Work Text:
It's just like any other fight, when it happens.
Steve throws his shield, taking down one robot creature and another on the ricochet. Launching himself into the air, Steve snatches his shield again and drives it into the back of another monster
His comm clicks.
"How're things on your end, Captain?" Agent Coulson asks.
Steve huffs a breath that fogs up the frigid air.
"Just swell, sir, but these things just keep coming. Any word on shutting them down?"
"Hold onto your pretty little tights, Oh Captain my Captain. Shutting down an entire legion of robots takes a minute." Tony snaps immediately.
Because no one is there to see it, Steve rolls his eyes.
"On your left Rogers!" Sam, Falcon, shouts. Steve throws his shield to the left just in time to take down another robot.
Flipping a lazy salute, Sam flies off to help in a different sector.
It's cold enough that Steve can feel it even with the uniform and the serum running through his veins. The path towards the next bundle of robots brings Steve by a lake, frozen over. Some part of him shivers, thinking of ages spent beneath the ice, cold and unable to die, but the majority of Steve's attention is considering the best method of attack. The blinding pain in his side and sudden inability to move comes as a complete surprise.
It's like he's paralyzed, Steve can't so much as move a finger when an icy hand presses briefly to his neck.
"Hello, Captain America. I must say, I've always wanted to meet you."
There's silence on his comm, before Tony, no it's Phil, starts saying something, giving orders, but Steve can't really focus, because the cold touch has evolved into a beady eyed man standing in front of him and grinning. He tries to pay attention, memorize the man's features and compare them to any of the recurring villains that try to break New York, but Steve comes up empty.
"Good talk, but I have to be going now. It'd be rude of me to leave you standing here, though, so let me just-" The man moves out of Steve's line of sight, and something quite like dread curls through him before he's falling.
It's toward the ice of course, because Steve has shitty luck, but for a brief second he thinks it might hold him. It's a freezing day, maybe he'll hit the ice, and have nothing but a couple of bruises to show for it.
Steve hits the ice and goes straight through.
He would scream, but that would mean inhaling more water, and then he'd be even colder.
He's sinking fast, just like his fall into the Potomac, but this time the water's colder, darker. Steve stares up, because his eyes won't close, and all he sees is a sheen of ice, trapping him.
He can feel the seat of the plane pressed along his back, the controls cold metal in his hands as he presses them down down down. The tip of the plane hits the ice, and Steve thinks that maybe he's done it, maybe he's landed the plane and he'll be okay and he can take Peggy dancing and Bucky-
The water rushes into the cabin all too quick, and Steve's almost grateful because Bucky is dead, Bucky is dead and he'll never come back. At least if Steve dies then he can be with his friend again.
But Steve doesn't die. The cold water seeps into his bones, and Steve breathes it in, thinks, this will make it quicker, but he doesn't die, he chokes on the water and doesn't die. It's cold, so cold, colder than the worst Brooklyn winter, when Steve caught pneumonia and couldn't get out of bed for weeks. It's colder than the Alps, watching Bucky fall because Steve wasn't quick enough, wasn't good enough. It's so cold and Steve just wants it to stop, just wants it to end, it's so dark but his eyes are still open, and he can't move because his limbs are numb, and why can't everything just stop-
Something wraps around his wrist and tugs.
Steve feels himself dragged onto the shore, and he coughs up the water on reflex. He's shaking, he can't stop shaking, but slowly he registers that he's not on the plane, it's not the 40's and he's not trapped under the ice. Steve opens his eyes, and stares at Tony Stark, mask tilted up so that Steve can hear his real voice, or he could if Steve could hear anything but water rushing by his ears.
"... thrown... frozen... honestly, Cap, you could be more careful." Tony tells him, pulling him to his feet.
Steve stumbles, wobbles, and tries to shake the ice out from behind his eyelids. Stark is pulling him along, talking, babbling, and Steve knows that he cares but god could Tony just shut up, because Steve doesn't really feel-
Tony catches him when he stumbles, and curses when Steve vomits water.
"Jesus that can't be sanitary, you're lucky you didn't get any of that on the suit for fucks sake. Okay you know what, we should just get back to the 'jet because I don't think you're up for walking at the moment."
Steve's reactions are slowed, slowed enough that he doesn't even get in a single punch before Tony is scooping him up bridal style and taking off.
Honestly, it was a nice thought, but now the breeze is whipping and Steve is still soaking wet and he's cold down to his very bones. Now that Stark isn't talking, it's unbearably quiet and Steve is back there in the dark, alone so alone, and he just wants it to end-
Steve stumbles again when Tony puts him down, but this time it's Natasha who steadies him. He's inside the Quinjet, and Coulson is talking with Clint, while Sam and Thor lay an unconscious Bruce across a seat. Briefly, Steve wants nothing more than to join him, but he knows that as soon as he closes his eyes he's going to see ice and dark.
He blinks, and Tony is out of the suit, and Natasha is pushing him into a seat and saying, "You're shaking."
Steve can't breathe. There's a weight pressing down on his chest, and he can't breathe. He's shaking apart at the seams, breaking, shattering like thin ice. The plane rumbles beneath him, and he tilts the controls down down down, and he's trapped, trapped and freezing but he won't die-
"Shit! JARVIS scan-"
Steve is gasping, can't get in a full breath, and it's so dark, he's under the ice, and he's so cold, why can't he ever be warm, why did Bucky have to fall. He's gasping and sucking in water, and it's so dark he's so alone, he wants anyone someone-
"He's having a panic attack, we need to-"
There's something on his back, pressing him down, and god, does that mean he's feeling the ice form around him and he still can't die, he's being pushed down down down, and he'll never come back up, he'll stay here frozen forever, and aware too-
Steve's aware of warm hands, pressing his head between his knees.
"I need you to breathe, Rogers. Match your breathing to mine, in and out."
"Will that actually work?"
"Yes, now shut up Barton. Breathe Steve."
Slowly, brokenly, Steve manages to get a full breath. He gasps, chokes a bit, and lets Sam's voice ground him.
Natasha has a hand on the back of his neck, and Clint's pulled a blanket from somewhere to wrap around his shoulders, and his whole team surrounds him. Steve shudders again, and forces himself back into 2015.
"Are you well, Captain?" Thor booms. Steve forces his head up, Natasha's hand dropping away. He'd blush if he had any warmth to give, but he settles for a nod.
"I'm good." Steve whispers. The shivering he can't seem to stop is contradictory. A rush of cold air accompanies the Quinjet touching down on top of the tower. Apparently it's manhandle Steve day, because Clint and Natasha haul him to his feet, slinging his arms over their shoulders. They stumble more than walk out of the transport, but Steve is grateful for their heat pressing against his side.
A snarl stops their progress.
"You did not tell me he was hurt."
Steve almost slumps then and there, because even missing the Brooklyn accent, it's clearly Bucky. Clint's indrawn breath isn't subtle, but Steve isn't surprised because in the two months Bucky has been in the tower he hasn't said a word in any of the Avengers' presences. Even Steve only gets a little more, the occasional question on a memory, a comment on something stupid he's done.
But now, Bucky is storming towards them with intent, and his gaze is locked on Steve.
Natasha stiffens under his arm, like she'll need to fight, but Steve can see Bucky's eyes and there's not a hint of Winter Soldier despite the scowl and anger. Steve's still shaking, still can't stop the ice from taking over his vision, but he yanks himself away from his teammates and takes a shaky step.
Bucky is there to catch him, Bucky is always there to catch him. Steve fists a handful of the sweatshirt Bucky is wearing, sagging into him wearily. Bucky's flesh and blood hand cradles Steve's head, presses it into his shoulder, while the metal arm wraps around his back, holding onto him tightly. Like this, Steve can almost pretend it's back in Brooklyn in the 30's, he's five feet nothing, and Bucky can protect him.
Steve shakes hard.
"Buck." He croaks. With that, the rest of the tension seeps out of his friend. The hand resting on Steve's hair starts to stroke back and forth and Bucky whispers over and over again.
"Sh, I've got you, Stevie. It's okay I've got you, you stupid punk."
Steve could cry, because Bucky's calling him punk, is holding him like a friend not an enemy, and no matter what HYDRA did Bucky still shivers the same when Steve buries his nose behind Bucky's ear.
Steve blinks, and he's in the elevator, still cradled in Bucky's arms, still shaking.
He blinks again, and Bucky's saying, "Steve. Stevie, I need you to help me out here. We have to get you into something dry."
Steve tries, he honestly does, but now that the last of the adrenaline is gone his hands are shaking too hard to get a grip on his uniform. Skin tight is usually good, but now the uniform's wet, he can't get it off, and he's still so cold.
"Yeah, okay. Fuck this."
And Bucky's there in his space, right hand cupping the back of Steve's neck, steadying him. His left drifts over Steve's uniform, metal catching on the ridges and dips. Steve closes his eyes, and sways closer.
With one forceful tug, the uniform peels off him like paper.
Steve's eyes fly open. He's naked but for a thin shirt and boxers, the uniform lying in a puddle at his feet. Now that Steve is more or less focusing, he sees that they're in his floor's bathroom, and that the room is filling up with steam. The tub's half-full of water, and Bucky's pushing him towards it, ripping off Steve's shirt as he goes.
"What'd m'shirt ever do to you?" Steve mutters, a touch resentful.
Bucky laughs, actually laughs for the first time Steve can remember since 1943, and shoves him toward the tub. Really, it's unfair that Bucky is acting more like himself than the Winter Soldier, and Steve can't even be properly aware to see it.
"You're such a pain in my ass, Rogers." But even as Bucky says it, he steadies Steve as he steps over the edge, and my god, the water is so warm, too warm almost.
"Jerk." Steve retorts, but it's weak, and rather ruined by the moan he lets out as he sinks into the water.
"Punk." Bucky tells him, and Steve nearly moans again when metal fingers scratch at his scalp. Then Bucky is disappearing, getting up and walking away. "Alright, I'm sure you can take it from here. JARVIS'll let me know if you need anything."
The panic Steve feels is immediate. He's warmer now, yes, it's true, but his time in the ice is right behind his eyes, he can feel the darkness reaching in, the silence, being alone and trapped and-
"Please don't go." Steve's voice cracks, and he sounds like a scared child, but right now he just needs to be not alone, and there's no one he trusts more than Bucky not to take advantage of him. It doesn't matter that Bucky lost 70 years as an assassin because Steve lost 70 years to ice and he's not the same either. But Bucky is still his friend, Bucky is still everything-
"Stevie, I need you to breathe with me, alright, match your breathing to mine. I've got you, I won't leave."
At least Steve mostly manages to curb this panic attack before it gets too far along. He opens his eyes to Bucky's face so close to his own that Steve can count Bucky's eyelashes. One of his hands is curled into Bucky's chest, so that he can feel the rise and fall of his lungs.
"Sorry." Steve whispers.
Bucky's expression transforms from one of concern into one of fond exasperation.
"You wanna talk about it?"
"No." Steve says immediately. "Maybe. Just. You can go, if you want."
Bucky shakes his head, long hair falling into his face.
"I think I'll just sit here for now. Not like you can be trusted to take care of yourself."
Steve doesn't fully let go when Bucky sits down, just shifts his grip to a wrist instead of a sweatshirt.
"I missed you."
Bucky meets his gaze. It's not the same as Brooklyn in the 40's or even in Europe, there's something cold and hard at the back of Bucky's eyes, but Steve couldn't give a damn because they're both here, in the 21st century.
"I missed you too, punk."
The warmth seeps into Steve's bones, clearing away some of the chill that his swim and panic attack gave him. When he finally feels comfortable enough to talk, he does so without looking at Bucky.
"I wasn't unconscious, when I hit the ice. It was supposed to be quick and painless, but it wasn't, and I swallowed down the water, and I didn't die, and it was so cold. Just cold, everywhere, and it was dark, so dark and quiet, I was so alone, and it took forever until I passed out, but I would wake up sometimes, encased in ice, and I-"
Steve cuts off with a gasp, because Bucky's been tightening his grip on Steve's wrist as he speaks, he can practically feel the bones grinding together, and it hurts, sharply and immediately.
Bucky hears his gasp, and drops Steve's arm like it's something hot, rocketing to his feet.
"Bucky-"
Bucky turns around, gripping tightly onto the sink and pointedly not meeting Steve's eyes in the mirror.
"Sorry." Steve hears. Bucky's voice is tight, controlled, like it's been since he arrived in the tower. "Sounds a lot like cryo."
And Steve, Steve could hit himself, because how did he manage to forget that Bucky was frozen too, that if anyone could understand it would be him?
He holds his breath, but Bucky doesn't leave. He sits back down and takes Steve's hand, stroking the bruised wrist with careful fingers.
Steve curls his fingers into Bucky's and reminds himself that this is real.
When Steve's finally dried and dressed, he insists on going to movie night. Bucky has slipped back into his customary silence, but when Steve turns toward the elevator instead of the bed, he sees Bucky arch an eyebrow.
"I don't miss movie night." Steve says stubbornly. Despite the fact that he's swaying almost imperceptibly, Steve's on his feet, and that means he can go to movie night. Bucky, a step behind as if to catch Steve if he falls, scowls.
"Rest." You idiot goes unsaid, but Steve can hear it fine.
"Movie night."
Bucky growls, but he still gets in the elevator. Even though Bucky waits on the roof after every mission, he never goes to movie night, hasn't really spoken a word to the other Avengers. At the moment Steve is nothing but grateful that he's coming. Bucky reaches out and tangles his fingers with Steve's, and Steve grins. He presses a kiss to the metal knuckles, and watches as Bucky's eyes widen then soften. The metal hand tightens its grip carefully.
The elevator doors open, and Steve can hear his team arguing over movies. Bucky hustles him out of the elevator without hesitation, tugging Steve towards an open couch, and shoving him down. There's not even a pause in Bucky's movements as everyone falls silent; he grabs a blanket from somewhere and tucks it in around Steve. Feeling touched, Steve doesn't give one whit about everyone staring at them, he just drags Bucky down beside him.
Briefly, they sit in awkward silence, but then Natasha is moving over to their couch, and sprawling across it with her feet in Steve's lap. Sam, brave man that he is, scoops Natasha's legs up so that he can sit against Steve's other side, offering silent support. Clint reclines half-on Steve's legs, and even Tony drags his beanbag chair towards their couch. Thor offers a wave from where Bruce is conked out against his arm.
"Well, not that this ain't swell, but I'm pretty sure movie nights involve actual movies." Bucky drawls, arm thrown over Steve's shoulder.
"It speaks!" Tony cries from the floor. Someone, maybe Sam, kicks him.
Steve closes his eyes, warm and safe, with his best friend at his side and his family around him.