{A letter written, but never sent or given | {CLOSED TO: Ship-partners that are given the link

[notworthallthis]

You're looking for something. Something mostly inconsequential, maybe a pen or a piece of paper. You really aren't even trying to snoop. But when you pull open that junk drawer in the desk, something falls on the floor. Not finding what you seek, you lean down to pick up whatever fell so you can put it back, but something catches your eye on it. Curiosity rises and you decide it can't hurt to take a little peek. You two don't have secrets from each other anyway.

It's a letter.
Addressed to you.

If you're going to fall in love with me, here are some of the things you should know first:

• I am afraid of being alone and terrified of letting people in. My walls are high and thick, it's going to take time for them to start coming down, and it may not be permanently gone just because you managed to get through it once.

• When I look at myself in the mirror, I only see the darkness, the clouds in my eyes, the river of blood flowing over my hands. You deserve more than the demons inside my head.

• It won't matter how long you stay, if you're here until your dying breath, I'll probably always be a little scared one day you'll realize you deserve better than this and you'll leave.

• I'm a lover over a fighter if I have the choice, but you have to know I'll always end up pulled back into a fight at some point. I can't walk away when I know I could save someone.

• I can be cold and distant or needy and clingy, and I can't really plan for which way I'll feel. I can't flip it like a light switch. Please remember, it's not something you did. I just have to go through some things on my own.

• Sometimes, I wake up screaming from nightmares that are really just memories resurfacing. Sometimes, it's violent. I don't want to hurt you, but I might not even recognize you. I haven't found a good way to deal with this, except to live alone...

• Sometimes, I'm just sad for no real reason. No specific anniversary date of something tragic at all. It happens.

• I have enough blood on my hands and guilt in my heart that I'm not sure will ever heal. Maybe I'm not supposed to heal, not completely. Maybe the pain stays because I deserve to feel it.

• In general, directions are better than questions. Don't think of it as being bossy or giving me commands. Hopefully it won't feel that way to you, but if it does, just remember... it's better for me. Anything that takes away doubts of what's wanted or needed is better.

• I'm terrible at asking for things I need. Even worse if it's just something I want. I need reassurance, sometimes more than I like to admit. I may not believe your compliments in the moment, but I need to hear them as much as I need water and oxygen. Don't stop.

• Open-ended choices might make me freeze, if you narrow it down to a handful of options, it'll probably work better if I seem like I'm stuck.

• I am touch starved and touch averse at the same time- I crave it and fear it in equal measure. I need you to go slow. I need movements telegraphed so nothing feels too sudden.

• I love richly and deeply. You'll wake up to sticky notes on mirrors and I'll share poetry that made me think of you. I can be intense sometimes, but I think usually it's to my advantage when it comes to those things.

• If I've told you I love you, you don't have to question it because I tried to talk myself out of it at least a dozen times before I even admitted to myself and it probably took me twice that many times before I found the right moment to say it anyway.

If you've made it this far, uh... thanks. It means more than I have the words to explain. If all this doesn't make you want to run far, far away from here... thank you. If you want to talk about any of this, just let me know. I'll try to be as much of an open book as I can.


I love you.
Thanks for loving me, too.

-JBB

Comments

[capnrogers]

[ Steve is looking for stamps when he comes across the letter.

Don't people use stamps anymore? He figures if anyone would have them, it would be Bucky. What he doesn't expect to find is this. It's a letter, fallen out of the drawer and just laying there next to his feet. When he lifts it up he realizes it's addressed to him.

Dear Steve.

Written in Bucky's beautiful penmanship. Current, not from before the war. He can tell, because there's a slight change to the way the letters curve. That thought alone squeezes his heart. But then he keeps reading- barely breathing till he gets to the end of it. He wipes at his eyes before he even realizes he's crying, then folds the letter up and presses it against his chest. Against his heart.

He loves this man so much. His Bucky.

There's a minute or two where he just stands there, taking it all in and then reeling it in before he tucks the letter into his pocket and goes to find his Bucky, finding him in the kitchen, looking for snacks. Bucky eats more these days and he's glad for it. Relieved..

His face might be a little red from crying, but he smiles and slides his arms around him, nice and slow, nuzzling into his shoulder.]

Hey. I love you.

[notworthallthis]

[Bucky grins when he feels strong arms wrap around him from his place, standing with the pantry cabinets open, indecisive. He leans into the hold and hums a soft note of approval.] Mmm… hi.

[He tilts his head back to try and look at Steve. That grin widens on hearing those words; it’s not the first time, and he’s relatively sure these days it won’t be the last he’s heard them. They seem to get sweeter every time he hears them, though.]

I love you, too. [He presses a kiss against Steve’s temple.] You okay? [He reaches up with his right hand to card his fingers through Steve’s hair in an absent-minded sort of manner, unthinking, seeking, comforting.]

[capnrogers]

[ Steve's heart always seems to want to burst when Bucky looks at him in this way. Would he have been able to stand it when he was younger? Maybe, maybe not. But the here and now is the most important right now, and when Bucky leans into him and tells him he loves him too, everything shifts into place.

The right place.

He nods, leaning into Bucky's touch, kissing up along his neck. ]

I'm okay. I'm always okay, now that I get to be with you.

[But there's more to it than that- at least right now there is. He doesn't like keeping anything from Bucky. Big or small, not ever. They're open and honest with each other, and he respects that completely.]

I guess I'm just... I'm extra emotional because I found something. I was looking for stamps so I could mail some late Christmas cards and I came across a letter.

[notworthallthis]

[There’s another soft noise of approval at the lips trailing languidly up the path of his neck. Dull nails scrape lightly against Steve’s scalp in response. More of that, yes, that’s nice.]

You’re so sweet to me… [He doesn’t always feel like he deserves that sweetness, but other times, like now, he just sinks into the feeling as much as he can.

He frowns slightly, his head tipping back until he’s looking at Steve, upside down from his new position. He squints up at him curiously.]

What letter? [He doesn’t sound angry or upset, just curious; it’s been months now since he wrote it. He’d mostly forgotten all about it, because in the end, he’d decided not to give it to him. He’d find the right moment eventually.]

[capnrogers]

[ More of that... god, he can never have enough it. His eyes flutter closed for a moment at the feel of Bucky's fingers pressing lightly against his scalp, but he has to bring himself back into the present moment. ]

I like being sweet to you.

[He likes being honest too, though, so he'll take however this plays out. When Bucky looks at him curiously, he lets out a soft breath, then pulls back enough to take the letter out of his pocket. He unfolds it slowly, holding it up for Bucky to see.]

This one. It had my name on it so I started reading it, and... I'm sorry. Halfway through I realized that maybe you hadn't intended for me to read it just yet, but... it was so heartfelt. So real and beautiful. I read it all the way through.

[notworthallthis]

[Bucky shifts to face him when Steve pulls back and plucks the paper from his pocket. He frowns a little and takes it to glance it over and the memory of writing it comes back to him.]

Oh… [He breathes the word on a sigh and folds the letter back up, slipping it back into Steve’s shirt pocket. There’s a soft smile on his face as he crowds into Steve’s personal space bubble, tipping his forehead against the other’s.]

I never could decide when or how to give it to you… but I think we covered everything in it in our own way, right? [He tugs his lower lip with his teeth and reaches with his hand to toy with the short hair at the back of his head.] Were there any surprises on there for you?

[capnrogers]

[ The softest smile settles on his lips when Bucky slips the letter back into his pocket. He's glad for it. It means that Bucky does want him to have. He'll hold it close for the rest of his life. Carry it with him through anything and everything.

Bucky moves closer, pressing into his space, and Steve slides his arms around him, resting his forehead against his. ]

I think we've covered everything in our own way, yeah- but it was still good to read it. To know that you trust me with all of it.

[Steve's hands slide slowly up and down Bucky's back.]

No surprises, just... the part about you thinking you don't deserve to heal. I don't agree with that. You are such a loving, caring and incredibly kind person. You love with all your heart, and I know that's why you feel the pain you feel... but you certainly don't deserve it.

I also know you won't believe that... so I'll believe it enough for the both of us.

[notworthallthis]

[When those arms circle around him, it feels like home. Like a plant seeking sunlight, Bucky leans into the touch against his back. Has anyone ever been as loved as he feels right now? He closes his eyes and just soaks in the warmth of it for a long moment.

He lets Steve’s voice wash over him, a gentle wave that soaks him to the bone. Those things are easier for him to hear now, than when he first wrote that letter, but the added reassurance still helps. It always does.

Bucky lets his eyes flutter open and he’s greeted with that soft-eyed, earnest face that still makes his stomach fill up with nervous flutters.]

I love you so much… [His voice is a soft whisper, a quiet secret shared only with Steve.] I’m so glad that you have so much faith in me, even in those times when I feel so lost.

[Suddenly overwhelmed with the emotion stirring in his chest, he buries his face into the crook of Steve’s neck, voice gone, words lost, but, God, the love pours out of him in other ways.

His hand slides gently down the back of Steve’s neck to settle between his shoulders, where he can curl his fingers into the material of his shirt. He squeezes Steve gently in a hug, but it’s more of a question than an action, a silent begging to be squeezed back as tightly as possible— it’s something they’d figured out works really well between them. Finding the little, silent cues that allow him to ask for things, even when he has no idea how to voice them had done wonders for both of them.

Maybe it’s brain chemicals flooding into him that make it feel so good, he really doesn’t know, but there’s just something so satisfying and comforting in a really tight squeeze that only barely doesn’t steal his breath. It grounds him in a way nothing else can.]

[capnrogers]

I love you too. I've always loved you, so damn much.

[He returns softly, that love deeply engrained in every look he gives Bucky. Every expression. It'll always be there, because he always feels it, and he knows he's the luckiest man to have that love returned.]

I'm so proud of you, Buck. It takes a lot to know yourself in this way and write it all down. Share it with someone. You're incredible.

[Steve has all the faith in the world. Even when Bucky had been at his lowest, he had that faith. Bucky's heart has always been unmatched.

It barely takes a moment for Steve's arms to slide around Bucky even more, circling around his back completely. He squeezes back tightly, knowing that's exactly what Bucky wants when he holds him in this way. He's learning Bucky's wants and needs, even when the other is unable to say them out loud. He squeezes tight enough where it almost feels like he could pull Bucky into himself, dropping his head down into the crook of his neck as well, and leaving a kiss there.

Nothing feels better than this. It feels like home.]

[notworthallthis]

"I'm so proud of you, Buck."

[His chest swells in that way that feels a little like it might burst, the silent heave of a soundless sob wracking over his body as Steve's arms circle around him tightly. So tight and warm and, God, how is he supposed to live with this much emotion in him, with no good way to get it out? Words fail him too often, and his actions never feel like enough. Nothing he could ever do, no words he could spout, could ever make him really know that Steve knew how much of him was his and his alone.

Steve held his heart in his hands, and he's never had to think twice about letting it stay there; he knows beyond any doubt, any inkling of uncertainty or doubt, that he would never hurt him.

He's quiet as Steve speaks, soft murmurs in his ear after the he's done telling him how proud he is of him. How amazing he is. And, God, that makes the warm buzzing under his skin seem to light up, warmth spreading across him.

His ear is pressed against chest, listening to the soft one-two, one-two beat of Steve's heart. Steady and strong, a far cry of the scrawny kid picking fights he couldn't win in alleyways.

Slowly, the silent, heaving sobs gently ebb away as lips brush lightly against his neck. Bucky feels himself sinking further and further into the wall of a man in front of him. No words have found him, and he doesn't much want to move, so he just stays like that until Steve wants to shift or move or pull back and look at him. ]

[capnrogers]

[Steve will hold Bucky right here for as long as he needs. He'd hold him tight against his for always if he could. The world has been so cruel to Bucky, and Steve knows that he doesn't need protection, but he does need all the love and care in the world. Steve will do everything he can to give it to him.

And so when Bucky lets out those quiet sobs, Steve holds him even tighter, wanting him to know that it's alright. He can let it out in any way he needs to. He'll be here for him.

Even in this way, Steve is proud. Bucky feels so deeply, so immensely. No matter what happened, he never let that heart of his get taken away.

Steve doesn't really want to move either. He just keeps kissing up along Bucky's neck. He whispers soft words of love against his skin, then presses another soft kiss just under his ear.]

Thank you for trusting me with your heart.

[He says finally, nuzzling into him.]

[notworthallthis]

[For so long, he was the rock in Steve's life, and now their roles are kind of reverse- it's strange, but it's so nice to have someone to (literally) lean on when he needs to.

The tighter circling of his arms around him is welcome, and it lets him sink heavy against Steve until he can finally breathe again.]

There's no one in this world I would trust more with it. [He says softly, tilting his head a little to give Steve more room to nudge his way into the crook of his neck.]

[capnrogers]

[ Steve is more than happy to remain something steady for Bucky to lean into- in every kind of way. The thing is, Bucky's still that rock for him too. He knows it's harder for him to imagine he could be these days, but he is. ]

Then I am so lucky that I get to be here with you.

[Bucky's head tilts, and Steve's lips follow. Soft, warm kisses pressed along all the skin he can reach. Bucky deserves all the affection in the world.]

Now... do you still want your snack, or can I take you to bed?

[notworthallthis]

[He's trying to reframe the way he thinks of himself, but it's...a slow process. Glacier speed, really. Until then, he knows Steve can believe in him enough for the both of them.]

Depends on your plans for going to bed. [He says softly.]

[capnrogers]

[ Steve absolutely will, until Bucky believes it, and even further than that. ]

I was hoping I could start by kissing you all over, and then go from there?

[notworthallthis]

That does sound really nice. [He admits with a soft hum of approval at the idea.]

👀

[capnrogers]

Yeah? Good. I really think so too.

[He's already kissing along Bucky's neck, but now he starts moving them toward the bedroom, nice and slow. Kissing Bucky is his absolute favorite thing, and he's never shy about going in for them when he gets the chance. ]

I just wanna love on you all night. Make you feel incredible.

I'll write to a fade to black point, if you want, I just don't write full-on smut, fyi but 👀

[notworthallthis]

[His words are spoken between short, peppered kisses as he follows him, chasing the chance for more.]

That... actually sounds... really... really good to me. [He chuckles softly.]

Oh okay! You can fade them out wherever you feel more comfortable!

[capnrogers]

[ Steve smiles into each kiss that Bucky chases, happy to meet his lips when he can. Once they hit the bedroom, his hands slide under Bucky's shirt, caressing his skin with his fingers splayed out, hoping to slide his shirt off of him once their kiss breaks.

He wants Bucky to feel good tonight. Special, and worth loving, because that's all Steve sees in him. ]

perfect 👌

[notworthallthis]

[There's a dilemma presented when Steve's fingers slip underneath his shirt: He doesn't want the kiss to end, but he does want his shirt out of the way. The kiss breaks anyway, because he needs oxygen and he takes that moment to let Steve slip his shirt out of the way.]

You next- [He murmurs, kissing him again, but grinning into it at the same time as his fingers tug eagerly at the hem of Steve's own shirt.]

[dysmorphics]

The letter finds its way back in the drawer, though this time it's been stuffed into an envelope, now addressed to him, along with a torn off portion of a letter written with faded ink on weathered parchment. The handwriting is hers. Clipped to the paper is a photograph, from before she'd been given the serum, though in it she's thinner and frailer than he probably ever remembers. Scribbled on the back are long-faded notes; the words are hard to make out, though there's "subject" and a string of numbers and letters. Both items are marked somewhere as SHIELD property.

I'm dying, Buck. I never told you because you were leaving, and I know how much it means to you to be out there, fighting. Maybe your life would have been spared had I asked you to stay. But regret is a poison that guarantees a slow, painful death. I do not wish for you to suffer it as I have.

Perhaps we'll meet again, in another life. Maybe by then I'll be brave enough to let you fall in love with me.

Yours forever,
Stephanie

[notworthallthis]

When he finds it, it's because he's rummaging in his desk for something else. But it's the picture that gets his attention. Haven't seen that one before- except the casualness of that thought evaporates the second he actually picks it up and takes in the look of her in it. He feels a knot in his stomach. Steph had always been small and sickly, but... this is different. This is the kind of frailty you see in people at the end of everything. He sinks heavily into the chair at the desk, staring at this picture he'd never seen in his life.

Once the initial shock of that photo has passed through him, he turns to the note with such familiar handwriting, one hand clamped over his mouth as he does. His eyes skim the words, hitting all the important parts to just get the meaning of what he's reading in as fast as possible- habits from HYDRA he hasn't been able to give up; he always had to memorize things for missions so quickly.

But he takes his time with it on a second read. Lets it all sink in real slow on a third. Is this why she'd taken the serum in the first place? She was already on her way out, if it had killed her, it at least would have all been over, right? He knows how she thinks.

With both things still in hand, he gets up and heads back into the main part of the apartment, finding her in the kitchen. "Hey... what—what is this?" He waves the items in his hand and pushes them toward her. "Is this why I took the serum?" He's not mad or upset, just a little shocked, and he tries to put the rest of his life in order in his head with this new information.

[dysmorphics]

"Hey." It takes her a second longer to look up from her sketchpad, but she does in time to see the note and photo in his hand. Her smile falters. She'd already forgotten about that, actually. It had been a while since she'd found his letter (she'd been extra nice and clingy that night, which isn't something entirely out of the ordinary by now) and she'd decided, in turn, to add her secret stash of documents to the pile.

She sets her pencil down and shifts to face him, setting aside her latest art project and large cup of coffee for the moment. She doesn't touch the items, just glances at them, before sighing softly. "When I found your letter," she begins, "I wondered why you didn't just give it to me. I thought that maybe you weren't ready to talk about it, even if you wrote that you'd be up to it if I wanted to. And I... I know none of that matters anymore." She gestures to the items. "But we said no more secrets, so I left those with your letter, in case you ever wanted to know the story one day."

Does it make sense? She hopes it does. She idly traces shapes on the countertop with her finger as she continues, "After you left for the war... I know you didn't leave me but it still felt like you did, and I... well, I guess these days they'd say I was depressed. I wanted so desperately to follow you, but nothing I tried worked, not even applying for the nurse corps. So my health grew worse and worse until I was back in the hospital and they told me I didn't have long, but there was an... experiment, of sorts, and didn't I want to serve my country? With you gone, I had nothing more to lose. If it worked, I could be out there with you. If it didn't, then at least I'd have tried."

She shakes her head. "You couldn't have known. I stopped seeing your family. I didn't want them to worry."

[notworthallthis]

"Honestly, I- I forgot about that letter. I kept thinking there would be a good time to give it to you, but I always lost my nerve about it." He shrugs a little, "I guess we've probably covered everything in it by now, though..." Through so many late-night talks and 'Come to Jesus' meetings over time, there was nothing in his past, no matter how dark, that she didn't know now.

"They targeted you-" he says with a scoff, shaking his head. "You tried so many times to get them to let you in, they- they knew you'd say yes. You were already desperate before that and then-" he breaks off and shakes his head again.

The truth is, none of this matters now. Not really. Because she's here, alive and whole, and so is he. But that picture was like a shock to his system, and he's not sure what to do with what it's making him feel.

[dysmorphics]

"It still made me cry though," she admits with a small smile. Then she opens up her arms. "Come here, you." Not that she actually waits for him to move, the gesture more of a signal that she's about to approach and give him a hug.

The hug is also for what she'd dropped on him. It really doesn't matter anymore, but she can sense that he's feeling something about it. Maybe guilt that he'd been part of the reason she did all that she did? But if she hadn't done any of that, they wouldn't be here either. She'd be long dead, and him... probably dead too. Who knows what would've happened to him had he remained a prisoner in Azzano?

"I love you so much," is all she says in the end. "So much."

[notworthallthis]

“It wasn’t supposed to do that,” he says with a soft smile in return. He can understand why it would, but it was still never his intention.

When she moves in to hug him, he collapses into it almost instantly, burying his face into her shoulder. It’s just hard information to have in hand now, and maybe it’s harder still because it’s all so far in the past, there’s nothing he could do about it now. Instead, he just has to grapple with the fact that while he was stuck somewhere completely clueless on the front lines, she was on the brink of death, cold and alone in a hospital somewhere.

[dysmorphics]

She feels the weight of him against her, though she's not sure what exactly drew that reaction out of him. "I'm sorry if I upset you," she murmurs, rubbing his back gently.

She won't be surprised if it's guilt — because he grapples with a lot of that — and she'll just have to reassure him that there would've been nothing he could've done to stop what had happened to her. Sooner or later, her body would've given up, as it had come close to doing. If he'd stayed, she would've remained sick... and things would've been much worse.

[notworthallthis]

For a long moment, he just stays like that, silently clinging to her. Taking in the feeling of her hand tracing warm, gentle patterns across his back.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles against her skin. “I just… I didn’t know. It’s a lot to take in.” He presses a soft kiss just under her ear, nuzzling gently. “That picture…” it’s all he can really get out. It’s going to live in his head now, that almost, that could have been.

[scarletwitchery]

[ Wanda finds the letter by chance. She's looking for something else. She needs to find that pen she likes that she's stashed in a drawer the last time she'd been cleaning. She finds the letter instead.

She reads it. Once. Twice. Five more times. She settled on each word and phrase. Her eyes study the curve of his penmanship and the honesty he's laid to bare in ink. Her chest aches for him. The sweet, wonderful man she's come to adore deserves so much better than what she can give him.

But maybe, in that, they're the same. She finds her favorite pen along with a fresh sheet of paper and offers him the same honesty in return. She'd tell him in person, but she's afraid she'll get it out all wrong. At least this way, she can always crumple the page and start over. ]

Dear Bucky,
I read you letter several times just to truly appreciate the depth of it. I can't tell you how proud I am of you for being able to tell me a of that.

And I hope it was meant for me. I'm going to assume so unless there's someone else who frequents your apartment when I'm not around.

I'm joking. I'm doing it because I'm nervous because you've put yourself so courageously out there, and I want to do the same. You deserve that and more. You deserve the very best because life has given you the very worst. You deserve someone without baggage and ghosts haunting them. You deserve someone who knows exactly how to move forward in life instead of hiding away from the world.

You worry that I'll leave and find your needs too much. The truth is, I worry about that too. I worry that I've overstayed my welcome and taken over your life too much. That one day, you'll gently nudge me out and make me face everything I fear about myself. I'm dangerous and volatile with more power than any single person should have. I could remake the world if I wanted. I can feel that ability everyday pumping through my veins.

When I look at you, I see the darkness, yes, but I see your light too. Your darkness matches my own, and your light guides me to a better tomorrow. Your hands might be drenched in blood, but so are mine. I think they'd fit nicely together if given the chance.

I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. Love doesn't even feel like a big enough word to encompass how I feel. I'm yours. Here, now and forever. And if you ever need reminding, I'll be happy to do so.

Always,

Your Wanda

[ She sprays it with the amber and lavender of her perfume. This time, the letter is placed in his drawers right on top of his sleeping shirts for him to find. ]

[notworthallthis]

The letter might not even really be much of a surprise to her. Not after the notes he’s left her, little poetry scraps scattered throughout the apartment whenever he finds one he thinks she might like— or in some cases, says things he couldn’t find the words for himself.

They share the bedroom now and have been for a little while. He’s still working on staying in bed all night, but at least the nights start with the two of them curled up together, close and warm and safe. He’d left the letter where there was a chance she would find it eventually because he talked himself out of it every time he thought to give it to her himself; this way, it was left a little more to fate.

He’d almost forgotten about it, when he finds a letter in his chest of drawers. It even smells like her. What a sweet touch. Curious, he abandons the idea of a shower for the moment, moving to sit on the edge of the bed to read it. He hadn't expected her to write back to him, but it's kind of cute that she did.

Wanda,

When I wrote that letter, I didn't expect you to write back. If anything, I thought maybe you'd just come talk to me. But I kind of like this. Maybe it's not as personal as being face-to-face, but... it reminds me of being away at war, writing to my sisters and my Ma. Getting those letters sustained me like nothing else. I guess sometimes it's just easier to say things when you write it out.

I thought about bringing it to you a ton of times, but I never did because I didn't know how to even start the conversation. But I guess some part of me knew you'd find it eventually, and whenever you did, that would be the right time, you know? I'm just glad it didn't scare you away...

Maybe you've taken over a little in the house, but it's all things that have helped me. I've told you before, and I'll say it a hundred more times, a thousand more: You've made this more than just someplace I sleep; you've made it a real HOME now, and I'll be eternally grateful for that.

Whatever you have to face, about yourself or anything else, please just know that you never have to do it alone. I'll be with you, if you'll have me.

XOX
-JBB

This time, he leaves it out plainly in the open for her to find on the pillow on her side of the bed. Maybe this is a better way for both of them to be more open, to heal spilling ink instead of blood.