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Gale had known Marge since they were children. He had loved Marge since they were teenagers. It had all seemed so obvious and clear in front of him. He was to join the Air Force, then study at university to get a good job so he could marry and provide for Marge, who would be an excellent, beautiful wife. It was all planned out in front of him.
Then he met Bucky.
Wild, unrestrained John Egan, who insisted on being called Bucky and who had given Gale a nickname barely different from his own.
Bucky was a gambler and drinker; he loved to go out and dance late at night. He was everything Gale wasn’t. If anything, he should’ve reminded Gale of his own father. But the kindness that radiated from his eyes and his smile made it impossible to compare him to that man.
Marge and Bucky were as different as they could be.
Marge was beautiful and smaller with long blonde hair, her eyes shining blue. She was stunning, turning heads whenever she entered a room – far above any other women in Gale’s eyes. She was similar to Gale in that she didn’t drink, and though she enjoyed a dance, she never complained that Gale didn’t. Gale loved her soft giggles and her calming smell of flowers. Marge was loyal and looked at him like she would always trust that Gale knew what he was doing and wait for him.
Gale loved her and wanted to protect her.
Bucky was tall and broad with a head full of brown curls, his dark blue eyes peering like he was waiting for a joke. He looked ridiculous with his thin Clark Gable moustache, but Gale saw the women who swarmed him and how he charmed them. Bucky drank until he became drunk and loved singing. He laughed loudly, booming in the officers’ mass, complained that Gale never danced. Bucky was loyal to a fault and trusted Gale implicitly. His eyes sometimes burned when they looked at Gale, like they wanted to see through him.
Gale trusted in Bucky’s abilities, but Gale never knew how much he wanted to protect Bucky until he saw him in the Stalag. After Brady arrived, promising Gale that he had made Bucky jump—and yet Bucky didn’t arrive for several days—Gale feared that Bucky had done something more reckless. Gale was furious and exasperated with Bucky for following him so quickly after he went down. But he was also relieved when Bucky arrived and worried about his wounds. Gale realized soon that he was protective of him when the others looked to him first for decisions regarding Bucky while he was recovering from his injuries.
The time in the Stalag when Bucky’s mind spiraled was among the worst times for Gale – even compared to when he was interrogated by the Germans. At that time, all he could do was concentrate on surviving and not telling them anything. He had been safe in the knowledge that Marge was safe. (That Bucky was safe.) He had focused on her being home and waiting for him, determined to not let her receive bad news.
But with Bucky there in the stalag with him, he was suddenly powerless. He couldn’t do anything if Bucky decided to do something reckless and provoke the guards. Bucky wasn’t safe, none of them were, and with him spiraling, Gale didn’t know what he would do. Normally Gale was able to read Bucky, see what he was planning before anyone else. But the time in Stalag changed them all – Bucky most of all. Gale knew that Bucky wasn’t made for staying still and behaving. Worst of all, Bucky became unpredictable even for him.
Back at Thorpe Abbotts, Gale had enjoyed how Bucky kept him on his toes. Usually, he just shook his head and grinned. When the higher-ranked officers started to take too much notice, Gale reined him in but he liked to stop him just enough to not get them into too much trouble. Gale didn’t know why, but being around Bucky made him let go of the controls and let the little daredevil in him out. It was like Bucky had seen that little figure in him from the first moment they met and made it his challenge to make Gale let him out more.
But in the Stalag, everything unpredictable and challenging became dangerous. Not just to themselves but to everyone around them as well.
It terrified him.
Bucky was a wild thing, something that couldn’t be fettered in a cage. Either he would get out one way or another, or he would die.
For once in his life, Gale didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how he could protect Bucky. It paralyzed him. He had always been a man driven by action and doing things proactively. But now he could only stare and stumble, wondering what he should do.
In turn Bucky did the only thing he could do. Gale knew that he pushed everyone around him because he couldn’t push the ones who aggravated and jailed him. It drove people around him away, leaving Gale for last – who didn’t even know how to approach this.
When Gale was asked who his letter was from, he responded with warmth while gazing at the little respite and reminder of home, but was jolted back when Bucky repeated Marge’s name —drawn out.
It hurt Gale to hear Bucky say the name that he loved with something that sounded like loathing. They had met before, and he knew that Bucky liked her. Why did he suddenly sound like he disliked her?
During one night, in passing, lying in his bunk, Gale realized he would be just as hurt to hear Marge say Bucky’s name like that. But he knew that she liked him. She always asked about Bucky in her letters to Gale, hoping that he was alright and happy that they were together at least.
Gale found himself furious and yet scared at the same time. He didn’t dare to ask Bucky outright – what if he told him that he didn’t like her? He didn’t know what he would do if that happened.
… He didn’t know if he could choose.
That’s why he told Bucky that he had asked Marge to marry him and if he would be his best man. When Bucky just smiled and nodded, Gale was relieved – so relieved that he could feel a weight leave his shoulders.
It didn’t hit him until they were on the night march from Stalag Luft III and Bucky was shouting at the German guard – and it felt more real than ever that he would see Bucky get shot in front of him. His heart was thundering in his chest and he pulled Bucky harshly away from the guard. Looking into Bucky’s dark, furious eyes, he instantly knew – as crystal clear as the cold around them.
If Bucky died here, Gale would too.
For a second, Marge flashed through his mind, but in that moment, it was the man in front of him who held all his attention. He smelled terrible (Gale probably did as well), filthy and barely shaved. But his eyes were glowing with fury and indignation over the lost lives, and he looked more alive than he had done in a long time.
Gale wanted to kiss him.
Instead, he promised him that he would escape with him.
Gale had always taken his responsibility to his men seriously. He believed in being the last man jumping from the plane, making sure that all his men jumped first – ensuring that his men survived no matter what it took. At first it was because the Air Force had ordered him to, but now it was more than just orders. It was his duty; he had engraved it into his flesh.
In one second, he abandoned it all.
Just because he saw how Bucky would be shot in front of him.
Instantly, he knew that he would do anything for the man in front of him. Anything.
It should’ve horrified him. Instead, it felt like placing a piece of an unidentifiable puzzle he had been staring at for a long time, finally seeing the picture in front of him.
It was terrifying. It was overwhelming. But Bucky had always pushed him further than anyone else.
It was dizzying, and yet Gale couldn’t find himself regretting it. It didn’t feel entirely real, but all he had in his head was the image of Bucky laughing wildly and freely again.
He desperately wanted to see that man again.
The dream and hope cracked when he turned around after reaching the forest and looked back. He couldn’t see anything but the light from the fires in the city and the white mist of his own breath, harsh from running. He couldn’t believe it. He had to bend over, biting his own fist to stop a whimper from slipping out. The fresh pain in his chest screamed and bloomed inside of him.
A voice in his head screamed that he had abandoned him. Not only had he abandoned his men – he had also abandoned Bucky.
The voices from the other two men behind him were the only things that stopped him from collapsing right then and there.
The image of Bucky struggling with the guard and shouting at him to run replayed in his dreams for days afterward.
He didn’t dare let himself think that something had happened to Bucky. He pushed it away during the days. After all, it was already playing out in his nightmares – Bucky in front of a firing squad or shot and dumped by the side of an anonymous road.
During the two months when Gale was back at Thorpe Abbotts and wasn’t sure Bucky was still alive, he had been writing to Marge. A lot. Something in his chest refused to believe his nightmares and instead immediately started planning their future.
Yet when he heard Bucky’s voice through the radio, a relief like nothing else rushed through him. He had been hoping and praying, but something in him hadn’t dared to hope.
Bucky looked thin and battered when they reunited outside the plane, but he was smiling at him. He had never looked better to Gale. It was like Gale could finally take a deep breath again.
Gale was sure that Bucky must’ve noticed his strange stares since he returned. But maybe he had dismissed it as disbelief and relief from seeing his best friend alive.
That must be why he was now staring up at Gale with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. They had been sitting in the tower, watching the flares fire into the air in celebration of the war ending. Gale had turned his head to see Bucky’s uncharacteristically quiet gaze into the sky—and he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He had gotten up on his knees, leaned his hands on the tower wall behind Bucky’s head, and kissed him.
It was awkward and short. But when Gale pulled away, he stayed close as Bucky stared up at him in shock.
“W-what..?” Bucky mumbled, and to Gale’s surprise and fascination a blush rose on Bucky’s cheeks. Bucky broke their eye contact and lifted a hand to his lips in surprise, looking down like he couldn’t believe it.
“Sorry”, Gale mumbled quietly, and Bucky’s eyes shot back up to him. “I should’ve asked first.”
That only seemed to fluster Bucky even more. But his gaze grew hotter, and he glanced down at Gale’s lips. A flutter of excitement stirred in Gale’s stomach, and he wondered if he might’ve possibly not made the worst decision of his life.
Suddenly, Bucky leaned up in a rush and pressed his lips to Gale’s. It felt like desperation and eagerness at the same time. The heat from Bucky’s lips rushed through him and left his own tingling. Gale felt Bucky’s hand on his neck, pulling him closer. A noise slipped out from the man beneath him, and Gale felt a flush of heat when he realized that Bucky had groaned. He wanted—no, needed—to push closer, to finally feel the other body against his own. But as he did, a hand pressed against his chest and their kiss broke. For a moment Gale worried, but when he opened his eyes, he saw Bucky’s parted lips and dark eyes flicking between Gale’s lips and his eyes. Everything in Bucky’s face was open, more revealing than anything before, and Gale couldn’t help but smile a little.
“Stop that”, Bucky groaned with a frown. “Don’t smile like that, I’m trying to be serious.”
Gale couldn’t help a small chuckle, and he unconsciously licked his lips.
Bucky groaned again, still looking up at Gale like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
“What… What about Marge?” Bucky finally asked, his voice low with a rare vulnerability. Gale could feel the tension in Bucky’s hands as he clung to him, like he was afraid to let go.
“Bucky”, Gale sighed. It was probably good to talk about this before going any further. He put his hand on the cheek of the tensed-up figure underneath him. “I’m no good with words, so have some patience with me, alright?”
Bucky stared suspiciously, but he nodded.
“Good.” Gale nodded back and tried to collect his thoughts. “I … Marge is Marge. And you are you. I love Marge. I’m going to marry her. She’s my girl.”
A flash of vulnerability and hurt passed through Bucky’s eyes, and for a moment he looked like he was about to sneer—like he already knew what Gale was going to say. But Gale quickly continued, before the dark thoughts had a chance to take hold of Bucky the way Gale knew they tended to do.
“And you”, he said, trying to let his face show what he was feeling. He wasn’t used to it, but for once he knew he needed to try. He stroked Bucky’s cheek with his thumb as he continued. “You’re my fella.”
He saw Bucky swallow hard, eyes widening.
“It’s probably mighty greedy”, Gale laughed weakly, glancing down in slight shame, “but I don’t want to choose. I want you… and Marge. I want you to come home with me and live with me and Marge.”
The thought of it—coming home after work to both Marge and Bucky—nearly made him breathless with want and longing. A voice in the back of his head nagged that he was greedy and selfish, but for once he wanted—no, needed—to follow his impulse. Otherwise he knew he’d regret it for the rest of his life.
“Does… does she know?” Bucky asked in a low voice, a tone Gale had never heard from him before. Gale looked up and saw a shard of vulnerability cutting through Bucky’s usually confident façade. It made Gale nearly breathless with hope.
“I told her in a letter”, Gale said, and nearly laughed when Bucky’s eyes widened in shock before he groaned in exasperation. “She wrote back that she had a feeling, and to bring you home.”
There was more to it—how Gale had felt sick with nerves waiting for her reply just a few days before—but it was enough for now. Bucky stared up at him in shock. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“I guess…” Gale started nervously, looking down at Bucky’s jacket and picking at it. “It’s up to you now. If you want to—I mean, I don’t even know what you want. You haven’t said anything yet..”
“You idiot”, Bucky suddenly cut in with a trembling voice, and Gale nearly frowned, but Bucky pulled him down until their foreheads touched and Gale’s brain stopped working. “I’ve been following you around since flight school. You didn’t notice? Hell, Gale, I fell for you the first damn day. I never stopped. I was the greedy one. I knew you had Marge and I was so jealous, but then I met her and she’s lovely. I knew you two deserved each other. But I couldn’t let you go. I didn’t want to. I could never stop touching you. I was sure everyone knew how gone I was for you. And when your plane didn’t return, I didn’t want to continue—I couldn’t, not without you...!”
Gale had to stop him. He pressed his lips to Bucky’s, and a sound that was almost a sob slipped out of him. They pressed close, just feeling the warmth and heat of each other’s bodies and the relief of breathing the same air again.
“I didn’t know…” Gale murmured when they finally broke apart, though neither pulled away.
“You’re an idiot”, Bucky snorted exasperatedly. “You’re the smartest guy I know, but you’re an idiot.”
“You’re an idiot too”, Gale shot back with mild annoyance, but he smirked as Bucky barked a laugh that made Gale’s chest feel too small for his heart.
For a moment they stared at each other before Gale broke the silence – “So… will you come with me?”
“Yeah”, Bucky said breathlessly, like he still couldn’t quite believe it, but a grin was spreading across his lips. “As long as you kiss me again.”
Gale smirked, didn’t mind that at all, and closed the distance between their lips once more.