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Bucky Barnes is born on March 10th, 1917, with the words “Really, my meth addiction is a blessing in disguise” scrawled across his collarbone.
It’s a cause for amusement while Bucky grows up. Nobody really knows what meth is; Steve surmise that it might be a spelling error, and instead was meant to say math, which makes Bucky laugh.
“Hey!” Steve protests, “Even fate can mess up once in a while!”
Steve is lucky, though; he has an uncomplicated soulmate-mark, a simple Uh-huh, on my left, I got it.
Steve doesn’t have to worry about his soulmate being addicted to- to- Bucky doesn’t even know what. It sounds like a fruit, to be honest.
They grow up, Steve and Bucky, and although they might not be legal soulmates, they are in every way that counts. Emotionally, mentally, it’s impossible to imagine two people who are closer friends.
Then, of course, Bucky gets drafted, and everything kind of sucks, in more way the one. First of all, Bucky goes from living with Steve to getting a letter once every couple of weeks. And secondly, Bucky discovers what meth is.
“Methamphetamine- meth, for short- is a stimulant,” the medic explains to the new recruits. “If you’re on a long, or particularly difficult mission, you might get prescribed a small amount. However, it’s incredibly addictive. People with meth addictions can be very violent, and it can lead to auditory and visual hallucinations, so we keep a tight handle on our supplies.”
She says all this casually, probably having given this lecture a thousand times; in the crowd, Bucky’s blood runs cold.
Steve,
I found out what meth is. It’s a drug that they give us to keep us awake out here. People with addictions are really messed up- the medic said they can get hallucinations and shit. I’m struggling to support the two of us, much less a third person. Let’s just hope your soulmate is a rich heiress or something, who knows. Maybe I’ll find my soulmate out here in the army.
I loved the sketch you sent last time. It’s in my pocket right now.
I’ll try to write again soon.
-Bucky
Azzano happens, and Zola pumps him full of so many drugs that now Bucky is the person with a meth addiction. He manages to get over it with a combination of support from Steve (that whole Captain America situation is a thing that we are not talking about holy fuCK STEVE DON’T JUST GIVE YOURSELF UP FOR EXPERMIMENTATION), incessant teasing from the Howling Commandos, and Peggy being an absolute stone wall. It’s not easy, though, and his previous resentment towards his soulmate turns into more- sympathy, perhaps. They’re going to get through this together, Bucky tells himself sternly, even though he doesn’t know who the other half of ‘they’ is.
Despite being around troops, camps, and on missions for several months straight- and most of the Howling Commandos relying on at least some meth to get through the missions- nobody says Bucky’s Words.
And then Bucky falls, and ends up back in the labs. At this point he’s actively hoping that nobody says his Words. How much would that suck? Trapped in neighboring cells, perhaps, and they only have a few precious nights together before one of them is dragged off and-
The technicians find his soulmate mark amusing, if not worrying.
“What if he finds his soulmate on a mission?” one of them asks one day, and the handlers just smile.
“A soulmate bond needs both words spoken to be ratified, correct? So, we simply never allow him to reply.” They bring out this mask for him, a horrible, black muzzle. He wears it whenever he is out of cryofreeze; any spoken words are answered with swift and cruel punishment.
It works, and the Asset is kept muzzled for dozens of years, until-
The Asset is on an elimination mission. The target is stronger, faster, better, than anyone the Asset has ever fought before. He causes annoying flashes in the Asset’s minds, small voices screaming at him to pull his punches, to protect.
The voices cause the Asset to slip, to drop his guard, and he is flipped backwards. He hits the pavement just right, and-
The mask slips off.
He draws in a deep breath, the first taste of fresh air the Asset has had in years, no, decades, and turns to face the target.
“Bucky?” The target asks, seemingly horrified, and the Asset- the Soldier- the Sargent- Bucky?- cannot respond.
The Asset is wiped, re-set, and sent back out again. They don’t bother with the mask, this time. He fights the target, pulling his punches- not because he wants to, but because he can’t hurt this man. He can’t kill this man, this angel, this person who brings flashes of light and happiness and didn’t you used to be smaller? into the Asset’s mind.
The target falls.
Angels should not fall.
The Asset retrieves him, ensures that the angel is safe, breathing, alive, then runs away from the world.
The Asset visits the museum and discovers that the angel is Steve Rogers, a name which makes the Asset’s Bucky’s head hurt in a strangely good way.
Bucky listens to swing music, his feet tapping out complicated patterns that he knows only by instinct.
Bucky remembers, and recovers, and burns Hydra to the fucking ground for what they did to him.
Steve finds him as he’s standing, watching the last Hydra warehouse smolder into nothing. It’s been fourteen long months, full of death and freedom and vengeance.
Bucky’s ready to go home.
It’s on the quinjet ride back (because that’s a thing, apparently) when Steve reaches for something, his shirt sleeve pulling up, and- holy shit.
Steve’s words have turned from light grey to black. Uh-huh, on my left, I got it stands out like ink against his pale skin. Bucky makes a choked-off noise, full of surprise and happiness and confusion, because Steve found his soulmate! but also Steve found his soulmate?
Steve follows his line of sight to his words, and smiles a brilliant, sunshine smile.
“Y- you found your soulmate?” Bucky asks hesitantly.
“Oh, Buck, you’ll love him. He’s- uh- his name is Sam.” Steve pulls up a photo on his phone (the future is weird), and although Hydra has fractured Bucky’s mind into millions of pieces, Bucky can still just tell that the man in the photo is a good person.
Here’s the thing, with Bucky and Steve. They knew they weren’t soulmates. But everyone has best friends and co-workers and acquaintances and everything, as well as soulmates. Bucky fills a hole in Steve’s life that his soulmate, no matter who they are, will never be able to fill; Steve’s the exact same for him. Steve’s soulmate- this Sam – will give something to Steve that Bucky doesn’t have the capacity for, and that’s okay.
Bucky sits back, lets Steve gush on and on about Sam, he’s so nice, Bucky, works at the VA- that stands for Veterans Affairs. You- uh- met him, before, he has the wings? But he’s not mad about you kind of almost killing him, Buck, I promise, he’s a really good guy, you’ll get along so well. And anyway-
Steve takes him home, guides him gently to a towering, glass-encrusted New York City that Bucky doesn’t completely recognize. It’s beautiful, futuristic, and strange, but you can never change the heart of the city. It’s still brash, still loud, and still smells like trash.
Steve takes him to the tallest building, right in the center, which towers over the others and shouts STARK TOWER from the top.
They take an elevator ride up, up, further than Bucky’s ever been, Steve chattering away nervously the whole time
“We’re- uh- we’re going to meet Tony Stark,” Steve says, “This is his tower. If he says something weird to you, just ignore it- he hasn’t found his soulmate yet, and he’s determined to give them some horrible soulmark, so yeah. He’s Howard Stark’s son? We met Howard, a couple of times- he made my shield.”
Bucky nods, remembering flashes of arrogance and genius and- a moustache?
The doors ding open to reveal a nice, homey lounge. There’s a man sitting on the arm of a couch, despite all the seats being completely free, fiddling with one of those modern phones. He’s managing to look scruffy, elegant, and adorable in a bespoke suit all at once.
“Uh, Tony?” Steve says hesitantly.
“Hmm, yeah?” he answers, distracted, tapping furiously away.
“This is Bucky.” The man’s brow furrows, as if this is just distantly registering, before looking up and making eye contact with Bucky.
Tony opens his mouth, and says
And says-
“Really, my meth addiction is a blessing in disguise.”
Steve takes a sharp breath from beside him.
Tony Stark is his soulmate.
What the ever-loving fuck.
Bucky’s just done.
Bucky is exhausted, he has a dozen aches, and he finished taking down the organization that is his sworn enemy, like, fourteen hours ago. He is in desperate need of a shower, he hasn’t eaten anything but ramen in two weeks, and he does not have the energy to deal with this man- this soulmate- right now.
“Oh, fuck you,” Bucky says tiredly, and they both freeze, staring at each other when their soul-marks burn, the bond solidifying. He doesn’t have to check to know that his Words are now a solid black.
Steve tactfully retreats, making the executive decision to let them figure their shit out.
Bucky takes a closer look, and his initial assessment is accurate- the man is adorable. And currently lost for words, apparently, mouth working as he stares at Bucky. Large brown eyes, curls that Bucky wants to run his hand through, and those hands- those hands, they tell a story. They’re strong, littered with scars, and absolutely beautiful, just like the rest of him.
Bucky steps a bit closer.
“I didn’t mean that,” Bucky says guiltily. “I’m sorry.” The guilt immediately twists in his stomach, curling around and around, stabbing him from the inside. God, what has he done? What kind of person makes their soulmate grow up with Oh, fuck you on their skin?
But Stark- Tony- Bucky’s soulmate just smiles a brilliant smile that makes happiness flood Bucky’s veins, drags him out of the depressive spiral.
“God, I’m so glad you’re a sassy shit,” Tony says, “I could never deal with some complacent ass-kisser.”
Bucky smiles back and knows, knows, that everything’s going to be okay. It might not be good right now, he might be tired and a bit bloody and he might stink like an alley cat, but he has Steve, and Steve has Sam, and Bucky has Tony. Adorable, intelligent, quippy Tony, who’s getting this mischievous look in his eye, and Bucky barely has time to question what it means before they’re kissing.