Chapter Text
When Steve Rogers first met Bucky Barnes' great-granddaughter, his reaction was not what anybody expected.
He was shocked, naturally. It was supposed to be a pleasant surprise; or at least that was what Beth Miller had told herself in the aftermath. Instead, the revelation seemed to knock the floor out from under his feet.
He staggered backwards- a rare show of vulnerability from a figure so long upheld as superhuman. His surprise quickly morphed into anger, then disgust, before landing somewhere between heartbreak and devastation.
It was left to the Barnes descendant herself, the poor girl, to explain exactly where she had come from.
"Turns out he accidentally got my great-grandma pregnant, but before she had the chance to tell him she was shipped off to a convent, and he was sent to war." She paused, well rehearsed enough in telling the story to expect some sort of reaction, but none came. All he offered was a stony silence, and an unreadable stare. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, my Grandmother grew up knowing who her dad was, and then my mom told me the story, and I completely refused to believe it. We ended up having to trace all the paperwork and birth records back before I could accept it was true. Would've saved us a lot of time if I could've just spit in a tube."
It seemed the last part flew right over Steve Rogers' head; but it wasn't the modern science, it was the idea of Bucky being somebody's father- somebody's great-grandfather . In Steve's mind, he was still just a clueless 23 year old; frozen in time somewhere in the Alps.
Steve said nothing for a tense, awkward few seconds, then he did something totally unexpected. He laughed.
It was jarring, a rough bark of laughter "that liar, " He grunted, and Rebecca blinked, uncertain, "he swore he never touched her, fucking piece of shit. "
-
It was a screaming match; a knock down, drag out fight. Spitting blood and hatred.
"You went on another date with her?" That was how the fight had started; how most of their fights had started lately. Bucky often took girls out for an evening or two, just to keep up appearances. He never stepped out with the same girl more than a couple times though, not until Dot came along.
"I already told you, I had to get serious at some point or else people will figure us out. One person thinks we're a coupl'a queers and that's it."
"Who gives a shit what one person thinks?" Steve yelled.
Bucky just looked at him, unflinching, "because it's never just one person, not with an accusation like that . I might be able to dodge it, flirt loudly with a couple dames, move boroughs maybe- but you? People start thinking you're a queer and you'll be dead within a week. I can't let that happen."
Silence fell, Steve broke it with weakness in his voice.
"What the hell are you trying to do here, Buck?"
Bucky swallowed, ignoring the hot tears that welled up behind his eyes, "I'm trying to tell you we're not doing this anymore. It's not safe. "
"I don't give a fuck what's safe , since when did either one of us ever give a fuck about anything outside of this room? You and me, Buck" He leaned in close, curling his fingers around the back of Bucky's neck.
"No." Bucky said abruptly, stepping backwards, "I'm ending this, 'cause I know that you won't. I can't keep doing this to you. I might be a pervert, a sinner, but you're not. You just don't know any better, and that's my fault."
"That's bullshit, I know exactly what I want. You don't get to protect me."
Bucky shook his head, as if forcing the words to bounce right off him. "I'm going to propose to Dot, make myself an honest man. Hopefully nobody will look at you sideways once I'm outta the picture."
Steve felt like he could explode with anger, "I'm not letting you walk away from me!"
"It's too late, I fucked her. We're done."
It was like a slap across his face. Numb, stabbing cold. Worse than that time he fell from the dock into the hudson and nearly died from hypothermia.
Steve ground his teeth together, seeing red. "Get the hell out of my sight."
-
Later, Bucky returned with his tail between his legs, groveling apologies on his tongue. The love stuck there between them was so strong they couldn't stay apart if their lives depended on it- and in some ways they absolutely did.
That night, they curled around each other on that thin, threadbare mattress, Steve shivered despite the late spring warmth.
"You lied earlier, right?" His voice cracked, but he persevered, "you didn't really sleep with her?" It was barely a whisper, exhaustion clawed at Steve's throat.
Bucky sucked in a breath, eyes clamped shut against the barrage of memories. The late night, fog on their breath, sweat and starched fabric and the first time he'd ever touched a girl like that. How wrong it had felt, the bile that stung his throat as he pushed his way inside her.
He coughed, mind slamming back to the present.
"Yeah, of course I didn't." It was a lie, but only a small one; really. How big could a lie be when it was made out of love?
How could he have known how big a lie could become, after seventy years and a lifetime of grief?