Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

December 23, 1942
Algiers, Algeria, North Africa 

Bucky sat on his bed in the barracks, staring at the letter in his hand. There were two months worth of mail that had finally found him in Algiers sitting on the pillow beside him, and he was frowning at a letter from Becca from late October.

Steve had joined the USO.

He wasn't sure how. For one thing, he wasn't healthy. Yeah, the USO wasn't the Army, but Steve had asthma and heart issues and a laundry list of allergies. For another thing, Steve wasn't a performer, he couldn't sing or dance. He knew a little piano thanks to lessons from Bucky's mother, but while Bucky still played, Steve hadn't touched a piano since he'd quit the lessons at the age of twelve. Was he maybe designing show posters? But according to Becca, he gone on tour. Becca didn't give much information at all, actually.

Bucky reached for the other letters and flipped through them. Four more V-mail letters from Becca or Ellie, three regular letters that probably had the magazine and newspaper articles they liked to send, one V-mail letter from Arnie Roth, three from three different girls he knew in Brooklyn who he suspected just wrote to him so they could say they were writing to a soldier, but absolutely nothing from Steve.

What the fuck?

He tore open Arnie's letter, because last Bucky'd heard, Steve was spending some time with him in Albany.

"What the fuck?" Bucky demanded out loud, like Arnie would hear it and provide an answer for whatever the hell Steve was doing. Arnie made it sound like he hadn't seen Steve in a while, and Becca made it sound like she hadn't seen him either. So, what, he lied about staying with Arnie? Why? Where was he?

Grumbling, he stood and opened his footlocker, dug around a bit, and came up with blank V-mail sheets and a pen. He sat back down with his bible to lean on and started writing.

"That looks like an angry letter."

Bucky jumped and looked up. Ted was standing next to Bucky's cot, grinning at him. He hadn't even heard him come in. He returned his smile. "Hey."

He and Ted had become close since the day he gave him the watch. As Ted's assistant squad leader, they spent a lot of time together on duty, and off duty too. Ted told him all about himself. He'd grown up in Idaho, first in a tiny town called Murray in the mountains of the northern part of the state, then Coeur D'Alene after his mother remarried, then Boise after he fell out with his family. His mother still lived in Coeur D'Alene with his stepfather and half-brother, Kermit. A friend of his in Boise, Stanley Rhees, was listed as his next of kin, his name and address printed on his dog tags like Becca's was on Bucky's.

He always avoided the subject of his mother and stepfather, of what happened between them, but sometimes he would talk about Kermit if he was feeling particularly homesick. Usually he'd talk about Stan, about the other men who lived at his boarding house in Boise. He also spoke fondly of his father, a schoolteacher who'd died when he was twelve.

In return, Bucky told him about Brooklyn. Of riding bikes up and down Flatbush Avenue with Becca and Steve, of sneaking into Ebbets Field with Steve to see the Dodgers, of family dinners and church picnics and movie outings and dance halls and —

Sometimes he felt like he talked about himself too much, but Ted never seemed to mind, asked questions, let him turn questions around on Ted when it hurt too much to think about home. If Ted didn't want to talk either, they usually played cards, either just the two of them or with whoever else was around. Ted had traded a pack of American cards to a Free French soldier for a pack of French cards that were probably made by their war department, as they were stamped with A L’USAGE EXCLUSIF des TROUPES en CAMPAGNE. "Keep the cards nice, fellas," Ted would say around a cigarette as the cards were dealt, "they'll be worth something someday."

It wasn't long after the watch that they'd left Aintree. Since the end of the invasion of North Africa, the 107th had been stationed in a former Vichy French Army base in Algiers. A month ago, a division had been sent east to attempt to take Tunisia, but was unsuccessful. There was some talk of their division being sent next, but frankly, Bucky didn't mind sitting around Algiers for a little while longer. He still remembered being crammed in with thirty other soldiers in the LCVP, pressed against Ted's side. He must have been able to feel Bucky shaking, frightened in a way he couldn't voice as he faced his first real battle.

Ted had slipped a hand into the crook of his elbow, said a couple things like "We got each other's backs, Barnes," and "You can do this," and it didn't stop him being terrified, but it helped. And their entire squad, all twelve of them, made it through the fight with only minor injuries.

And maybe that moment in the LCVP was the first time he considered that maybe Ted had the same kind of feelings for Bucky that Bucky had for Ted.

"So," Ted said, sitting on Bucky's bed facing him, folding one leg up on the mattress, "news from home? Or, uh," he frowned suddenly, "bad news from home?"

"I don't know, really. You remember Steve?"

"Your best friend, yeah."

"Becca wrote, said he joined the USO."

"Oh." Ted looked like he didn't know how Bucky wanted him to react to that. Understandably. "Isn't that good? Wasn't he wanting something to do for the war effort back home?"

"Well, yeah, but she said he went on a tour." He picked up Becca's letter again. "I thought he was staying with our friend Arnie in Albany, but he's acting like he hasn't seen him in a while!" he gestured with Arnie's letter. "Why would he be touring? He doesn't sing or dance or play an instrument. And of course none of these are from Steve."

He glared at the pile of letters. Why wouldn't he tell Bucky he was doing this? Never, in the dozens of letters from Steve since he'd shipped out, did he mention considering joining the USO.

"He's probably written, the letters probably got held up somewhere. And he's an artist, right? Maybe he's doing something with that. Teaching art classes maybe?"

"Okay, well, if I knew you were going to use logic, I would have complained to someone else."

Ted laughed, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and boy, did Bucky love his laugh. "Someone needs to be your voice of reason."

"I used to be the voice of reason," Bucky joked. "Steve's the foolhardy one."

"Well, four thousand miles from home, I think you're entitled to be a little unreasonable."

"Only a little, huh?" Bucky put the letters with the rest of the mail on his pillow and leaned back. "I dunno, I just — I worry about him, y'know? Either he actually joined the USO, or it's his health and he doesn't want anyone to worry about him. He has a heart condition, y'know?"

"I do. But I'm sure he's fine, Buck. You'll hear from him soon, he'll explain himself, and everything'll be fine."

"Yeah, I hope so." Bucky hoped Steve was okay. He still loved him, in some kind of way, but it was different now. He was his brother, the only one he had. It was for the best anyway, Steve wasn't like that. And optimistically, perhaps foolishly, he thought Ted might be interested.

"It will be." Ted's hand moved, hovered uncertainly for a moment, then landed on Bucky's thigh. Bucky froze, heart skipping as he watched Ted with wide eyes. "You really care about him, huh?"

It was a moment before he remembered what he'd been talking about. "I — yeah," he croaked, unable to tear his eyes away from Ted's. He seemed as nervous as Bucky was. "He's — we've been friends since we were kids, he's family."

"Oh yeah?" His fingers were moving, his thumb stroking the fabric of Bucky's pants. "Then maybe you should write to him directly."

Bucky couldn't stop his exasperated huff. "The problem is, I don't know where he is!"

Ted chuckled, his other hand moving to Bucky's hair, his fingers threading through the strands, and — oh christ. "But if he is with the USO, send it to USO headquarters and they'll get it to him. If he's not, they'll send it back."

Yes, that made sense, it was a good idea, and he could barely track what they were talking about with Ted's fingers in his hair and on his thigh. Steve, they were talking about Steve being an idiot. "Yeah, that's smart."

Ted was very close — he had leaned in so their noses were nearly touching, he could feel Ted's breath on his lips, his warm hand on his thigh, fingers in his hair. "You..." Ted swallowed, eyes dropping to Bucky's lips as he wet them. "You can stop me, y'know."

Fuck.

Bucky closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Ted's. He laughed briefly against Bucky's mouth before returning the kiss. He touched Ted's hand on his thigh, and their fingers tangled together. His lips were soft and gentle and a little tentative, like he was still giving Bucky the option to pull away. And Bucky did, but very, very reluctantly.

"We shouldn't, not — not here, someone could — "

Ted kissed him again, a little more intense, and Bucky forgot to worry about getting caught. "You're right," Ted said, after a long moment when Bucky was breathless. "I wish you weren't, but you're right."

The hand in his hair moved to trace the line of his jaw, and Bucky sighed. "Ted?"

"Okay, okay. One more kiss and I'll behave."

Bucky glanced at the window on the opposite wall, then in the direction of the door. "Only one?"

Ted laughed and pulled Bucky close again. "You know I wanted to kiss you when you gave me the watch?"

His face was warm. "You did?"

"Mm. You were so nervous. It was cute."

Bucky gave a breathless laugh. "Cute?"

"You are. So cute."

He kissed Bucky's nose, then his lips, and Bucky smiled against him. He could handle Ted calling him cute.

And then the barracks door opened.

It squeaked, and Ted lurched back from Bucky. Bucky immediately turned to aimlessly shuffle through the pile of mail on his pillow.

"Hey, boys!" It was Dugan, a stack of his own mail under his arm. "You get anything good in the mail?"

Ted shrugged. "One letter from Stan, nothing exciting." Now Bucky had to wonder — was Stan queer too? Was he supposed to be jealous?

"Becca probably sent more articles, there's a letter from her." Bucky held up the letter, and it did feel thick. "You're the one who got a Cosmopolitan."

Dugan grinned, unfolding the magazine. There was a drawing of a very pretty nurse on the cover. "I'll let you fellas know if there's any good stories in here. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got six letters from my brothers and sisters to read."

With a little casual salute, he retreated to his own bunk and started opening one of his letters. Bucky looked up at Ted, suddenly blank for anything that wouldn't sound suspicious, but Ted smiled at him fondly. "You going to see that picture? The one the USO's showing on Saturday?"

"Now, Voyager? Of course, it's Bette Davis."

Ted snickered. "Good. I'll tag along. If you don't mind."

"Sure, yeah."

Ted nodded. "Okay. I'll leave you to your mail." He winked at Bucky — winked — before turning and heading out of the barracks.

Bucky could still feel the warm press of Ted's lips against his, and he glanced over at Dugan, who had stretched out on his bed with one of his letters, not paying Bucky any attention. Bucky straightened up his mess of mail, lingering over the half-written letter to Arnie. Ted was right, it was better to talk to Steve directly, even if he had to go through the USO.

He let out a slow, heavy breath, trying to calm his still racing heart. Dugan hadn't seen anything, they were fine. And they were going on a date. Sort of. They were going to sit side-by-side in a dark room and watch a picture. Maybe Bucky could suggest finding a drink somewhere after. But where could they even go to be alone, where he could kiss Ted again without risking someone catching them?

For Ted, he'd take whatever he could get. Even if the were never actually alone.