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Bucky Barnes really loved strawberry ice cream. Steve loves the Neapolitan, and so back in the day, whenever he could scrounge up the money to do so, he would buy a carton of the sweet stuff. He'd come home and put it in the freezer and then sit down by the open window either lost in thought or lost on a page of his ever-present sketchbook. Bucky would come home and give him a big smile, like every other day, and then flop down on the sofa.
"Watcha do today, Stevie?" Bucky would ask, leaning over the edge of the sofa to be even just a little but closer. Same as always. Steve smiled.
This routine of theirs, however odd it seemed to anyone else, was wonderful and comfortable and better than Steve could have imagined. But when Steve's mother had passed away, Bucky had taken it upon himself to take care of Steve in every sense of the term. Bucky would find work and pay the bills with his tiny paychecks, bring Steve to the doctor when he fell ill each month, hold him in the cold of night to keep him warm and remind him that Bucky loved and would always love him. Bucky took care of him better than anyone else ever could, so whenever the opportunity arose, Steve would do something to take care of Bucky.
Like buy ice cream in the summer.
Every time Steve would buy a carton, he'd open the freezer box the next day to find the line of strawberry ice cream gone. He would smile, knowing his favorite person in the world was even a tiny bit happier, thanks to something he had done. After all, that's why Steve would buy the Neapolitan instead of just chocolate or just vanilla. Strawberry was Bucky's favorite, after all.
-
It's been eleven months since the incident in DC. It's been nine months since Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier turned himself in. It's 7:15 in the morning and Steve Rogers gets a phone call.
He checks the caller ID; it's SHIELD's psychiatric ward.
"Captain Rogers speaking, what is it?"
A feminine voice responds. "This is SHIELD's Psych ward. On James Barnes' military records, he listed you as 'next of kin.'" A knot twists in Steve's stomach. What comes next could either be really good, or really, really bad.
She continues. "Director Fury has given us the go-ahead to release him. Since he has nowhere else to go that is safe, Fury requested he be under your care." She finishes. Steve breathes deeply, whether from apprehension or relief he doesn't know.
"Captain Rogers?"
"Yeah, yeah." Steve rubs his hand across his forehead. He's standing in his kitchen, just finishing up the dishes after breakfast and a morning run. He looks at the clock, decides for a moment, and continues. "I'll be there in an hour," he says, and the line disconnects.
He finishes washing the dishes lost in thought, worrying about Bucky's memories and how he will react to life in a modern apartment with Steve. He thinks of his own list of things to learn about, and starts to brainstorm one for Bucky. He's about halfway out the door when he realizes he needs his keys, which lay on the counter next to the refrigerator.
Standing by the freezer door for that moment sparks a memory that's not so distant even though it's seventy-six years old. He remembers that Bucky loves strawberry ice cream. Not that Steve ever forgot, but until last summer he had been mourning his best friend's death, not considering what he'd like when he came back to Steve.
Steve makes a mental note to buy some ice cream.
-
In the hour between his receiving the phone call and arriving to pick up Bucky, Steve Rogers does a number of things.
He goes into his room and decides he needs extra space. He doesn't know how much of his memory Bucky has reclaimed, and Steve is unsure if Bucky will be willing to sleep in the same bed. Steve pulls out an extra set of sheets, a blanket and a pillow and sets them out on the sofa in the living room. He makes and leaves his bed ready for Bucky, although he's unsure which space Bucky will pick. Steve is pretty sure Bucky will opt the floor over anything else. After all, Steve's own bed is still too comfortable.
After putting out the bedding, Steve makes a mental list as he heads to the grocery store. Ice cream is at the top, middle, and bottom of the list. When he arrives, he goes straight to the freezer section and picks four different half-gallons and two containers of the Neapolitan. He had just run out of his last container, so he figured he'd pick up some more anyway.
He returns home and makes space for the three gallons of ice cream he just brought home. After carefully putting the six containers away, Steve realizes he has ten minutes before he said he'd be in. Steve speeds down the highway to headquarters on his motorcycle and arrives just barely in time, because no cop in his right mind would stop Captain America from rushing anywhere.
Sometimes it pays to be America's golden boy.
The next hour is a blur. Steve is ushered into Psych. He's handed a clipboard of release forms which is then taken from him, even though he didn't touch the paper. He's a legend in SHIELD, and he vaguely notices the wide eyes from every other employee staring at Captain America, whispering to each other.
He's ushered through blank hallway after blank hallway, but his mind is blank except for one name and memory after memory of an older time: Bucky. Sharing an apartment with Bucky. Bucky being there when his mother died. Bucky coming home and eating everything and then apologizing. Bucky curling around him at night. Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky.
Steve is stopped just outside a room in the fifth or fifteenth hallway he had been led down. Everything around him stops as he hesitantly rests his fingers on the door handle.
He let's out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding as he applies pressure and turns the handle.
The door swings open with a light squeak, revealing a light room with a single person inside.
"Bucky."
The man inside looks up either at the name or the sound of someone's voice. His eyes are filled with emotions that Steve knows very well. Apprehension is first to run through Bucky's face, creasing it in ways Steve knew all too well. Recognition is second, either that he's seen Steve before or that he remembers Steve or that he remembers the last time he saw Steve, when he pulled him out if the Potomac almost a year earlier. Guilt and sadness and fear are next, and as Steve takes a few steps into the room Bucky curls into himself and hides face behind a curtain of the dark hair Steve has always loved so much.
Steve stops mid-stride, apprehension and fear and an acute comprehension of the guilt Bucky feels. He stops completely, and starts to reach out to his friend, but after a second retracts his hand in favor of crouching and softly spoken words.
Steve's voice is the only sound in the room, the only sound in the world as he speaks. "Bucky? Is that you?"
The man on the table looks up again. He may have the long hair, gaunt face and hunched shoulders of the Winter Soldier, but his eyes are every bit Bucky Barnes, except for one thing. He's missing something.
A tiny voice responds. "Hi Steve."
A small sob breaks Steve's mask of worry and a hopeful smile creeps into his eyes, daring to be acknowledged. He looks up at Bucky, looks into his eyes, searching, probing for whatever is missing.
Steve decides to venture a question that he doesn't know he wants the answer to.
"Do you remember me?"
He's afraid of the answer, either way; if it's negative, it'll be more time, more healing. If it's positive, well, then they still have a lot of work to do.
Silence grows after Steve's loaded question. His nerves grow with every passing second.
He's still looking at Bucky when Bucky opens his mouth. Steve is expectant, waiting, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst, but Bucky shuts his mouth.
Steve's expression and head fall and tears threaten to come and ruin his otherwise decent morning. God, it's only eight thirty. Eight thirty on a Tuesday morning.
He senses motion above him as he kneels in front of who used to be his best friend. He looks up to see tears in Bucky's eyes and a gentle smile gracing his otherwise tired face.
"Yeah," Bucky says hesitantly, "yeah I do."
Before Steve can react Bucky puts his flesh-and-blood hand on Steve's shoulder as a caution. Bucky's smile falls and his next words come out in a rush. "I remember most things, but some things are still coming back, and I don't think I'll recover some things but I don't know that for certain, and I just, I don't know."
Steve is smiling though, eyes shining through imminent tears, tears of happiness, rejoicing that his best friend has been returned to him.
Steve just shakes his head. "That's okay, it's okay," he says as he reaches for Bucky's hand still on his shoulder, capturing it with both of his. He smiles brightly up at Bucky, who begins to smile a little himself. "We'll work through it."
All Bucky can do is smile at Steve. He looks down at his hand being held by Steve's and brings his metal hand to rest on top of them.
Steve's mind is racing and empty at the same time. What he wonders, though, is what will be different? Steve is not the same man who lost Bucky on that train. There's no way Bucky would be the same, either. There's a little worry nagging at the back of his mind as he checks Bucky out of Psych and brings him to his apartment.
-
They borrow a car from SHIELD because Steve isn't sure if Bucky would be comfortable with his motorcycle just yet. Steve carries Bucky's few belongings in a small duffel, leading Bucky up the stairs to his apartment. He talks about nothing, explaining everything slowly, knowing that adjustment to the twenty-first century can be a bit difficult, having done it himself.
They reach the apartment shortly, with Bucky listening intently. Mostly Steve talks about SHIELD and the Avengers Initiative and a few things he's learned thanks to Tony and Sam. Steve steps forward with the key and unlocks the door, and he turns to look at Bucky.
"Ready to go in?" he asks, genuinely concerned about his friend.
Bucky nods silently, and Steve opens the door to the dark apartment and steps inside.
He flips on the light switch, which makes Bucky squint for a few seconds as he adjusts to the light. Steve puts down the bag on the sofa and walks toward the window to open the blinds.
"Did you want some more light?" Steve asks Bucky as he closes the door.
"A little," Bucky responds quietly. He turns to look around at everything. He sees an old photograph sitting on the end table next to the sofa. He picks it up and studies it carefully.
It's a photograph of Bucky and Steve, clad in military dress uniform and ordinary clothes. It's a candid picture of them from the day before Bucky left for the war, the one when he and Steve had gone on that double date to "the future."
Steve is in the kitchen when Bucky's voice cuts through despite it's lack of volume: "I remember this."
Steve takes the five strides into the living room hastily, wanting to make sure what Bucky is remembering is what he thinks it is.
It is.
Steve smiles.
-
The days go by and Steve and Bucky settle into a rhythm. That first night Bucky wound up sleeping on the floor by Steve's bed, just like Steve has guessed. What Steve didn't guess was that when he woke up his hand was inches from Bucky's. A sleepy smile drifted to his lips.
The next night Bucky sleeps in his bed, next to him.
The nightmares are something Steve expected. He experienced them himself. He wakes up that second night to Bucky thrashing and on the verge of screaming.
Steve sits up and prepares himself to use all of his strength to hold Bucky down.
"Bucky! Bucky, wake up! It isn't real! Buck, wake up! Wake up!" Steve grabs Bucky's shoulders as he snaps his eyes open. He's shaking, terrified, and Steve knows what he's reliving the instant their eyes lock.
Tears build in Bucky's eyes, and it's a sight Steve would have given the world not to see. He starts sobbing, letting them wrack his body as Steve curls around him protectively.
"Shh, it's okay, it's okay. You're safe. You're here with me. You're safe," Steve repeats over and over again to comfort his best friend.
Once Bucky stops crying and shaking, they lay back down. Sleep comes easier for them both when Steve is holding Bucky.
-
It takes a little while for Steve to remember that he bought ice cream.
It's a Thursday a few weeks after Bucky first came home. Steve opens the fridge to see what leftovers they have to make for lunch and dinner.
For the first time in a long time, there aren't any leftovers. At all. So Steve reaches for the freezer.
The ice cream nearly falls out on him as he opens the door and Steve yelps.
"You okay?" Bucky calls from the next room over, footsteps padding across the wooden floor toward the kitchen.
He walks in to find Steve holding too many ice cream boxes.
Bucky's mouth is hanging open. "What the hell is going on?"
Steve is practically juggling these boxes and struggles a reply of, "It's August and I remembered that you liked ice cream so I figured I'd buy some and help you figure out what kind you like."
Bucky takes a moment to process the jumbles words, then smiles. He walks over to Steve and takes two boxes from his hands.
"I think I've figured out what we're eating for lunch and dinner."
"Probably breakfast tomorrow, too," Steve adds.
-
The two of them sit on the floor in the living room as they eat the ice cream.
Bucky tries all of the ice cream Steve has. Well, all of the ice cream that fell out of the freezer, which were the four boxes that Steve bought that weren't his favorite Neapolitan.
Bucky sits with his back to the sofa and his legs out on front of him, a kind of sad look on his face.
"What's wrong?" Steve asks, conscious of Bucky's every move and expression.
"I don't really like any of these. The rocky road was okay, mint has never been my favorite, I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on with the moose tracks, and this birthday cake stuff is honestly kinda nasty," Bucky explains, and looks up at Steve.
Steve is sad to hear this. He tried the ice creams too, and he is rather fond of them, the moose tracks and birthday cake in particular. He starts putting the lids back on the containers as he tells Bucky, "That's honestly too bad. At least I like them."
He stands up and holds a hand out to Bucky and pulls him up. Full but perhaps not completely content, they take the containers and return them to the freezer.
As Steve puts them away, Bucky notices another container on a different shelf.
"What's that one?" Bucky asks, pointing.
"Oh, that's Neapolitan. It's my favorite. Do you remember when I would get some back in the day?"
Bucky thinks for a good minute. "Not... exactly. Maybe. I don't know." Bucky wears a slight frown at this realization.
So does Steve. "Oh. Well, maybe it'll come with time," he says with a slight smile, hopeful that this little memory would return.
"Yeah. Maybe."
-
Steve wakes up the next morning without Bucky next to him.
This has happened before. It was not a pretty sight, a terrified-looking man huddled in an alley four, then six, then twelve blocks away, shaking in fear and anger and crying from stimulatory overload and memories so harsh no others could compare.
Those were not good days for either of them.
Panicked, Steve throws off the covers, wide awake. He hurriedly puts on a shirt and sweatpants, a relatively acceptable outfit for someone first thing in the morning. He slips on his shoes as he runs to get his keys. On his way through the living room, a soft sound coming from the sofa catches his attention.
The sound is emanating from Bucky, who is passed out on the couch.
Steve breathes an enormous sigh of relief. Bucky is okay, and he's asleep. He's safe.
As his heart rate slows, Steve watches Bucky for a short time as he sleeps. He sees the way his hair falls in his face, the way his pouty lips are parted as he breathes, the way his metal arm is draped over the side of the sofa as he lay sleeping on his stomach, the gentle rise and fall of his body as he breathes, peaceful for the first time in a long time.
Steve then notices an extra metal extremity in or on his left hand. Upon closer inspection he finds it's a spoon.
He investigates only to find a completely melted container of Neapolitan ice cream a foot away.
There is a little missing from the chocolate and the vanilla.
The strawberry is completely gone.
Steve smiles and shakes his head. Some things just don't change.