Haye. Just thought I should warn you some! I don't speak English as my main language, so just keep that in mind. Also every mentioned character belongs to MARVEL and their rightful owners. Thank you! Also, every kind of feedback is highly welcomed and appreciated.

Enjoy the wintershield!

Cold, gray walls with marks of gun-shots here and there.

Steve takes a step further and sits down in the chair beside him, which is creaking warningly by his heavy weight. He ignores it.

In front of him there's a man sitting on a gurney. His face is tilting down, and his dark messy hair's covering his eyes. He wears nothing but a pair of black pants and his metal arm is shining vaguely in the yellow light of a light bulb.

Steve swallows hard and has to stay silent for a minute, to concentrate so he won't just walk up to him and wrap his arms around the dirty, wounded body.
After a few second he opens his mouth. "Hey, bud"

The man looks up. His brown eyes are blank and empty, like he don't really see what's in front of him. There's no anger, no fear, not the slightest feeling behind that black and brown pit of emptiness.

Steve has to swallow again.

"I don't know you"

The voice is monotone, but Steve is sure, oh yes, he is so sure that it's the voice he's heard so many times before. He can't do anything but keep his hopes up.

"Yeah, you do Bucky. You've done it since we were kids."

The brown haired man just keeps staring at him.

"I don't know how many times I've told you. I'm not that fucking Bucky. And I thought this was supposed to be a peaceful cell, not a damn interrogation."

"It isn't. Just listen to me, please. Fury doesn't know I'm here. Natasha helped me blocking out those cameras and I just snuck in when no one was around. This isn't an interrogation; this is me talking to you. You don't have to answer, just let me talk. "

He's taking a great risk saying those words, Steve knows that. Bucky can just attack him any moment and escape, now that he know the truth. But he convinces himself that this was exactly what he has to do to make this work.

The winter soldier leans his back against the wall and eyes the blonde carefully.
He doesn't look convinced.

"If this now is true… Why are you telling me-?"

Steve's almost interrupting him with his quick answer. "Because I trust you"

Bucky snorts.

"Look" Steve leans forwards, elbows on his knees and eyes focusing on his friend on the gurney, "I'm only going to talk for a couple of minutes here. Just stay where you are and listen, okay? If you're not Bucky, as you say – then I'll just walk out of here when I'm done. I'll leave you. You'll never see me again; just give me this chance, okay?"

He wants to move closer, but he knows that he can't. That will probably break it all.

The brown haired man doesn't look at him, but Steve can see how his shoulders sink down from his prepared-for-attack-mode to more relaxed, and he mumbles, "Okay, go."

And Steve starts.

"1934. There was a tiny, scrawny boy. He didn't know there'd be another war in 8 years, he'd already lost his dad in the Great War and his mother had died just after. He refused to admit how broken he actually was. He refused to show anyone how much he really cried. But he wasn't as alone as he thought he was…"

Steve's talking. And talking. For at least five minutes it feels like he's just failing himself, like the man by the wall don't listen at all, but when he reaches the part where he meets Bucky, the winter soldier turns his head and looks him right in the eyes.

He doesn't know if it's a sign of interest or a sign of tiredness. But he keeps on going.

He continues to talk, slowly. Telling about the time when they went to the dance and he ended up getting his face punched, accused for trying to steal a girl he'd never seen before. And then the time when they laid in the grass and drank his father's old whiskey until they couldn't even see the stars anymore. And then the time when they accidentally put Bucky's carpet on fire by tilting a candle over when telling ghost stories.

"They both got older. Became young men, even though the boy probably still was too small to be called a man. He was jealous of his friend's cigarettes. He couldn't smoke, because of his asthma, so every time he smelled the sweet and murky smell of tobacco, he breathed in as much as he could in hope of getting his lounges more used to it. Then maybe one day he'd be able to take a cigarette or two. One day when he went over to his friend's house he found a pack of smokes on the bench in the hallway. The jealousy almost drove him crazy. He had to take one, and just try…"

At first, Steve thinks he's imagining things, but no, Bucky is actually smiling in the other side of the room. His dry lips have curled up in a slight smirk, which of course makes the captain slow down a bit, but he keeps on talking as soon as he realizes.

He can't stop now.

"He put his lips around the cigarette and breathed in one time, which was enough. He ended up on the floor, coughing and coughing, unable to speak of yell for his friend. When the finally entered the room he found the young man lying on the floor and threw himself over him, giving him CPR and massaging his chest to help him breathe normally. The man refused to go to the hospital. It took one hour until he could breathe as normal as before, that time spent outside. His friend was worried sick. When the horror show was over they laid back in the grass, scared and shocked, laughing and crying, holding hands and ranting about everything and nothing just to keep their thoughts away from the fact that the young man actually could have died."

Bucky mumbles something but Steve keeps on talking, too scared to stop.

"They did nothing but lay in the wet grass the whole evening. America had just joined the war, and they both were going to sign up to join the army the following week. They knew. Yet they were just lying there, doing nothing, looking at the darkening sky without moving a limb. When it was fully dark and they both could spot stars, the older one rolled over on his side and looked his friend in his eyes. The young man asked what he was doing and he didn't answer, instead he leaned forwards and brushed their lips together, softly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world."

Steve stops and looks at the brown haired man. His eyes are still cold, but something has changed, something is different. He can't really spot what.

"This is where you're supposed to stop me and say that you're not interested in hearing my fairy-stories."

Bucky doesn't answer at first. He bites his lip with a troubled look on his face, then nods and murmurs; "Continue"
Which actually is too much for Steve to handle. His voice is not quite as steady as before when he continues.

"They kissed in the grass without knowing what was really going on. They didn't know if they would get recruited, but they knew that there was a war on its way. Maybe they wouldn't get to see each other again. They kissed and kissed and of course, one thing led to the other. So many feelings they'd never really understood before was now exposed, and it made them both so vulnerable they had to cling on to each other no matter what it cost. They were both dirty and tired when got inside later on, and they washed themselves and went to bed, never really taking their hands off each other. Just when the young man was about to fall asleep with his friends warm, safe arms around him, he could hear him whisper something. Just a simple sentence he'd remember for the rest of his life. He'd heard it before, but it was now he really understood the depth."

Steve's blinking away the tears as discretely as he can. He's surprised that he still can speak with such a calm voice when his stomach is twisting so much.
He takes a deep, deep breath, gathering himself.

"'I'll be with you till the end of the line'"

The winter soldier doesn't move a muscle.

But further up Steve can tell that his eyes, yes his eyes shows something different. They are watery, looking like the man's going to break from the inside at any minute.

"He wasn't with you till the end of the line" his lips mumbles, not very loud but loud enough for Steve to hear, and he stands up immediately.

"No, he wasn't"
It's a mere whisper.

"It was you. You're the boy. The young man."

"Yes, I am."

He takes a step closer, feels every single drop of blood rush through his body like a waterfall. His mind is at chaos, but Bucky keeps on talking, he's the one telling the story now. He's the one deciding how it should end.

"It… He joined the army… You couldn't … You… Were too tiny, too brittle"

He is stuttering, and Steve can't stand it anymore. He walks up to his gurney and sits down beside his dark figure, and Bucky doesn't do anything to stop him. He keeps staring in front of him as he's speaking out loud, words that has no meaning and yet mean so much for them.

"Y-you saved him…"

Steve grabs his hand.
Bucky looks up.

"Steve-?"

He's back.

"Bucky…"

"Fuck, Steve— Steve, shit is this…"

"Bucky—"

It feels like someone has lit him on fire. He wraps his arms around Bucky's now sniffling figure and holds him, just holds him, never ready to let him go ever again.

"They froze me… I didn't—they were the enemy, and I didn't know..."

"Hush…"

It's nearly impossible for Steve to think. More like a dream, and he's almost prepared to wake up and be back in his apartment, but nothing happens luckily enough.

Bucky is still stuttering some things that doesn't make sense, names and places and a few things in Russian, making Steve's thin t-shirt wet by tears and snot, but he can't care less.

"You've been gone for so long…" he whispers.

"Shit, I'm so sorry… I couldn't remember… I almost killed you Steve, fuck—"

"Don't think about it. Don't."

They can't really take their hands off each other. Half an hour has gone and Steve remembers thinking that one more half is enough for him to show Bucky how much he's been missing him. How much he's caring.

"You died. Right in front of me. Jesus Buck, do you have any idea of what that does to a person?"

They're both silent, clinging on to each other like the world depended on it. Steve can't help but touch. Shoulders, spine, back...

Bucky's reacting to every touch. He's desperate for Steve's body, clinging on to it like it's his only need for survival. Their foreheads smash together a little too harshly, but neither of them cares. Frankly, there are little things at the moment that's got any meaning.

They're so hungry. Pathetically, immensely hungry.

Steve's brushing his lips over Bucky's, and they're softer than they look from a distance. They nibble and bite and Bucky puts a hand in the nape of Steve's neck while pushing him down on the gurney, making it shake warningly.

They keep kissing, touching, a million thoughts running through Steve's head and at least half of them are doubtful, but the sound of a quiet moan on his own lips distracts him from all the doubt.

"God, Bucky—"

Bucky's kissing down his neck, hands pulling the t-shirt, wanting it way off the Steve's body. Since he's already shirtless himself, Steve's hands are all over his muscular torso, abdomen and back. He claws down with his nails, pants already way too tight; he's in need of release.

"Please" he whispers and Bucky moans to the sound, ripping his shirt off and placing a trail of wet kisses down his collarbone and over his chest. His whole body is tingling by the touch.

Bucky's hands are reaching his waistband and they're fumbling with the zipper until it finally gives in, and Steve can breathe out. Also his pants are on the floor in a second and Bucky's all over him again, touching, feeling, making up for all those years they were apart.

It's going to take a while but it'll be worth it.

His lips move from hipbone to hipbone, quickly over his navel and then down along a straight line. When he reaches Steve's boxers he keeps kissing over them, on the warm erected dick under the fabric and Steve's body is shivering from the touch. His blood is pumping fast and beyond control.

And it feels so extremely, fantastically good. If he could, he'd let the whole world hear.

And slowly, Bucky pulls down his underwear too and grabs him with one hand, warm and strong, and starts stroking. It's so good Steve gets problems breathing, and for a moment he almost thinks his asthma's returned – even though he knows that's impossible.

Bucky's moving slowly and carefully, but his grip is determined and there's something in his motions that makes Steve shiver even more, pleasure running through his body, making him gasp for breath.

"Yes—God, Bucky—" He moans, and grabs a handful of brown hair.

He's not quite ready when warm lips close around the tip of his member, the human hand still stroking his shaft. It's so much he has to bite his forearm to not scream out, eyes getting watery when he realizes how much he's really been missing all this. Bucky's body. Bucky's movements, Bucky's mouth…

He bites one more time when Bucky takes all of him inside his mouth, sucking greedily and making Steve feel like he's about to explode any minute.

"D-don't… I'm gonna—"

Bucky doesn't stop at first, but slows down his speed and finally lets go before Steve's about to cry out for mercy again.

"Can't let you go that easily" the brunet murmurs on his way up to his lovers face, kissing his collarbone, jawline and finally lips. He leans to the left and whispers with a dark, hoarse voice; "I need to feel you inside me first. God, I've been waiting for—"

Just the words are enough to make Steve swallow hard, his erection twitching lightly.

They're so hungry, ripping Bucky's pants and underwear off in just one move and then they're both naked on the thin mattress, hands on each other like they're magnets.
And maybe they are.

Bucky's straddling Steve, hands cupping his face and lips tasting a bit salty as they kiss hungrily.

One of Steve's hands are moving down to grip his lover's hard dick, feeling the weight and shape of it before starting to stroke up and down and he can hear Bucky's breaths into his own mouth as they get quicker and quicker. He almost starts panting.
His other hand moves down by his back, painting circles with his fingers, feeling the soft skin over his cheek.
His fingers move deeper down until one of them is reaching Bucky's opening, and he starts to draw circles around it instead.

"I need to feel you" he whispers and moves his hips upwards a bit.

"I've got to have you inside me now, or I'm gonna die Steve…"

"We haven't got any lube"

"It's alright. It's worth it, just do it properly—"

He's always been doing it properly. From the first time, till what he thought was the last, and he wouldn't disappoint now either.

He lets one finger slide to Bucky's entrance and circle around a bit, massaging before letting it enter carefully. Bucky's gasp is loud enough to make him understand that he is doing right, and he keeps moving. After a while that feels okay for them both, he adds another finger, and after some more time another. They communicate in between, mumbles a few "is this okay?" and "is this nice?" and Bucky always answers "yes" and "god Steve, yes it is".

Finally, Steve moves his dick towards Bucky's entrance; the pre-cum on the tip making it easier for him to slide in, and Bucky bites his lip hard although they take it as slow and as carefully as they can.

The blonde gasps. He feels like he's going to pass out if he can't come right away, but he still tries to gather himself. Bucky's mouth hangs open and he moans softly as they start to move. Slow at first, then faster. A warm hand is wrapped around his shaft, his body shivers by pleasure.

It is paradise, it really is. Bucky's eyes are watery as he claw down Steve's back, panting in his ear, whispering words he'd always wanted to say but by the circumstances, never could have.

"I'm.. I-I'm about to—" He whispers with an iron fist full of his blonde hair.

That's the limit for them both. Steve starts moving quicker, and it takes less than a minute for him to start feeling how his body's twitching, aching and the familiar rush of blood through his veins as he throws his head back in ecstasy.

"Fuck! B-buck…" he pleads and finally releases, letting everything just go, go, go.

It feels like it's been ages and he's probably never experienced something so good in a very, very long time.

Steve keeps moving through it all, his hand still stroking up and down along Bucky's dick. It only takes a couple of seconds for him to come too, wet and hungry for release. He's biting Steve's earlobe while crying out, aware of that he's probably too loud, but none of them gives a damn if the whole department would rush in through the door.

Steve's tired and still regaining his breath when Bucky falls on top of him, exhausted and sweaty and soaked.

They lay on the mattress. Steve's only realizing that he's crying when the brunet's head is on his own level, and he's looking at him strangely.

"Are you alright?" his hoarse voice mumbles.

"Yea, yea…"

Steve clears his throat and runs his fingers through Bucky's dirty locks, burying his face in them. They're stiff, not as soft as his short thatch used to be back in the 40's. And he doesn't smell like he used to.
He doesn't know if it's the new century or just the mud, but he can't wait until Bucky gets rid of all the dirt and sweat. Maybe he'll start smelling like himself again.

"Can't wait until we get home" he whispers.

Bucky looks up in his eyes. "Can we go… You know, home? To Brooklyn?"

"I don't know. I live here now, at least. Close to all… This." He makes a gesture towards the rest of the room.

"The superhero-stuff?"

"You know about it?"

Bucky nods. Of course. He's been alive, updated, and even though he hasn't been himself he's at least gotten information about his targets and possible enemies. Anything that seems like a threat – and the Avengers are probably the top priority on that list.

"I don't know, maybe I should stay here and let them take care of me. The professionals, y'know."

He doesn't look Steve in the eyes.
But he can figure out what he's thinking anyway.

"Buck, none of this was your fault. You were blindly following orders, nothing else."

"That's what scares me, Steve. I couldn't remember who I was. I thought I'd always been like that. Just… Empty. Cold. Do you have any idea of how many people I've killed?"

Steve swallows. He doesn't want to think about it, but more importantly, he doesn't want Bucky to think about it. They'll make it right again.

"It wasn't you" he repeats, "It was Dr. Zola. You're here now, Bucky. And I know that you'd never do anything like that."

They lay silent for a while, just playing with their entwined fingers and kiss swollen lips. It's the moment Steve's been waiting for since he first realized who the Winter Soldier was. He'd never really lost his hope.

"I love you"

Bucky smiles tiredly, eyes closed and chest moving normally as he breathes. "Ya lyublyu tebya vsem serdtsem"

Steve laughs and strokes his hair, "you're gonna have to spell that out for me later"

"Gladly"

They lay so close.

Closer than they've ever been.

And Steve smiles as he thinks that no one's gonna tear them apart, ever again.

"Agent Hill, get over here and bring back-up. It's Rogers. He's broken in to the prisoner's cell."

Fury thinks he can hear a quiet sigh in the background before Maria answers "Got it", and he can really relate to her feelings at the heat of the moment.

That damn Rogers thinking he's something, prepared to sacrifice himself just to get another guy from the 40's back.

"I'll tell him something" Fury mutters to himself as four armed men dressed in S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms join up by his sides, "that fucking assassin isn't going to change."

"Don't break his heart, boss."

It's Maria. She's right behind him, ready with a gun in her left hand and a knife in her belt. "He's 90 years old after all."

They both stand back as one of the agents kick in the door. Fury's the first one to step his foot inside the cold, almost empty room.

By the left wall there's sitting a man on the gurney. His brown hair is laid back in a better-looking position than the last time he saw him, and his eyes are glistening in the dim light.

Everyone points their guns at him.

The winter soldier's putting his hands in the air, lips curling up in a calm smile.

It's fucking annoying.

"Good morning, boss" he says, the voice sounding different from the interrogations Fury's been listening to.

Could it be?

The man keeps talking.

"The name's James. James Buchanan Barnes. But I'll be nice—you can call me Bucky, tovarishch. I served in the US army in 1942, on the side of the handsome Captain America – ever heard of him? He saved me from Dr. Zola's lab back at the HYDRA base, but we knew each other long before that, Steve and I. Childhood friends. I fell from a train on one of our missions and everyone, including him, thought I died."

The agents had lowered their weapons and were just staring at him; some of them had even opened mouths like they were taken from some damn cartoon.

This wasn't a joke.

It was real.

"This is my comeback."

Bucky smirked.

"Hello America."

Thank you for reading, it really means a lot!

Oh, and Fury couldn't believe his eye. He was furyous.
(Yes I am crying by laughter)
Ciao!