"All was golden when the day met the night."

You wouldn't know this at first glance, but Bucky was the day, and Steve the night.

Bucky, for all his sarcasm, dirty humour and a glare that could kill, was the day. He was any witty response he made, glancing at Steve for approval, before smiling with satisfaction. He was too-hot days cooped up in their apartment, wearing as little as appropriate. (Even then.)

His bright smile hid the rainclouds; there were parts of him he didn't let anyone see. Especially Steve.

Steve was the night. He was a scrappy kid, furious at the world, a fighter. He was every calm evening sitting outside straining to see the stars through the smoky sky, trying to ignore the whistling of planes overhead. He was every storm, his eyes dark, his fists curled.

Steve smiled, but they were small. Usually reserved for Bucky and his mother. It was his eyes that gave him away. Dark with rage, light with glee, confused, happy. Steve kept a guarded demeanor; he wasn't the type to outright complain about any thing. When he did, he took action. He was smart remarks against the usual backstreet bully, and less sarcastic jokes around Bucky.

It was when they were together when they were their best, though. They complemented each other through every action, every word, every glance. Light and dark, challenging each other, supporting one another.

What was one without the other? They silently thought. Who were they without the other one?

They were just a couple of boys from Brooklyn. Stubborn, resourceful, daring; apart, they were dangerous, willing to go to Hell and back to be with the other once more. Willing to tear down everything, start over, try again.

The definition of love is 'an intense feeling of deep affection'. Alternately, care very much for, think the world of, be devoted to.

They loved each other. That was true. After years of fighting side by side, living through every injury, sickness, or loss, obviously, their connection grew. Steve wouldn't hesitate to say that he loved Bucky, explicitly. Bucky would try denying it - Bucky failed every time in doing so.

Day and night are each other's halves. One without the other makes little sense. Light and dark, love and loss, their story.

Their story was every winter when Steve got sick and Bucky worried if he would pull through, fussing over his blankets and pillows, making jokes to silently mask his fear. It was every busy work day when Bucky would collapse onto the couch, exhausted, and Steve would make some tea and listen to him rant and yell, barely interjecting.

It was Steve charging off to war at the slightest chance of finding Bucky alive. It was Bucky willing to lay down his life time and time again for an angry blond boy who didn't know when to quit.

Bucky joked about saying things like 'you complete me', just to hear Steve laugh at how corny it sounded. Secretly, he believed it with all his heart, but was content to hear Steve happy.

And oh, their catchphrase: if it wasn't textbook romance. "I'm with you 'till the end of the line." A promise that they had somehow managed to keep, at the end of it all.

Night and day, round and round, together. At peace.

They could be at peace. They could be golden, if they wanted to.

They couldn't wait until the day came that they could be. Until then, they remained, day and night. Together until the end of the line.

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Wow, that was more poetic than usual. Different, but fun.