13

Bucky POV 

"I'm sorry Jessica turned out to be evil," is the first thing I say to Steve when we sit down. The little fast food place is practically empty, but he insisted we both wear hats and glasses just in case. 

"Jennifer," he corrects, taking a sip of his soda. "And no, you're not."

"No, I'm not," I agree. "I hated her." 

"Why?" 

Because I love you, but that's not allowed. Even if it was allowed, Steve is America's icon. He can't be anything less than perfect, so that includes being straight. 

"Because she was kinda a bitch," I put it bluntly, and he looks surprised. "Why are you looking at me like that?" 

"It's just weird to hear you curse." 

"I curse all the time." 

"You didn't before," he mumbles. 

That doesn't sound right. I'm pretty sure I've always had a foul mouth. In fact, Sam constantly tells me to stop cursing even though he curses twice as much and twice as badly. 

"I didn't?" I tilt my head to the side in confusion. 

"Not around me, at least." 

Aw, fragile Steve hates hearing swear words. Pathetic. 

Woah, where did that come from? 

"Oh. I can stop, if it makes you uncomfortable." 

"No, no, by all means, swear away." 

"You sure?" 

"Talk how you want to talk, bud." 

"Okay." 

We sit in an awkward silence for a bit, not really knowing what to say. To be fair, we were already drifting apart before the incident. I tap my feet for a little before Steve opens his mouth to finally say something intelligent. 

"I never apologized for.. hitting you and calling you crazy, did I?" 

"You didn't." 

"Well, I'm sorry," he says, not sounding too sincere. 

A better apology would be nice but I won't ask for one. 

I should, because his apology fucking sucked, but I'm the one who wanted to reunite so I'm not really in any position to make demands.

"Thank you," I say, instead of 'it's okay,' because it's not okay. Steve knows that but I need him to know that he won't get away with something like that ever again. 

I look around; something I've been doing periodically since we got here. There's only a few other people in here. A pair of girls. Sisters, probably. They look alike. They look tired. That's relatable. I'm sure I don't look great. I've been pretty stressed. Haven't been sleeping real well. 

Two parents and their small child. Can't tell if it's a boy or a girl. The clothes are pretty gender neutral. A gray shirt and some blue overalls. Probably a boy, actually. Not that it matters. The parents look happy, for some reason. Can't imagine why. It sounds awful, having to look after and care for such a tiny, fragile, needy thing like a baby. Maybe that's why Steve felt the need to start dating. He didn't want to look after me anymore, so he found an excuse to be out of the house often. 

I wonder how my parents felt about children. I don't really remember them. There's a lot I don't remember about before I fell off the train.

"Bucky?" Steve's voice comes out of nowhere and I feel a hand on my face, pushing it a little. "You with me?"

"I'm with you," I promise, pushing his hand off my face. 

"Good, because you're making that family over there really uncomfortable with your staring." 

"Oh. Sorry." 

"Are you okay? You don't seem like you're... all there today." 

"I'm just tired. Did you see the whole mess that happened with John Walker?" 

"Yeah. I didn't see that coming." 

"I did. Do you want the shield back?" 

He looks like he's thinking about it. I hope he says yes. Otherwise, I'll have to figure out what to do with it. Steve is the only person responsible enough to have it, so if he doesn't want it, it should be destroyed. But it can't be, so I'll probably bury it somewhere. 

"No. I don't want it." 

"Why not?" 

"I'm retired," he explains lamely. "I don't want to be Captain America anymore. That's why I gave it to Sam; so he could be Captain America." 

"He doesn't want to be Captain America," I argue. "That's why he gave it away." 

"Then you be Captain America." 

What a ridiculous suggestion. Captain America is supposed to be the epitome of greatness. There is nothing great about me, nor is there anything great about John Walker. Steve is the only person good enough to be Captain America. 

"I can't." An explanation equally lame as his.

"Why?" 

"I don't know, I just can't." 

I can't really explain it without sounding real insecure. It's not that I'm insecure, though, I'm just not Captain America. 

"Sure, you can! I mean, you're pretty much the same person as me; you're just..." He trails off. Just what? What am I, Steve?

So many intrusive thoughts immediately swoop in to fill in the blank. We're the same person, except I'm just evil. Except I'm just crazy. I'm just not nearly as perfect as Steve is. 

He makes an incredibly vague hand gesture, probably to signify that he can't think of a word. Except he probably can think of a word and that word is most likely one of the ones swirling around in my mind right now. 

"You're just older," he finishes. 

"I'm older?" I repeat, laughing even though it kills me to know that 'older' definitely was not one of things that he thinks separates us. "That's the only thing that's different about our personalities? I'm older?" 

He's laughing now, too. Good. I wouldn't want to ruin this by letting him know how much I suddenly can't stand to be near him. 

"Yeah," he chuckles with a hand on his chest. "Pretty much. Oh, man, I missed you. I haven't laughed this hard in months." 

An alarm goes off on his phone and he's startled for a second, then looks at me apologetically. 

"I'm really sorry about this, Bucky, but I promised Natasha I'd go out to lunch with her and 'a friend.' She keeps trying to set me up with people she knows for a fact aren't HYDRA."

"That's alright," I tell him, even though it's kind of annoying that he scheduled that at the same time as this. 

We go outside to part ways and right as he gets on his motorcycle, I blurt out, "I love you." 

"I love you too," he says, smiling. "You know that. You're my best friend."

Right. Friend. 

I smile, too, and hope it does look too forced. It seems to convince him, but I drop it the second he drives away.

(I rewrote this three times and I still hate it but I don't know what I need to change about it.)