rust
/rəst/

ржавый
/rzhavyy/

—————

"I— I still can't believe it's really you, Steve," Bucky said, looking at me like I had risen from the dead. Well, that guess wouldn't have been too far off anyway.

"Yea... it's really me, Buck," I assured him. He needed a lot of that lately. Reassurance. To know that I was on his side. That there was absolutely no need to be afraid of me or Natasha or Clint or Bruce or Thor or even Tony.

Living in Stark Towers was nice, really. Don't get me wrong, living there was probably one of the best experiences of my life by far but I needed time away. I needed to escape to a small, cramped apartment in Brooklyn with my best pal, Bucky Barnes.

No, it wouldn't be easy. And I knew that before I left.

~*~

"Doing this on your own won't be easy, Steve. You gotta understand what you're dealing with here," Natasha had said.

"He's my friend, Nat, and more than that. I know him better than anyone else. Trust me, it'll be fine," I had replied.

"I know, I know. Just, promise me you'll be careful? He's changed and he's dangerous. I know you can't necessarily accept that yet but he has gone through a lot and you have got to be ready for anything he might say or do. Brainwashing someone is one thing. Undoing all the damage that has been done and bringing back what's already been long-lost is where the challenge lies."

"Nat, you gotta trust me. I promise I'll be careful. Okay?"

"Okay," she hugged me, then Bucky and I left.

~*~

Sure. She was right. But I can deal with it. Anything he throws at me, I've got under control.

How bad could it be?

• • •

"So... Steve..." he started, as we drove down the crowded city.

"Mmm?" I hummed, looking over at him.

"I don't really know where to start..." he paused, thinking. "I don't really remember, you know, everything. I'm not sure I ever will. Or even that I want to. But, right now, I know you're name. I know that I knew you... once. A long time ago—" he looked over at me. He seemed concerned or worried or.. I don't know, maybe lost. Longing for answers to the questions he's had for... years. But there was something missing; the story wasn't yet complete within his mind. "It hurts, Steve, not knowing. I know you, I'm sure I do. I'm just not sure how. Maybe you wer—"

"A friend, Buck."

"I suppose so..." he paused, looking deep into my soul. "I feel so... afraid. So lost. Like everything I've ever known is gone. That's probably because everything is gone, Steve. All these years later and we're the only ones left. Not only that, but I feel like I'm losing my mind. Like everything I'm thinking right now is just whirling around in my head and creating a storm in my brain. Fragments of things I should remember are getting lost in translation with obscure information. Every little movement I see or unexpected sound I hear my instant reaction it to retaliate. That chant in my head is pounding through my blood. Infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. God, I wish it would all just go away!" His hands flew up to the sides of his head, clutching his hair and covering his tear ridden eyes. "My blood is boiling red, Steve, under my skin. My hands are covered in it, though it's not my own. I've done countless things that I'm not proud of... things I'm ashamed of, even. Things I can't even remember, nevermind think about. No, it wasn't my choice but the guilt still haunts me in my shadow... follows me, everywhere I go. Whispers to me that it's not worth the fight that you, Steve, shouldn't be doing all this for me because I'm just not worth it."

"That's your concern? Buck, there's not another person in this world whose life I'd so willingly save by offering up my own. Of everyone I've ever met, you're life is definitely the most worthy of my help. I know who you were and I can still see little pieces of him hidden inside you. He's under there, Buck, and I'll be working my very hardest to get him out unscathed. Whatever it takes."

He exhaled, "really?"

"Without a shadow of a doubt," and that was the first time I had seen him smile in a long, long time.

• • •

Upon arriving, we hopped out of the car Tony had ever-so-kindly lent us and unpacked our bags and such.

I placed my bags down along with a mattress in the only bedroom there was. Well, there was a kitchen/dining room/living room combo (all open walls), a bathroom off of the living room, a small bedroom and an en suite.

I couldn't help but smile when I saw Bucky walk in. His whole face lit up, almost as if he remembered, even though I'm fairly certain he didn't.

"Some place you've found here, Steve," Bucky said. I was convinced that while he didn't have much of his memory back, his having 'me' within that which he did recall, made him feel obligated to use my name in every sentence... certainly with the purpose that he might possibly remember something else.

"I know it's not much bu—"

"No. Steve, please. It's perfect. I love it. Thank you for... doing this for me," he had a twinkle in his eye as he whispered over to me... almost like he felt something. No, he didn't remember much. But of all things to remember, I was the one thing he did.

I get to fall in love with him all over again, now don't I?

"C'mon, let's start unpacking... there's a lot of stuff to move," I said.

"Okay... good idea." We both headed into our room that we'd be sharing, just like old times. I wanted it to be as similar to the 1930s as possible, so this was the only was to achieve that. "So, uh, Steve? We're sharing one room? This one?"

"Oh, yea we are. Sorry, I forgot to mention that. I know it's a lot less than you're used to but it's for the best."

"Sounds good to me."

After the dressers and couches and other large pieces of furniture were placed, we unpacked our clothes and personal belongings. I picked the right side of the bed... seeing how, seventy years ago, he was always on the left side and I was always on the right.

It was pat midnight and we were both exhausted. Time for sleep, we're gonna need our rest for a full day of remembering tomorrow.

• • •

I'll say it was, I don't know, nearly three in the morning when I was jolted awake. How? Well I was elbowed in my ribs.

"Buck! You okay?" I yelled as he looked over at me, eyes wide and dazed.

His breathing was labored as he whispered back, "uh, yea I- I think so... I dunno what can over me. I'm real sorry, Steve." His eyes were so full of sorrow and embarrassment. The bruise would heal in a minute or so, no big deal really. But I felt so bad.

"What happened?"

"I think you might've touched my arm or something..." he looked around the room like he was scanning it for an assassin.

Great, so it was my fault. Now that I'm thinking about it, I probably resorted back to my old sleeping habits now that we were back to our old routine... my hand probably found its way over to him and he must've been startled or something. "Sorry... I'll face the other way," I murmured as I turned around. He didn't say anything so I said "goodnight, Buck."

Nothing. Alrighty then. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

• • •

Every day was progress. He really was gettin better. I would practice scaring him or sneaking up on him or touching his arm or back out of nowhere. These all seem like bad ideas but I knew deep down that he wouldn't hurt me.

One week passed and my daily good mornings stopped scaring him.

Three weeks passed and we were on a I'll touch your shoulder every morning when I walk into the kitchen bases.

Four weeks passed and jumping in from of him when he came out of the bathroom stopped startling him.

Seven weeks passed and brushing up on him as we slept didn't wake him up anymore.

Ten weeks passed and going out into the city (surrounded by so many people) no longer stressed him out.

He was doing so well. Now, it's time to help him remember.

"So, easy question first. What's my full name?" I said.

"... isn't it just Steve Rogers?"

"Maybe I didn't ever tell you my full name..." I whispered. "Anyway, it's Steven Grant Rogers."

"Got it. Steven Grant Rogers. Onward!" He smiled. He did that so much lately.

"Where did we grow up... as in, where's we live when we were kids?" I asked.

"Well, it's not really a memory but I'm guessing it's Brooklyn. That's mostly seeing how this, of all places, is where you chose to bring me."

"Smart. But, yea, you're right. Remember anything?"

"Nope."

I sighed. "Okay okay... do you remember your name?" I was actually genuinely interested to know the answer to this one.

"... Bucky is kinda all everyone's been saying so no."

"James Buchanan Barnes."

"What a mouthful," he laughed. So did I.

"I guess so, I never thought of it that way, though. I like your name."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm."

"Wanna trade?" We laughed again.

"In all seriousness, Buck, do you remember me being all small and fragile? All those times you helped me when I was sick? Being there for me whenever I needed you? Helping me through my mother's death?"

Then I watched his face go blank. His eyes unwavering from the wooden floor... like he was in a trance. "Yes," his voice was small.

"You do?" I was shocked.

"I mean, maybe. I- you were so sad... you cried for days. Sarah, she- she meant so much to you and- wow," his expression was of complete and utter awe. Eyes filled with a galaxy of rediscovered information that he could grasp for... finally, a piece of the puzzle (even if it was a small one) fit into place.

"Her name... you know it."

"Yea, yea... I remember. Your mom's name was Sarah." A smile spread across my face.

"Mhm. It was..." I felt my eyes go watery. I was supposed to be the strong one here (at least mentally and emotionally) but I guess I couldn't think about my mom without, well, getting emotional.

"Uggh Steve... don't cry, God, you'll make me cry too," he scooted over on our bed and met me in his arms. We hugged it out, like old times. As I cried into his shoulder I realized what he'd said. How he had meant it. He's found his compassion, I noticed. He felt sad when I did. It's like we're linked, he and I.

As my tears subsided an idea sprung into my head. Ever-so-slowly unfolding itself, I pulled away from his strong hold just so I could see his face. I looked to my right to see him only inches from me. I felt this urge inside my veins spread throughout my entire body and, suddenly, consume me. I assume that's what he saw in my eyes when he (out of nowhere) asked:

"Steve, what're you—"

"Do you trust me?" I interrupted.

"Uhh- Steve, I- what... d'you—"

"Bucky. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

I sighed in relief and nodded my head. I moved closer to him and he looked at me like he was unsure of what was happening. His mouth opened like he was going to say something but didn't want to because he wanted to see what would happen. What I would do.

My lips hovered over his and he exhaled audibly as his eyes closed, anticipating my next movements. I took that as an okay to move forward, so I took that last, ever-so-slight, movement and gently placed my lips on his.

My eyes closed and I felt a surge of heat course though my blood. My lips, however, were the only ones moving. He was still.

"Bucky..." I started.

"Mhm?" He returned.

"You, uh, didn't kiss me back..."

His eyebrows furrowed, "oh... am I supposed to, uh, do that?"

"That didn't bring back any—" his eyes got big.

"Wh- Steve, I- woah..." he was at a massive loss for words right now.

"Talk to me Buck, what's wrong?"

"D... do that again."

So I kissed him. He made his best efforts to kiss me back (even though he was clearly out of practice and was also very obviously distracted). Every second it went deeper and his face seemed to make new expressions (as his mind made new discoveries) with each different movement. He hummed along as I ran my fingers through his long brown locks and down to his stubbly, structured, cheeks.

I pulled away, but his eyes remained shut. "Steve, you— I..." he stuttered and his speech was muddled. When his eyes finally opened they were full of realization. "Oh my God, Steve. I remember you... everything about you. Everything about, well, us."

"Everything?" I asked.

"Everything. From the beginning through now and until the end of the line, pal."

"You really do remember."

"I knew that if I'd have to say something to reassure you, that would be it," and he was right.

"That's great... so, anyway, you remember everything about everything now, right?"

"Right."

"So then... this," I slid my hand across his inner thigh as I stared deeply into his blue eyes. I licked my lips, missing the sensation of his and mine together. I inched towards him, though he still looked cautious. I kissed him gently, but he pulled away.

"Actually, there is one thing I don't remember..."

"What is it? I'm sure there's a way I can help you."

"That's just it. You're the only one who can help me remember. Because... well kissing and stuff is what I can't remember."

"Stuff?... like, this kinda stuff," I kissed him and traced my fingers along the belt line of his jeans. He let it a shuddering sigh when I pulled back from his lips.

"Mhm..." I traveled below his belt line, "just like that." I undid his belt with my other hand and moved his underwear out of the way. "Uhh... Steve," he groaned as I ran my knees through the thatch of hair that I had encountered.

We leaned back onto the mattress (which was currently laid out on the floor), and I, much to his surprise, took him in my hand. His breath hitched as I started pumping. His hips swayed up and down in accordance with my movements. His moans filled the room as well as slow guttural groans of my name. His breathing picked up pace as his body clenched up tight. With a loud grunt, he was coming undone before me and uncontrollably releasing hot white ribbons onto my hand and on his shirt.

"Steve..." he whispered, almost ashamed.

"Please," I said, assuredly. "Don't bullshit me, Barnes—"

"What?" He asked, slyly.

"You know damn well what," I teased. "Pfft, I-forgot-how-to-do-stuff my ass."

He chuckled. "I did. I wouldn't outright lie to your face, Steve."

"I know, I know," I smiled.

"Well, what now?"

"Now, I gotta make a phone call. I owe a certain Natasha Romanoff
an I told you so."

—————
• James_BuchananBarnes •