to myself; being so smitten…” he intentionally used the same word that she had said, releasing one of her hands and cupping her face, “… that I’m jealous even of the wind which caresses your skin; desiring to love you until you can only think of me…” his voice had become a low murmur which made her heart thunder and her cheeks burn. “Didn’t you wonder why I didn’t look for you when I discovered that Lord Nobunaga had gone away for the day? I hadn’t seen you in so long that I didn’t trust myself to remain gentlemanly and courteous” he sighed and a slightly crooked smile drew across his mouth. “I’m not as noble-minded as you think I am…”

She swallowed hard at the hidden implication of his words, her stomach clenching in response to the clear spark of desire which had appeared in his pupils as he spoke. An unknown turmoil was unleashing in her chest and she did not know how to respond, feeling thrilled and afraid at the same time.

“May I, my darling?”

She had barely had time to nod when his lips brushed hers in a slow gentle kiss and she surrendered at once, realising how much she had truly missed him and his warmth. They parted slightly, just enough for him to tilt her head further back before returning to her, this time pressing insistently, breaking her defenses and deepening the kiss, the hand in her cheek moving to the nape of her neck. Hers flew to his waist to support herself at the heated onslaught of his mouth on hers as a shiver ran down her spine when her fingertips brushed a sensitive spot just below the collar of her kimono. He had never kissed her with such passion and hunger, as if he was trying to consume her, to make her part of himself. She pulled him closer, wanting to feel his warmth even more. Both lost track of the time, just aware of each other and their shared yearning.

Slowly, he parted from her when a soft moan left her throat, kissing her forehead and burying her in his embrace, feeling her grip the sleeves of his kimono and leaning her cheek against his chest. He could feel her breathing raggedly, trying to regain her composure, her heart beating fast and strong against his own, and clenched his jaw. He wanted nothing more than to keep on kissing her until her own desire matched his, lay her down on the soft grass and make her his forever. However, it was not the moment. Even though she had been distracted by his kisses, it was obvious that she was still upset about their previous exchange and he was not going to take advantage of her vulnerability. When it happened, he wanted it to be an unforgettable memory for her, something as fulfilling and meaningful as it surely would be for him.

“Did I frighten you?” he whispered, caressing her long hair gently, his fingers combing her tresses, still in disarray, noticing that she was calmer.

The young woman shook her head, still hidden in his chest, and her voice reached him low and still a bit tremulous.

“I… only need a little more time. It just took me… unaware… But I’m glad that you showed me this side of you, Lord Mitsuhide.”

His heart seemed to overflow with feelings for her and the ardour that still cursed through his veins, turned into tenderness.

“I love you so much, my darling…”

He brushed her temple with his mouth and felt her move, her eyes, big and innocent, finding his.

“I love you too, Milord.”

They smiled at each other and finally, they let go, their fingers trailing down their arms until their hands twined lovingly.

“I’m sorry I made you worry” her face was still flushed and he was inwardly pleased to see her lips slightly swollen as a result of his ministrations. “And I’m sorry that I lied to you.”

He tightened his hold on her, caressing her skin with his thumbs.

“It’s all in the past now” his pupils regarded her with affection, seeing that the smile she showed him reached her eyes for the first time. “I want you to feel that you can trust me completely, that we can talk about anything and that together, we can find the solution to any problem which comes our way.”

She nodded and his grin widened.

“So” he said, changing the topic and letting go of one of her hands. “Shall we eat? It’s true what I said about being hungry before.”

Her face paled slightly, her eyes showing her apprehension when he bent over and picked up his musket first, putting it under his arm and then, the box with the onigiri. He returned her gaze with an amused one, feeling the unbalanced weight of the food inside.

“There are some rocks under those trees” he lifted his head to the side, pointing somewhere in front of them. “It’ll be more comfortable than sitting on the ground.”

It was then that she saw his pure white horse, free from its reins and saddle, grazing the grass around him. It lifted its ears when it heard them starting to walk and watched them for a moment, losing its interest in them a second later.

“What about your training?”

He chuckled lightly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll return to it once I finish eating” he seemed to think for a moment and then, glanced to her. “If you think you can stand it, you could stay and we could go back riding along the river. The landscape is beautiful in this area.”

She nodded and with that gesture, her sight fell again on the box.

“However… I doubt the food is edible now…” she lowered her head, a delicate frown appearing in her features. “I let it drop when I heard one of the shots.”

Mitsuhide tilted his head to the side to look at her better.

“Then, it’s my responsibility to eat it as an apology for startling you.”

She opened her mouth to protest but he just grinned at her, a mischievous spark appearing in his pupils, as he tugged at her hand, starting a light run, which sent her unbalanced, gasping loudly, and making her focus on the movement of her legs, forgetting about what she was going to say.

They reached their destination in a few seconds among laughter and, as she sat to regain her breath, he leant his weapon against the rock that he had chosen and opened the parcel quickly, before she had time to complain again.

Upon opening the wooden box, he found a mash of crumpled onigiri, bonito flakes, some pickled plums and a few streaks of soy sauce mixed with tiny cut vegetables. Her heart sank in her chest, seeing such disaster, but Mitsuhide only smiled.

“They must be delicious.”

She glared at him. a thin line drawing across her lips.

“That’s why I didn’t want to show them to you” she pouted a bit. “The ingredients are all mixed, so must be the flavours…”

“But savour doesn’t have anything to do with appearance, does it?” he left the lid on the grass, his pupils never leaving what for him were true delicacies.

Finally, his eyes returned to her and his hand took hers again.

“You made these thinking of me, right?”

A light blush dusted her cheeks as she nodded lightly.

“I’m not going to throw that love away because they’re not perfectly shaped.”

Her reply died in her throat and she followed his fingers with her gaze, seeing them pick up a piece of onigiri which still had some bonito flakes hanging from it.

“Thanks for the food.”

He put it in his mouth, eating it slowly, enjoying the taste.

“Excellent, as always.”

“Really?”

“Try them yourself” he said picking up another piece and tending it to her in a way that clearly stated his intention to feed her.

Blushing profusely, she accepted it from his hand, feeling his fingertips brushing her lips.

“It’s not bad.”

“No, my darling” he replied, his eyes never leaving hers as he nibbled a few grains that had sticked to his fingers. “It’s simply exquisite.”

THE END

[minuialeth75]

PUZZLE

Summary:  Steve remembers sitting in his hospital bed, feeling small and miserable and unworthy. He can’t say he feels better right now, sitting on his couch.

“You’ve not been sleeping,” is the first thing Bucky says.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word count: 4.8K 

Warnings: bit of angst but mostly fluffy fluff

A/N:  Set right after Captain America: The Winter Soldier. So spoilers up to that movie. It’s AU after that. Happy ending, because I've been traumatised by Avengers: Infinity War.

Link to AO3 

Steve’s been back in New-York for a month when the tell-tale prickling at the back of his neck begins. He’s sure he’s being watched. Not because he has the instincts of a soldier but because he retained those of a bullied scrawny kid. The ones that sometimes prevented him from being cornered somewhere deserted – somewhere Bucky wasn’t – when he least expected it.

The leads he had in Europe for Bucky have led to nowhere. Either Bucky has never been there, either he’s left without any trace. Steve could have stayed in Europe a while longer but something had pushed him back here. It was five months since he had awoken in a hospital after Bucky had saved his life. Because it couldn’t have been anyone else than Bucky. If Hydra hadn’t managed to recapture him – and Steve hoped to God they hadn’t – it meant that Bucky hadn’t had any of their drugs and mind wipes inflicted to him in a while. He had reasoned that the Winter Soldier would have most probably fallen back to some secret Hydra facility in Europe. But Bucky? Bucky could very well have stayed in an environment that hopefully was starting to feel familiar. So Steve had asked Natasha for a bit of help, which she had provided, a knowing look in her eyes. He now had a flat in Brooklyn, under the radar – except for his friends – bug free, without any spying neighbors. Well, the neighbors were probably spying on him, but it was the expected, gossipy kind of spying.

Steve is almost sure that it’s some Hydra agent – or agents – spying on him. At first he wonders why they don’t try killing him upfront but he realizes that maybe they think he knows where Bucky is, and they figure he’ll lead them to him at some point. The Winter Soldier was their prized weapon. They must be furious to have lost him.

He doesn’t want them to become aware he know they’re onto him, so he doesn’t change his routine. He just tries to not look like he’s on edge which isn’t easy, because he is. It’s not like he can do the groceries with his shield on his back, that’d look suspicious.

He turns in the fruits and vegetables aisle and there it is, the familiar prickling. He surreptitiously checks his surroundings while pretending to hesitate between two sorts of apple. No one suspicious looking, unless Hydra recruits toddlers. He sighs. Damn, they’re good.

What he doesn’t get is that it happens when he’s in public places. He never feels spied on in his flat or strolling alone in a street. It’s when he’s in a café, a supermarket, a clothing store, the garage to get his motorcycle checked, the farmers market on Saturdays… Are they hoping to drive him crazy? Because it’s sure starting to work. And he can’t ask Natasha – who’s way better than he is at spotting spies – because they would recognize her and they’d know he suspects something. He doesn’t want to live at the new Avengers compound because he loves his flat, damn it, and that would be admitting a sort of defeat. ______________________________

Steve wakes up abruptly, sitting upright in his bed, gasping for breath. He looks at the alarm clock. 2:54 am. He presses the heels of his palms on his eyes, hoping to erase what he just dreamt about. The old nightmare – a memory – had resurfaced after fighting Bucky on the helicarrier. It was Bucky falling off the train, down that deep snowy ravine. He first had the nightmare just after waking up from his 70 years sleep in the ice. But now it was made worse by the fact that he knew that Bucky had survived the fall and had been unwillingly transformed into a killing machine. If Bucky is starting to remember, he can’t imagine what kind of nightmares he must be having. Steve can’t help but think that Bucky must be all alone somewhere, maybe sleeping rough, because it’s not like he can rely on the Hydra network he had. Is he even eating properly? He doesn’t want to picture how things would have been like if S.H.I.E.L.D hadn’t been there to provide for him when he woke up, even if the notion is very bittersweet now. They hadn’t helped him out of their good hearts.

He sighs. He’s never going to fall back asleep, might as well get up and do something useful. He turns almost all the flat’s lights on, makes himself coffee, and goes to open his sketchbook.

The drawings and doodles are mostly architectural: buildings, streets, shop windows. Things that had changed since his time, things that hadn’t so much. And there’s this one drawing of Bucky. He made it while he was still in the hospital, after asking Sam if he could bring him his art supplies. Sam had gaped in surprise and he had realized he had never told him about his hobby. He had waited to be alone to put pencil to paper, intending to draw the Bucky he remembered from before the war. But in spite of himself, the Bucky of his portrait had ended up with long hair and haunted eyes. That’s when he had understood that he’d never get his old Bucky back. He had lost him a long time ago, even before rescuing him from Zola’s clutches. And experiments. Because otherwise there was no way Bucky would have survived that fall. He had been so happy to have his friend back – to have been the one to rescue him, for once – that he hadn’t seen the shadows in his eyes. He had been so exhilarated to be able to do what he had wanted to do since the beginning of the war – to fight, to make a difference – that he hadn’t paid enough attention to Bucky. Bucky who had always made time for him, had always recognized the first signs of an illness when he was still denying he felt off, who had given him almost all of his hard-earned food when he was sick, despite the fact that Bucky needed the energy to work. Steve remembers sitting in his hospital bed, feeling small and miserable and unworthy. He can’t say he feels better right now, sitting on his couch. ______________________________

Steve spends two weeks like this. Being watched and followed almost everywhere he goes and barely sleeping at night because of the nightmares. Well, the one nightmare. He’s starting to think that maybe he should talk about it to Sam. Thanks to the serum, he doesn’t need a lot of sleep, but it’s gotten to a point he’s feeling it. It’s 2 am and all the lights in his flat are on. Again. He’s about to pour himself some coffee when he thinks he hears something. Like a soft knock on his door? He shakes his head. He really has to talk to Sam. He’s finished pouring when he hears it again. What in the… He goes to his door and looks through the peephole, expecting the hall to be empty. Except it’s not. All he can see at first is a green cap that has seen better days and dark longish hair. Then the person moves slightly. He’d know that jawline anywhere. Steve unlocks the door with shaking hands. Bucky looks up, eyes searching. He’s looked better but he’s not gaunt. Apparently he’s been able to feed himself. Steve refrains from pulling him in – because he’s not sure Bucky’s not going to bolt and run away – and leaves plenty of space for Bucky to enter on his own and not feel trapped in. Steve also refrains from locking the door after him for the same reason.

“You’ve not been sleeping,” is the first thing Bucky says. Two things hit Steve at once, making him reel. The way Bucky looks at him is no longer confused or wary. It’s knowing. Bucky knows him. And… “You’ve been following me!” Steve blurts, and Bucky’s mouth thins. “Not that I minded.” Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “I just wondered who it was, that’s all.” Bucky’s face is disbelieving. “Okay, I thought it was Hydra but couldn’t figure out why they didn’t try to get me.”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to…” Bucky looks down briefly. “I was trying to remember you more and I thought that maybe if I saw you doing everyday things, it’d help.” “It’s okay.” Steve would rather cut his tongue than tell Bucky it had driven him nuts. “And… did it work?” “I’m here.” Bucky shrugs. Steve has the impression that there’s a lot Bucky’s not telling him. “How much do you remember?” Bucky looks away, jaw working, and Steve’s heart breaks a little because he realizes that, like he feared, Bucky remembers a lot of the bad along the good. Probably a lot more bad than good. “I wish it had been me instead of you,” he blurts. Bucky’s face is the picture of shock. “I mean… I was sleeping in the ice, not aware of anything. I had it easy.” “They wouldn’t have been able to use you. It wouldn’t have worked. You’re too good a person.” Steve feels like he’s been sucker punched. “Buck, what?” He has this sudden urge to touch, to reassure, but he’s not sure Bucky is okay with physical contact so he doesn’t, hands clenching at his sides. “Surely you don’t really think that?” Bucky doesn’t answer but his face says it all. Steve throws caution to the wind and steps close to his friend, who glances down. Steve’s hands are itching to make him look up. “Buck… don’t you realise? Why do you think they had to wipe your mind over and over and keep you in cryo between each mission?” Bucky looks up. Steve thinks for a moment that he’s going to step back and put some distance between them but if anything, he leans a bit closer. But there’s no real understanding on his face.

Steve realizes with a pang that the brainwashing and the memory wipes over the decades probably made him lose sense of himself, of what was happening to him and of Hydra’s plan. He must have thought they were torturing him for the fun of it. “They had to keep a tight control on you otherwise you’d have turned on them a long time ago. That’s who you are, Buck. They had to wipe your mind over and over so you wouldn’t remember the wonderful, good man you are. And even that didn’t work for long, didn’t it?” Bucky was looking at him like… Like he hadn’t in a long while. He was getting through to him.

“After… After I was sent to kill you and you recognized me… I asked them who you were… I told them I thought I knew you. They said they had to put me back in cryo, that I had been out for too long. But instead Pierce had them wipe my mind again so I could continue the mission. I remember that.”

Steve doesn’t think he has ever felt a wave of anger that strong. Bucky had started to recognize him. Pierce had been there, watching Bucky being tortured. Ordering Bucky’s torture. Pierce’s death had been too swift.

“Don’t go there,” Bucky says, touching his arm in a calming gesture. Steve is hit by how much he has missed him. By how he had felt adrift in his new world until he saw him. Suddenly he can’t stand the thought of not knowing where Bucky is.

“Spend the rest of the night here? Get a good night’s sleep?” Bucky freezes. Steve is torn because he really wants Bucky to stay but Bucky hasn’t had any free will for the past 70 years, certainly not any choice in where or when he was sleeping. “It’s not… You can leave if you want but… I’ve been worried about you.” That’s a bit low but it’s not like it’s a lie. “I… Are you sure…” Bucky’s hesitation breaks Steve’s heart. They used to share a bed for warmth without a second thought during the worst of winters or when he was sick. “You probably don’t remember but you’ve taken care of me so many times, in so many ways, since we were kids. Please, let me do the same for you.” Steve’s tone is supplicating. He doesn’t mind Bucky seeing him like that. It’s Bucky. “I think I remember some things. Like… I made you soup?” “It was supposed to be chicken soup but meat wasn’t cheap so it was more like a hot broth most of the time. But it was so good,” Steve reminisces with a strangled voice. He had never dared hoping that Bucky would be able to remember things like that.

“Look, do you want to eat something before going to bed?” Anything to distract Bucky from the fact that he’s very near tears. He doesn’t want Bucky to realize that his returning memories are important to him. He doesn’t want Bucky to put unnecessary pressure on himself to remember. He wants Bucky to feel comfortable with him. He wants Bucky to be. Just be.

Bucky shakes his head. “No, thanks. I just… I could use some sleep.” His shoulders slump a bit. The fact that Bucky seems to think he’s going to feel safe enough in his flat to sleep… “I have to warn you, I’m probably going to have nightmares.” Steve throws him a look. “Bucky, you’ve seen how I’ve been sleeping.” “Nightmares?” “Yeah.” Bucky doesn’t ask, just like Steve didn’t.

Steve heads to his bedroom on autopilot and Bucky follows him. He stops dead at the entrance, though. “I’m not gonna steal your bed. The couch looked comfortable.” Bucky jerks his thumb towards the living room. Steve suddenly realizes what he was doing, which old pattern his tired brain had fallen back to. He quickly covers up his misstep. “You sure?” “I’ve not exactly been sleeping in palaces lately. The couch will be perfect.” “Okay. Hmmm, wait a minute…” Steve goes to his dresser and gets several blankets. He remembers thinking he’d never feel warm again just after being out of the ice and he’s got a feeling that maybe Bucky is still in that stage. He eyes one of the two pillows on his bed and puts it on the pile of blankets on his arm.

“Are you trying to smother me to death?” The sarcasm in Bucky’s tone is unmistakable. Steve has missed this with Bucky, too. “Damn, you’ve uncovered my evil plan. You’re gonna sleep with that ugly cap on?” “You know what, I might,” Bucky retorts, mock saluting him with the dirty cap. Steve shakes his head in mock disapproval. “There are pyjamas in the first drawer, help yourself,” he says, pointing to his chest of drawers as he exits for the living room. “Okay, okay, coming, ya punk,” Bucky mutters and Steve is so shocked he almost trips on his way out. Bucky hasn’t called him “punk” in… decades. He quickly goes to the living room and starts to place the pillow and blankets on the couch to recover.

He feels Bucky’s presence behind him after a while and turns. “There, you’re all settled. Tell me if you ne…” Bucky’s changed into pyjama bottoms and a tee-shirt. The cap is off and he’s barefoot. He looks… soft and vulnerable, even with his metal arm visible. “If you need anything.”

“Why are you doing all this?” Bucky doesn’t say “I tried to kill you” but Steve hears it all the same.

“Because you’re my friend and you…” Steve was going to say “you need me” but he figures a whole bunch of people at Hydra must have used this line on him. “It’s my role to take care of you. It’s my turn, pal.” Bucky looks at him, his eyes a bit too bright. Steve says nothing more. ______________________________

After hesitating, Steve leaves his bedroom’s door open. After the sounds of Bucky settling in, the living room is quiet. Steve choses to believe it’s a good sign. Steve first thinks he’s going to pretend sleeping and read instead, but in the end, he changes into his own pyjamas and lies down. He falls asleep without even realizing it. _____________________________

Something wakes Steve up. Which comes as a shock, because it means he fell asleep in the first place. His heart leaps in his chest when he realizes that there are noises coming from his living room. He half stumbles from his bed but then his brain comes fully online and he remembers that Bucky is here. Bucky stayed. Steve wastes no time in leaving his bedroom, padding barefoot towards the noises.

There also are delicious smells, Steve notices as he’s met by the sight of Bucky in his open plan kitchen, still in pyjamas. Making pancakes. There’s also coffee brewing. The spectacle is achingly familiar. Bucky was almost always the one doing the cooking, because his Ma had taught him to make miracles with few things.

“The state of your fridge and cupboards is appalling,” Bucky says without turning, adding another pancake to the already impressive pile. “Today was groceries day. I’m surprised you even found eggs.”

Bucky turns to answer. His eyes widen. “Are you really wearing a Captain America tee-shirt?” Steve can feel his ears reddening. He didn’t really think about what he was wearing before coming to the kitchen. “That was someone’s idea of a funny gift. I can’t wear it anywhere else.” “You don’t say.” Bucky’s tone is sarcastic.

Now that he can see Bucky’s face, Steve realizes that the dark marks beneath his eyes are still there. His heart plummets. “You didn’t sleep,” he says, hoping his voice isn’t reproachful because it’s certainly not how he feels. And he doesn’t want Bucky to lie to make him feel better. “No, I didn’t. Strange new place, strange people…” Bucky smiles wryly. “Buck…” “I lied down and I relaxed. Really relaxed. Steve, do you… Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been able to relax? Well, I don’t. I don’t really remember. But it must be long.”

That’s the most words Bucky has said to him since his mask fell months ago. It’s also the first time Bucky has called him “Steve” since… He won’t go there. Instead of thinking about what Bucky can’t do, he’ll focus on what he can, which is feeling safe enough in his flat with him to not be on high alert. “I… You’re right. I shouldn’t have said…” Bucky gestures dismissively. “It came from a good place. You slept.” The corners of his mouth turn up. He puts the plate piled high with pancakes on the table, which he has also set. Steve sits down, a bit shaken by the familiar domesticity of the scene. Bucky brings the coffee pot on the table, filling the mugs. The pancakes are drowning in butter. Bucky follows Steve’s look. “Yeah, couldn’t find any corn syrup. Good thing we don’t need to worry about cholesterol, right?” Steve huffs a laugh. He knows he hasn’t answered Bucky’s remark about his good night’s sleep. He thinks he knows why he was able to sleep. “You know, I think I slept because… because I knew where you were. And that you were safe.”

Bucky, who’s already wolfing down a pancake, gulps audibly, staring at him. Their eyes meet across the table, and hold. Then Bucky looks down, his brow crinkling. It’s cute. And wow, where did that thought come from? Steve takes a sip of coffee, not at all hiding behind his mug.

“Steve…” Bucky’s tone – and the use of his first name – are more than enough for Steve to look up. “Sometimes I remember the small things – like how to make pancakes – but I don’t always remember the big ones… or sometimes I think I remember but it’s… distorted and incomplete.” Steve nods his understanding, trying to keep his expression neutral because right now he wishes he could go and take out Hydra. All of Hydra. Slowly and painfully. “Back before… before the war… and… during the war… Were we…” Bucky’s eyes are resolutely fixed on the table. “Were we more than friends?”

That’s… unexpected. As if Bucky had pressed some sort of button, Steve’s mind starts replaying years of memories of him – with him. Always. The joy of Bucky offering to live with him after his Ma’s death. He had tried to refuse but he was glad Bucky had all but barged into his life. The gripping fear of Bucky being enlisted and leaving for a war Steve couldn’t follow him to. Bucky had also been in his thoughts when he had agreed to undergo the serum experiment. The searing pain of Bucky tumbling down that ravine, revisiting him every night in his nightmares. His very last thought for Bucky an instant before his plane crashed, thinking that at least he hadn’t had to wait too long to join him. The feeling of utter emptiness when he had awaken in that fake room and realised everyone he knew was gone, that he didn’t join Bucky after all, that he wouldn’t for a long time. The permanent hole at the center of his chest that nothing could seem to fill. The mask of the Winter Soldier falling and… BuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBucky. Like a beam of light into his heart. The truth slams into Steve and it’s so simple and so genuine he doesn’t understand why he didn’t see it before. There’s a wooshing sound in his ears and he belatedly realises it’s the sound of his heart trying to beat out of his chest.

Steve’s eyes focus on the present. Bucky’s head is bowed, his shoulders hunched forwards. Steve realizes he’s probably been too long in answering. Reacting even. He can’t stand seeing him like this. “Bucky?” he softly calls. Bucky looks up and the resignation in his eyes cuts like a knife. “That’s okay. I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t know why…” Oh, the irony. Bucky with his fractured memory is more perceptive than he’s been. Steve can’t help but wonder what kind of memories has led him to ask that question. Or maybe it was a feeling? Did Bucky… “Let me set a ground rule” – and in this moment Steve knows that he means for the years to come, because he has no intention of letting Bucky out of his sight ever again – “you can ask me anything. Anything at all you don’t remember, anything you don’t understand.” Bucky’s look is focused, laser-like. He nods. “We… we weren’t more than friends.” Steve sees Bucky’s face falling a little. In that moment he wishes he could have given him another answer but that would have been lying about their past, and Bucky has been lied to enough. “Can I… why did you ask?” Steve knows it’s unfair to ask him that. He knows he’s being selfish. Just like he knows he’s trying to avoid staring at Bucky but somehow still notices the infinitesimal expressions on his face, the way his hair softly frames his jaw, the stormy grey of his eyes, how his own tee-shirt fits him.

Bucky lets out a chuckle but it’s a dark one and Steve immediately understands that he pushed too far. “I’m sorry but no. I can’t… I can’t answer you, okay?” Bucky must be thinking Steve is playing games with him. Steve can’t let him think that for a moment more. Not now, not when he’s just realized that he… He takes a deep breath. If he crashes and burn, so be it. At least he’s got thicker skin than Bucky right now.

“Buck…” Steve gingerly puts his hands on top of Bucky’s. Slowly, to give him the time to avoid his touch if he wants. It’s the first time he touches Bucky since… God, last time was probably a quick hug before their last mission together. Before Bucky fell from that cursed train. He’s not… He’s not going to count the blows they exchanged fighting. He gets the horrible feeling that Bucky hasn’t been touched in a gentle manner in 75 years. Bucky doesn’t recoil. He just stares in fascination at Steve’s flesh hand on his metal one. He looks up, bewildered.

“Stevie?” Steve bites the inside of his cheek to not react to the use of that name, and he tastes blood. He can’t bring himself to move his hands away and Bucky doesn’t shake them off.

“Buck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see it sooner. I didn’t realize what it was. I can’t believe I’ve been so blind. I thought I loved you like a brother, but… When you enlisted and went to the war without me…” “You were jealous because you wanted to fight too…” “That, and also… You were going where I couldn’t follow, Buck. I was worried sick. So when Dr Erskine told me about the serum…” Bucky’s eyes grew wide. “You did this to follow me? You could have died, you fucking idiot. It could have killed you.” “It didn’t. It didn’t, and I found you again. Buck, you were my very last thought when the plane went down. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to be with you again. So it wasn’t so bad, dying. I don’t think that’s how I should have felt if you were only my friend.”

Bucky smiled tremulously. Steve had missed Bucky smiling. He felt Bucky’s hands shaking slightly under his – and how could the metal one shake?

Bucky inhaled deeply. “I asked because of how I felt after spying on you for a couple of weeks. I got this weird sensation in my chest the first time I saw you smile – you were sitting at this café terrace, drawing. I thought I was coming down with something, but… I realised I felt it when you looked happy. I realized the sensation was me being happy too. The more I observed you, the more stuff I remembered, bits and pieces. Made me think we were… I could have killed you on that helicarrier, Steve. You threw your goddamn shield away, trusting me not to kill you. I was… completely lost. I didn’t know what to think.” “You saved me.” “I couldn’t let you die, and I didn’t understand why.” Steve feels Bucky’s right hand going relaxed and steady under his and he becomes aware that his thumb is gently stroking Bucky’s knuckles. Probably has been for a while. “Buck… I’m so sorry I failed you.” “What bullshit are you on about?” “I should have seen… I should have realized that they had already done something to you after rescuing you. I was too busy fighting. I was too happy I was finally fighting, making a difference. I should have seen you weren’t quite the same.” “And… what would you have done about it?” “I… I could have sent you back home.” “The hell you’d have. I’d have never left your side.” “Then I should have… I should have been more insistent on going to Europe sooner, to where the fight was, instead of parading on stage in that ridiculous costume for months. You wouldn’t have been taken prisoner. They wouldn’t have…” “I’d be dead, Steve. If they hadn’t experimented on me, I’d be long gone right now. Buried deep in that fucking ravine.” “I… What they did to you… what they made you do… I don’t have the right to be glad that…” “You were always too damn selfless for your own good. The past’s the past, Steve. I have you now. Wouldn’t change that.” Steve realizes that it’s now Bucky who’s holding his hands. “And you looked damn good in that costume. I’ve seen the films at the museum.” Steve knows he’s blushing to the tip of his ears. “God, Buck…” “I like it when you look at me like that.” “Like what?” “When you don’t look like you’re searching for traces of someone else.” “I wasn’t…” Steve interrupts himself because he knows Bucky’s right. “Sorry.” “That guy’s no longer really completely here, you know. I think he hasn’t been for a while.” “I… I know. I know. It’s not like I haven’t changed at all myself. But I’m still Steve. And you’re still Bucky.” Steve smiles tentatively. “Yeah. Bits and pieces. Puzzle. I still don’t really know.” “We can discover that.” Steve doesn’t say “together”, but it’s heavily implied. “We still friends?” Steve shakes his head. Bucky’s fingers tense on his hands. “Much more than friends.” Bucky smiles. Genuinely smiles. It’s like basking in the sun’s light after 75 years under the cold ice. “I don’t know if I know how to do that,” Bucky says. “Me neither. We can learn together?”

The coffee and the pancakes are long cold and forgotten when Bucky tentatively, gently, but passionately touches his lips to Steve’s.