whtaft:

Bucky Barnes doesn’t look in the mirror anymore.

There was a time where he looked in the mirror near constantly, always checking his hair, his clothes, his teeth. He used to like looking at himself in the mirror; he liked who he saw looking back. But then he didn’t, so he doesn’t. And it just doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

So it’s a surprise the night before the world is supposed to end when Steve starts tracing lines on Bucky’s face with the tip of his index finger.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, quiet, even though it’s just the two of them.

They’re laying together in the room Bucky’s lived in since Shuri woke him back up. There are large windows with thick curtains that Bucky pulls back each morning and a door with no bars on it. The bed is larger than anything he’s ever slept on before, big enough that he and Steve can both lay comfortably with a foot or two of space between them.

But they’re not laying far apart. They’re curled up, pressed into each other with as much skin touching as possible. It’s probably the last time they’ll be able to do this and they know it. Bucky doesn’t look away from Steve, not for a moment.

“You have wrinkles,” Steve says. “I’m following them.”

Something catches in Bucky’s throat, making it hard to swallow. “I hadn’t noticed,” he says. He hadn’t looked in the mirror; he hadn’t realized that much time had gone by.

“It would be hard to notice with that beard,” Steve says, smiling as he gently tugs on Bucky’s whiskers.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Bucky says, flicking the side of Steve’s face with his right hand.

Before Bucky can pull his hand back, Steve reaches up and grabs Bucky’s hand, then presses a tender kiss to his palm before letting it go. He looks back up at Bucky and exhales. “You have wrinkles,” he repeats in a soft tone, somewhere between unbelieving and amazed.

“Is that a bad thing?” Bucky asks, too tired to bother much with vanity anymore.

Steve shakes his head. “We spent a lot of time apart,” he says after a long pause. “And this…” He moves his hand back to Bucky’s cheek. “It’s enough.”

“But you wish there was more time,” Bucky says.

The words hang in the quiet air between them. Outside the curtains, Wakanda prepares for battle. Outside the curtains, there’s a world about to end. But here, all Bucky can hear is the soft rustle of the sheets, the quiet hum of the air conditioning. But here, all Bucky can see is Steve Rogers.

“Is that so wrong?” Steve asks with a small, pinched smile.

“No,” Bucky says. “It’s what I’d wish for, too.”