Steve kept the apartment, after everything. All in all, it was familiar – and more important than that, he figured that if Bucky had found him there once, he could find him there again, if he ever needed to. If he ever wanted to find someone, instead of Steve being the one to find him.

Sure, Stark had offered him a place in the tower, but for one thing, what he wanted right now was to be normal, and to show America that Captain America was just an average guy like anyone else they'd meet. The other thing was that it was often trying enough dealing with Howard's son on the occasional basis, and he was sure that they'd get on each other's nerves far too easily in such close proximity.

The first time his place was broken into was about two weeks later, and all of his reflexes were still on high alert. The window had been replaced already, but there were other things that were out of place or still waiting to be patched up. And then he'd come up to the door, heard someone already inside when he hadn't been expecting anyone, and made the trip round the back way, in through the window, into the living area.

He'd seen a seemingly regular guy in his home, but the next thing he knew, the man was on the floor underneath him, and squealing about how he hadn't known it was his home, because man, he wouldn't have dared if he'd known it was where Captain America lived.

Steve had let the guy get up, had told him maybe don't try robbing anyone, not just him, and walked him down to the station.

The next time someone tried to break in, he was there, he'd just come back from a mission nearly gone sour, and wasn't in the mood.

In the end, it'd helped some to know that the intruder had actually been a late to the party spy from the enemy – stress relief, if nothing else.

Home invasions were infrequent generally, but he dealt with them on a case-by-case basis.

And then, there was the one time he'd come home, not noticed anything off, opened the door, only to see a man already sitting in one of his chairs.

The silhouette was familiar. It niggled at him, like a word on the tip of his tongue. And yet at the same time it was nothing too out of the ordinary, if it weren't for the fact that it was in his home, uninvited. Tracksuit bottoms, trainers, hoodie, baseball cap. Fairly similar to what he'd worn undercover himself at least once.

It was only when the head looked up, the hand (both gloved, even though it wasn't cold weather and they were inside) waving a crumpled looking flyer for the old Smithsonian exhibit in a stilted sort of way, as though it wasn't used to such trivial ways of moving yet, that Steve's brain halted from trying to figure out how to throw this one out.

"They moved it," Bucky said. He sounded confused, and annoyed.

Maybe he was still the Winter Solder, in some ways. But to Steve, no matter what others called him, Bucky would always be Bucky. No matter what.

"Coffee?"

It was all he could think of. Months had gone by, and nothing. More months had gone by, and the leads had started to dry up. Time had begun to drag on, and he'd started to wonder if, despite the data and the feeling in his gut saying otherwise, his old friend was gone somehow. Or that he didn't want to be found, and no force on earth would make him come back.

Or worse, he'd been found by the wrong people again. That one haunted his dreams.

Bucky blinked at him, and nodded, slowly.

Coffee for two it was, then. And although he wanted desperately to share stories like old times, to have the old Bucky back again, awkward silences while they weren't trying to kill each other would be enough, for now.

….

AN: Title taken from the 'Little Bo Peep' poem. I thought it fitted - although Bucky's not much of a sheep, he still came 'home' at the end of it.

There was the original plan to have Bucky be a repeat offender, and this becomes a common occurrence, but I'll leave that as heavily implied.