A story set at a full moon.

This week's prompt will run until Friday! Or possibly Saturday morning, sorry about that.

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From:

starmaki

They lie there together, long minutes pass. Breathes and heartbeats adjust to one rhythm, one tune. A missing harmony that fills Steve's soul when it was so empty before.

"Bucky?" Steve asks, after he watches the moon rise. The shadows growing darker, as less light pours in, until the moon drifts behind the upper windowsill.

"Shhh...You need to rest. Your mind's workin' so hard, steams coming outta your ears." Bucky says, his Brooklyn accent slipping in and out.

And Steve wonders if Bucky is here or somewhere else, reliving the past; and he doesn't want to intrude on that, even though he has a thousand things he wants to say, to ask. "It can wait until morning."

"Punk..." Bucky's quiet voice trails off to nothing as he gently rubs his lips into Steve's hair, before settling again to his shoulder. His lips mimic a kiss there, or maybe it is one. Dry, chapped lips pressing quick to his skin then away. And it burns, in that tiny spot. Burns.

"Yeah, morning," Bucky says, his breathing picking up a choppy rhythm, while his hand clenches more to Steve's chest, fingers grasping, twisting into his undershirt, five points branding, bruising into his skin, but Steve doesn't flinch at Bucky's tight hold. He swallows back a moan instead.

"Goodnight, jerk," Steve finally says, low, a little sarcastic, but it is real, and it is Steve, the real Steve. The one that only Bucky sees.

Bucky doesn't answer, but Steve feels his breath even out, slow, steady; and Steve finds despite himself drifting off, under the strong protective embrace of his oldest friend, best friend, and maybe he will be again one day. Because he feels safe, safe, and to hell with everyone else, because nothing could take this away from him, from them. He wants to be selfish. And hold this close to his heart, forever.

Morning arrives. The sheets tangled, duvet half on the floor, half still clinging to the bed. Dust motes dance in the morning light. Steve glances over to the window. It's shut. He rolls over--and Bucky is gone. But the impression is still there, dirt from his boots flaked and grounded into the duvet. And he fights the urge to gather the duvet to his chest, to bury his nose in it to capture Bucky's scent. He runs his palm over the bed where Bucky was. It's cool, no body heat left.

And it is the same--same as that night when he was sixteen. In the morning, Bucky was gone--out the window, down the fire escape--and they never mention that night. He held him all night long when he was gravely ill, that they gave him last rites. And now it is replaying itself. And Steve's insides knotted, his chest hollow, heart scooped out, and he gasps from the loss, fighting back tears, tearing his fingers into the bed-sheets. So close, so close.

Steve notices the sketchbook, the pencil not on the floor, but stuck in between the pages. Sitting up, he grabs it, hands shaking as he opens the sketchbook to the bookmarked pages. There...there, he stares at Bucky's neat script. The same careful penmanship the sisters rapped rulers on knuckles over. Words, some crossed out as he wrote it, but it is clear and the words shear into his mind.

Stevie,
I can't stay. ~~Don't look~~ I can't be the person you want me to be. I am not who you think I am. I'm not a good man. The terrible things I've done. I remember so many things. ~~Mostly bad, but~~ It gets confusing in my head. I see you and remember not all my memories are bad. Some are good, pure. I didn't want to ruin it. I'm not ready. ~~I won't~~
So Stevie, take your medicine and I'll see you in ~~school~~ Brooklyn on that bridge I couldn't sell.

--B.

Steve's lips tremble when he reaches the end of the note. Brushes at his eyes, to remove sleep, not tears from his eyes. Dammit, he is fooling no one, especially himself, when he looks down at his wet fingertips.

They will meet in Brooklyn again. Steve knows this, swears this to the bottom of his soul. He will not stop searching. And when they finally are together again, they will be home.

#######

It is finally up at ao3 after some editing ,adding over hundred more words and a title change.^_^
By the Silvery Moon (2142 words) by themirrordarkly
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes
Additional Tags: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War, Angst, Spooning, Bucky Barnes Remembers, POV Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Touching, Kissing, Full Moon, Memories, Flash Fic, Community: mcuflashmeme
Series: Part 5 of New Beginnings
Summary:

"You." The familiar voice is a low rumble, and it vibrates to his very bones.

Steve remains quiet, holding his breath, shoulders tense. He does not want break the spell, the moment. He has searched for months and now he is here in his room. And he is not prepared. Every practiced word, turns to dust in his mouth.

***
Bucky finds Steve

Edited (added link) Date: 2016-04-04 11:12 pm (UTC)