Warning: a little LANGUAGE

Steve wasn't really sure what to expect once he had agreed to meet with you, since the text you had sent him was barely coherent and you wouldn't answer his calls to get you to explain it.  He wasn't even sure if this was a good idea, and he thought that maybe giving Bucky a call first would be the way to go, but as he held his phone in his hand with the number ready to connect, he couldn't do it.  By now, he had arrived at the bar you had directed him to, or at least he had hoped this was it; your instructions were a little vague but he figured that you probably weren't in the best mind state if this was where you ended up.  It was no more than a hole in the wall, dark and dirty, with only one other customer at the bar who may or may not have been passed out drunk, he couldn't really tell.

"(Y/N)?"

"Steve?" you sniffled, wiping your arm heavily over your eyes and nose as you turned to see him.  "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, you texted me?"  He lifted his phone with your message lighting the screen, allowing you to take it from him to inspect.  All you gave was a shrug in defeat and handed it back, giving your drink your attention again.

"Guess I did."

"Doll, are you okay?  What's going on?"

"Don't call me that, Steve.  I'm not your doll."

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry," he backpedaled, hands up in deference, "I won't call you that.  But can you tell me what's wrong so I can help?"

"I don't need your help."

"Then why did you text- you know what, nevermind.  Point is, I'm here now, and I want to know what's going on, even if I can't help." 

"Fine, sit," you commanded, pulling out the bar stool next to you.  The loud scrape of it across the wooden floor sounded so much louder than it likely was, given that your drink was starting to hit its stride and your mind was getting pleasantly fuzzy.  When he sat down, his arm just barely grazed across yours and it created a wave of nerves to strike, and an involuntary jolt to push you away as if the contact physically hurt you.

"Hey, seriously, (Y/N).  Are you okay?  What's going on?"

"We broke up," you blurted out with a huff.  Before you felt the will to continue with a conversation that your subconscious clearly wanted, you took another long drink from your nearly empty glass.  "Turns out that forgiveness can't be given to two people at the same time.  Did you know that?  So, yeah, congrats on the win," you smiled weakly, holding up your glass to cheer him in mocking fashion. 

"He's still on that?  That was forever ago, and he told me that he was fine."

"I guess it's still fresh for him, because now he thinks that I'm screwing Stark.  He says that he'll never trust me, so there's a nice shiny nail in the coffin of our relationship."

Steve had been shaking his head as you spoke, as if he could deny the words away that simply.  To him, this was old news; a topic that he had thought they cleared the air on, because Bucky never mentioned it to him again after that day when he could have lost you both so easily.  "No, this isn't right.  I'm gonna talk to him."  He pushed himself up from the stool but your hand grabbed his arm and held him in place.

"No, Steve, don't.  He won't change and I'm just so done with fighting...I'm so tired.  Even when I try to do the right thing, I fuck it up and he'll never see it any other way."

Of course, the universe or karma or whatever the hell was ruining your evening couldn't just let you catch a break; your hand had barely come to rest on Steve's arm when the door of the bar creaked open with a piercing squeal.  A cool rush of air filled the small room, but you firmly believed that it wasn't from the night chill; it was the mood that Bucky had just brought in with him.

"Shoulda guessed you'd call him," he grumbled, turning away to leave, but Steve rushed forward to stop him.

"Buck, knock it off.  It's not like that.  (Y/N) and I are friends, and that's all.  You really need to move on, man.  It was my fault, not hers, okay?  If you want to punish someone for the rest of their lives, here I am."

"It takes two people, Steve."

"Then why are you only punishing her?" Steve snapped back, his voice growing more incensed with each line.  "How is that fair?  I kissed her, Buck, simple as that.  I crossed a line and she pushed me back.  I.  Kissed.  Her.  I kissed your girlfriend behind your back because I wanted to, and you're damned right that I wish I could do it again.  You sure as hell were never there when she needed-"

The swift and precise strike of Bucky's fist to Steve's face left you gasping at the sight, almost forgetting that he could easily take the hit without too much injury.  All you could see was the shine of Bucky's metal hand as it swung through the air, and the small spray of blood that left Steve's split lip with the impact.  He stumbled back against his chair, toppling it over and crushing your glass under his hand as he reached back to catch his balance on the bar.

"You stay the hell away from her, you hear me?" Bucky growled. 

"Why?  She's not yours anymore, right?  She asked me to come here tonight, not you."

"Steve, stop pushing him," you warned, "this isn't right.  It's not worth the two of you fighting like this."

Bucky slowly stood himself up straight again and adjusted the bottom of his jacket with a quick tug.  He looked around the bar and saw that besides you and Steve, only the weathered old bartender had been a witness to what he had done.  Pulling out a few spare bills from his pocket, he tossed them down on the bar with a curt nod to the man before turning back for the door.  "Sorry about the mess.  You might want to take out the trash before you close up."

"Buck-" you tried, but he didn't so much as flinch at the sound of your voice.  Steve didn't even bother to hear it.

"I think I got the focus off of you, doll," he chuckled quietly with a wipe of his sleeve over his lip.  "Maybe now he'll talk to you."

"I didn't ask you to do that.  Did you ever stop to think that this might actually make things worse?"  You slid yourself down off of the stool and grabbed your jacket, haphazardly throwing it on as you hurried through the door and onto the night sidewalk, hoping that you might actually catch Bucky before he got too far away.  After looking each and every direction, only to find him nowhere in sight, you decided to give this one shot to see if the two of you were still on the same wavelength; you took a deep breath and turned, walking to the one place that you had both always found comfort, and found each other.

~~~

Your hunch paid off, at least if your end goal was to talk to him again.  You could tell that it was Bucky who was sitting on the front steps of your apartment building from the reflection of the moonlight on his arm before you were close enough for him to notice you there.  It wouldn't be out of the question for him to get up and walk away without a word after the scene at the bar; you wanted to get him to believe that it was really all Steve, but another, more prevalent part of you just wanted it all to stop.  Whether than meant alone or together, you had no way to know. 

"Buck?"

"Yeah," he sighed heavily, a small sniffle not missing your notice, "yeah, it's me.  I couldn't think of where else to go."

"And all of your stuff is still here."

"And all of my stuff is still here," he nodded in quick agreement.  "Hell, I don't know if there's even anywhere else that would take me right now.  I'm pretty sure that Stark thinks I'm a raving lunatic, I sure as hell can't stay with Steve anymore, and I'll never bunk with Sam, let me tell you.  Not in a million years.  Bastard snores like a dying grizzly."

"Or you could just stay here."  You watched him for any shift in his expression, made difficult by the shadows over his face, but when nearly a full minute passed without a breath, you backpedaled.  "Or if it's easier, I could go to Nat's until you can get everything out-"

"I want to stay here," he finally said.  "I want to stay here, (Y/N), I always have.  This is...this is our home.  I'm not me if I go anywhere else.  I'm not me if I'm not with you."

"That's quite the sudden shift, Buck.  A few minutes ago, you told the bartender to throw me out with the trash.  Why the change?"

"Was it really all Steve?" he whispered, making you strain to hear him under the wind that was whistling between you; it echoed an ache that you felt with so much distance keeping you apart.  "You can say anything right now, it can't get any worse."

Throwing caution to that whimpering wind, you nodded silently and watched your feet begin to move again, taking one slow and measured step at a time until you were standing in front of him.  You weren't sure what you were waiting for, or what you expected, until he slid himself aside and tapped his hand on the steps next to him.  When Bucky finally looked up at you again, his eyes were reddened and puffy, but he held his stoic expression as if that would actually fool you. 

"Yes, it was mostly Steve," you finally answered softly as you sat next to him.  "I pushed him back, but I admit that I could have pushed faster.  We were all at a party, we were having fun for the first time in so long, and when we were dancing he just got carried away in the moment.  I forgave him a long time ago, Buck, and he's never made a move on me since.  I know he feels terrible, and what he did tonight was his way of helping, I guess.  Stupid way of helping, but helping nonetheless."

"Well, maybe we're both idiots."

"You did mention that before."

"Guess it has to be true then, huh?" he smiled, ever so faintly.  "What the hell was he thinking?"

"He was thinking that you needed a good jolt to see that maybe we really are telling you the truth, Buck.  You were so wrapped up in being jealous and suspicious that you couldn't hear me.  I'm not going after Tony, and I'm not looking for Steve.  I'm here with you."

"You sure that's what you want?"

"Yes, if you can tell me that you trust me," you answered almost sternly, "otherwise I can't stay in this with you.  It's too much."

"It's not you that I don't trust.  I don't trust myself to make this work," he relented, "and I think I've been sabotaging us all along but blaming you for my insecurities with that dumb excuse of you and Steve.  You're not the first beautiful lady that he's stolen a kiss from, but you're certainly the last one he should have tried it on."

"True, because now I know that you're so much better," you smiled cautiously.  You gave him a small nudge with your shoulder, getting him to look back.  He was your gentle and loving Bucky again in that moment, and you had to hurry to catch it before it faded.  "Come on, let's go inside, it's starting to snow."

"Again?" he whined, petulantly stomping his feet up the stairs and mumbling to himself under his breath.  "It's supposed to be spring.  Enough already!  I'm not the Winter Soldier anymore, so if this is some kind of joke, I ain't laughing!"