.

.

It happens like a slow-winding, clockwork sequence, but in reverse.

People begin appearing where they supposedly died. Nick Fury contacts them, asking about Captain Marvel and if the threat is gone. It is. Steve witnessed the battle himself, on the outskirts, and how this strong, brave woman took on Thanos by herself and used the forgotten seventh stone — the Ego Stone — and annihilated him, undoing the effects of Thanos's havoc.

Natasha and Tony concern themselves about the safekeeping of the Infinity Stones, aligning themselves with the newest Avenger and with the reminder of Guardians after they all rematerialized back on the planet of Titan, as well as Doctor Strange and Peter Parker.

It makes sense in a way. Reversing the damage. The last amount of people and aliens to turn the dust in the universe would be among the /irst to be resurrected.

A flutter of panic and terror still lingers in Steve's chest as he wanders out further into the thickened overgrowth, roughly pushing aside the lush green leaves, treading the remoteness of Wakanda's jungle and calling out for Bucky. There's no sign of him.

Dusk approaches.

T'Challa and his warriors head for the nearby enclosure, relieved to be wakened and breathing.

But Steve remembers ashes, and how they spilled and coating between his armored, blue gloves like a fine dust. Remembers the guttural, emotional-driven howl escaping his lips once alone.

"Bucky—!"

Greenery trembles in front of Steve's eyes. The noises of twigs snapping and crushing under boots. "Steve?" Bucky calls out softly, his brows furrowing. He nearly careens backwards at the dense, muscular force of Steve colliding into him, hoisting Bucky to his toes and hugging him.

A ragged, wheezing laugh.

"Don't ever—" Steve mumbles between a hot, spit-sticky kiss, "—do that to me—" framing his bare palms over Bucky's darkly stubbed cheeks, "—again."

He can't relive 1944, or any day where Bucky disappeared on him or had been captured by their enemies.

There will always be danger and Steve knows he will always face it. He has to.

But they have to do it together or Steve know he will struggle without Bucky there. Just like Bucky has struggled without him before, purposely isolating himself, hollowed out, deep in his grief and guilt. Bucky said he didn't know if he was worth all of this, and Steve knows he is.

Bucky's mouth goes pliant against his, inhaling sharply. "You're such a goddamn punk," he grumbles, hooking his arms around Steve's torso and eyeing him as Steve offers a wide grin.

"Jerk."

.

.

Tears shed. Steve does his best to not point out his own, or the ones rolling down Bucky's face, while they're wrapped up in each other, grinding hips and writhing, moaning louder.

It's a quiet, confined area of the building. The sheets don't smell like anything, except Bucky's warm body and the mingling of their semen, when Steve wipes off the tip of his reddened, oversensitized cock, feeling a trickle of fluid cooling between his inner thighs when he relaxes himself.

"Remember Billy 'The Big Man' Bobson? Right before enlisting?"

At the question, Bucky rolls over, facing him as an expressionless Steve remains seated on the edge of mattress. He feels Bucky's organic hand trailing up his naked, sweat-slick back mindfully. Felt right to have Bucky inside him again, all of that heat and skin, listening to him come apart. "Yeah, he broke your nose when you refused to mind your own business."

"He was beating his girl. And you broke his ribs while swinging that carnival mallet," Steve points out, offering an amused half-smile. "He fell on top of the pivot so hard it rattled the bell loose and conked him on the head. Think I ended up having an asthma attack from laughing."

"Figures," Bucky mutters.

It's not dismissive, not with the smirk, and he makes a low, humming noise when Steve moves closer, touching a hand over his chest, lightly dragging over Bucky's scars.

"You were looking out for me, Buck. And I've tried to do the same," Steve responds, going for the earnest truth. "I don't wanna do this anymore. I don't want to lose you. I just want us to be safe wherever it is."

Bucky's eyes narrow. "Steve, that sounds a lot like…"

"It's not running away," he insists. At the disbelieving stare, Steve leans out, releasing a gruff, exasperated sigh. "It's running towards something, Bucky. Something good."

A moment of silence passes. Bucky nods, grasping onto Steve's fingers and tugging him back in.

"You know what, yeah. Yeah." Hearing this, Steve drops his head down against Bucky's side and closes his eyes, relieved. "Let's do it," Bucky whispers, draping his silver-gleaming prosthetic over Steve's head comfortably. "I'm tired of running anyway."

That's what they both need at the end of the war.

Peace.

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Marvel isn't mine. It took me a little while to post but here we are! It's ready to go! I love angsty stuff so I hope you all enjoy this. We need a happy ending for Stucky. I am here to try and deliver it sorta realistically,,,, sorta. Anywhoooo! I was participating in the Captain America Secret Santa this year and had been assigned mcu-owns-my-ass from Tumblr! Please enjoy and any thoughts/comments are very very welcome! Scream to me how much you love Stucky cause same asjkndfj