Chapter Text
November 13, 1945
Dear Buck,
How are you? I’m writing ya from the front of my house, I bought a house, it’s down the road from my ma and a town over from my sister and her new husband. I’ve been thinking England doesn’t have the same trees as us here ya know? And with fall creeping in, those Sugar Maples are putting on a show with their orange, red, and yellow hues.
Never paid much mind to trees before, but now I find myself gazing at 'em more than I probably ought to. We missed summer by a hair, and ever since I got back, there's been a nip in the air that's got me feeling some kinda way. England was chilly, Germany was downright freezing, and I've been pining for home so long, I plum forgot it might not be all sunshine and warmth when I got back. I can’t I feel like
Buck I think I left something out there, like something of me fell away in Germany.
Ma keeps telling me I just need some time to adjust, but I can't shake this feeling of being off. She even tried to set me up with one of the Red Cross girls here, but my heart just isn't in it.
I think about you often, Buck.
Say hi to the Miss for me,
Bucky, Don’t count on it, Egan
Summer had been long gone by the time Bucky had started interacting with the world again. He’s seen the looks his mum had been sending him for the last two months but he didn’t know how to explain to her that he couldn’t look at his neighbors without thinking of the bombed out husk of a town he’d nearly died in. Or that every time Lacy Mann went by he did a double take because the blonde of her hair was just so similar to Bucks.
And Buck, it had taken him two months to cave and pen him a letter, there was something to be said for getting a break from his brothers in arms but he hadn’t been separated from Buck in nearly two years, and before that it was only for a matter of weeks between him leaving America and Buck landing in England.
Really the only other time he could compare to this was when Buck had been shot down and he thought he was dead. But he wasn’t dead, he was alive and well, actually if things had gone as well as Marge’s letters had hinted he was probably doing splendidly and getting treated like a hero.
He was a hero, he’d saved countless lives during the war as a pilot, as a leader to the 100th, as a POW keeping his men alive. He’s saved Bucky more times than he could count, more than he would admit surely.
November 14, 1945
Bucky,
I’ve never been great at letters but I’ve been wonderin’ what you’re up to. Lander is exactly as I left it, not a brick outa place… you ever think it’s weird how all those homes in London are shot to bits and we just get ta come back like it never happened? Everyone keeps sayin’ it’s time to move on but I’m not sure what movin’ on means now.
Marge and Mama are going full steam ahead with wedding plans for the spring, they keep tryin’ to ask me for opinions and I guess it's just hard to get excited about it when I'm still feeling a bit lost.
Anyway, just wanted to shoot you a quick note and let you know I'm thinking about you, always. Drop me a line when you get a chance, alright?
Don’t count on it,
Buck
Home was exactly as Buck remembered it, the leaves were just starting to turn when he arrived home and everything was perfect. Marge was perfect, his mum was perfect, his sisters were perfect.
So why did everything feel so wrong.
He’d considered writing to Bucky so many times but each letter had come out all wrong, he didn’t know how to say what he meant in a letter, Bucky had always bee there beside him through it all, he needn’t have explained himself.
But now nearly two months since he’d gotten home things had settled into a pattern and he wanted to hear from Bucky, he needed to know how he was doing.
Marge and his mum we’re going full speed ahead on the wedding plans and much to their annoyance the only thing Buck had had an opinion on was his groomsmen. Crosby, Rosie, DeMarco.. “The Boys” he’d said, the one's who’d made it home, and for the one’s who didn’t. And Bucky, he’d written Marge that Bucky had agreed to be his best man so that wasn’t even a question he’d thought he had to answer.
Marge had frowned, something she’d been doing a lot of lately.
“What about your friends here? Don’t you want them to be there? And I know Harley would love to be your best man, he was your best friend in high school!”
Now it’s Bucks turn to frown, he hadn’t talked to Harley since… Well since the war. Harley had taken a position at a grain mill and when the draft had come out he’s gotten an exemption as ‘essential’. Buck had been working at the mill too and gotten the same exemption, one he’d immediately ignored and joined up.
They’d never really seen eye to eye on some things, but as far as small towns went they’d been each others closest friend. Buck wasn’t sure he’d had a best friend until Bucky.
So in the interest of compromise he’d smiled “How ‘bout he stands with the rest of my boys?” Marge’s face hadn’t lost it’s frown all together but she’d dropped it.
December 5, 1945
Buck,
I got a dog, her name is Candy, she’s a golden retriever and thinks all of my shoes are for chewing. Which might be all they’re good for cause I never really go anywhere anyways. You’ll be glad to hear she found a good use for my sheepskin, it’s a great bed.
Christmas is going to be quiet this year, my sister is goin’ up to see her in laws and ma isn’t keen on doing much.
I got a camera, I thought maybe I could send you some photos of the new house. Happy Birthday Bu ck.
Say hi to the miss for me…
Bucky
Sometimes before Bucky’s fully awake he forgets he’s home, it happens more when he brings his jacket to bed, but Candy likes it so much he can’t really say no to her. On those mornings he wakes up one of two ways, in a cold sweat ready to punch the nearest Kraut, or drowsy and reaching for a man who isn’t there. Who hasn’t been there for months, and should have never been there.
The war took a lot of things from Bucky but his ability to sleep is by far the worst.
At least Candy is here.
December 24, 1945
Bucky,
You remember last year, when the Krauts handed out the red cross packs and we gave each other Chocolate bars even though they were exactly the same. You wrapped yours in some bible pages outta one of the ruined ones and I wrapped yours up in an envelope…
We said we’d be home for this one, but I wasn’t thinkin’ it’d be quite like this. It’s cold here now and Marge made me new mitts and a hat, I think she tossed the one I brought home.
How’s Manitowoc? Did you ever buy that house your mum sent ya? I was thinkin’ about getting a dog but Marge say’s we don’t have the space and she doesn’t want to have a baby around a young dog, so I guess that makes sense.
Have you been well? I’ve heard from Crosby a few times, well actually we’ve been writin’ weekly, he’s good, the baby is crawling already.
Anyways, write me back soon.
Don’t count on it,
Buck
He and Marge exchange Christmas presents on Christmas Eve. They’ve been doing this since they were 16 and Gales dad would scoop up anything slightly nice he got to barter or sell, Marge gets him a new jacket, it’s in line with all the other gifts he’s gotten recently. Mittens, a hat, boots, anything that came home with Buck it seams finds it’s way into the back of a closet, the attic, out of sight out of mind he thinks.
They still haven’t talked about the fact that Buck is still in the air force, he’s on extended leave but by the time they’re married he’ll have to decide where he wants to go. What he wants to do for the rest of his life, there’s no war to fight now but the military will always want pilots he supposes.
“Try it on” Marge urges brightly pushing the brown corduroy into his lap “I want to see how it looks” her smile is blinding and Buck can’t help but smile back. This is what love feels like, blinding happiness and the joy of seeing your partner happy.
“Course” he mumbles lowly a small smile on his face as he moves to maneuver it on without jostling Marge from her half on half off place in his lap. This is new too, before he went away Marge was rare to touch him but since he’s returned it’s like she wants to glue herself to him.
It was okay at first but there’s only so much touching he can take these days before his skin itches, years of no contact and his upbringing all lead to one result.
The only exception to this had always been Bucky, no matter when, no matter how, Bucky’s touch was like a balm to his frazzled nerves.
The jacket fits, he hates it, he smiles anyways, because he’s in love.
January 1, 1946
Buck,
Merry late Christmas, I got a letter from Cross last week, just sayin’ Merry Christmas, and I realized I hadn’t actually said it in my last letter.
I was thinkin’ a lot on Christmas, do you remember last year when we swapped those chocolate bars? We laughed pretty hard that night when we realized we’d had the same idea. I did one up ya though, do you still have the hat I got ya for your birthday? I don’t blame you if you don’t, it wasn’t the nicest thing and maybe you didn’t want to think about last year… anyways.
Happy New Year,
Bucky
Buck’s birthday had been a complicated thing for the last few years. As much a thing to celebrate as something horrible to mark the passage of time. In the Stalag he’d wanted to give him anything, something to remind him that it mattered and was something to be proud of. He got him a hat.
It had cost him a pack of cigarettes and his only book on baseball but it was worth it when Buck had smiled and pulled it over his much too long blonde hair, it barley covered his ears but it was worth it.
They’d been sharing a bunk for over a month by that point, the bitter cold seeping in under the door and through the drafty windows, everyone had doubled up by mid November. They’d started calling it puppy piling, the Germans didn’t care Bucky figured they were doing much the same in their bunks.
New year meant leaving the war, the camp, Buck and Bucky, in the past. 1946 was a fresh start, Bucky had never been less certain about the future.
January 11, 1946
John,
Happy New Year, we made it. It was touch and go for a bit there but we did it. Home, safe, in one piece. Exactly how we wanted it.
I hope you’re doin’ well,
Gale
1946 started with a bang, the locals had gotten a hold of fireworks and set them off indiscriminately.
Marge was the one who found him.
He’d gone into get a water a few minutes before midnight, something to cheers with all of the happy family, which had turned out to be the best care scenario.
The first firework went off like a shot in the night, red lighting up the sky like a flare in the distance. Red lighting up the sky. Lighting up the sky. Flak in the sky. Light. Sky. More flak. The cockpit is freezing, he turns to his co pilot to get a bearing on the situation and- oh god.
There’s so little of the mans face left but he would know that jacket anywhere, those eyes glassy as they are. Bucky. Dead. Gone. More Flak.
“Gale” Someone’s calling his name, but he can’t look away from John’s face “Gale!” there’s a hand on his shoulder and he flinches so hard his head smashes into the metal wall- no, not metal. Wood, he’s in a kitchen, not a B-17, he finally meets blue eyes but they’re not the ones he wanted, not the ones that haunt his dreams lifeless.
“Gale, baby” Marge’s hands are on his face cupping his cheeks as he pants shallowly “What’s wrong, how can I help?” her voice is frantic as she tries to calm him like a wild animal.
He chokes on his words, his breath starting to return to normal “Bucky” he finally gets out “he-” Marge cuts him off before he can finish.
“Is at home, with his family” her voice isn’t cold but it’s stern, like she’s reprimanding him for getting a quiz wrong “He’s fine Gale, John went home, you’re fine I’m here”
“Right” he whispers suddenly feeling very very tired “of course I’m just being-” he doesn’t know what he’s being really. Sick? The boys had talked about something like this a few times, the kind of thing that got you sent home. Some prayed for it, others like Buck and Bucky prayed against it. To be sent home for an overactive imagination, sent home like a coward. But he wasn’t in England, he wasn’t in Germany, hell he wasn’t even at an air force base training like he should be. No he was home, and he had never felt more alone.
January 21, 1946
Gale,
My sister’s having a baby, so that’s good. We haven’t had a baby in the family since before the war. Ma’s been trying to set me up with more and more girls, I think she’s gettin’ worried about how much time I spend in the house. I don’t mind though, Candy is here and she listens, she’s helpin me write this letter right now.
She loves the snow but I can’t really get my head right in the cold so I wait for her by the window, she doesn’t seam to mind, shows off how far she can jump and everything.
I don’t sleep too well in the cold, sometimes I think I slept best when we double bunked.
John
Despite repeated attempts to reach out, Gale remained elusive. Cros, Rosie, DeMarco, and even Lemmons had all communicated with him, but still no word from Gale.
At first, John tried to brush it off as issues with the mail service - post-war chaos was bound to cause delays and disruptions. He also considered the possibility that Gale had moved in with Marge and was focused on getting settled in his new home before dealing with any lingering issues from their time at Stalag. But as the days passed and there was still no response, John couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going on.
The thought crept in - what if Gale was done with him? What if he had returned home and realized all the sacrifices he made for Bucky, all the times he put his own well-being on hold to keep Bucky sane in the prison camp, were for nothing? John's stomach churned at the possibility.
He knew Buck had sacrificed countless hours on him since basic training. In fact, he often felt guilty for the amount of time and effort Buck put into their friendship. But he always believed that Buck enjoyed being his complementary half, like ying to yang, balancing each other out perfectly. They were known as Buck and Bucky, inseparable friends for five years now. They’d spent almost every waking moment together for five years, and yet there was nothing to show for it.
He missed Buck, he missed all of the boys, his family tried they really did but he knew the darkness that had crept into him over five years unsettled them. Where he used to laugh he now frowned, the jokes that made him laugh before the war held no humor, and most alarmingly to those who’d known him before the man who’d swept every young girl off her feet at the dance hall no matter their availability was no where to be found. John Egan was gone and the man who was left in his place wasn’t someone his family could find the right words for.
February 8, 1946
John,
We’re sending out wedding invites next week, I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but if you still want to be my best man, you are, my best man, that is.
Gale
The relentless nightmares had become unbearable for Buck, so much so that he resorted to sleeping on the lumpy, worn-out couch in the living room. Marge tried to reassure him that it didn't bother her, but he could see the weariness and sadness in her eyes every time he woke up with a scream lodged in his throat, Bucky's name on his lips.
Betrayal.
Offering to sleep on the couch was more for his own sake than hers; seeing the pain and disappointment in her eyes was slowly killing him. He couldn't bear to witness his best friend dying again and again in his dreams, or to be haunted by Curtis' accusing voice, reminding him of all the ways he had failed them. Least of all did he want to be back in Stalag III, reliving the horrors of war alone in his mind.
But this was the price he had to pay for his past mistakes, for not being better, braver, smarter. If only he had been, maybe Bucky would still be speaking to him. But as John had finally come to realize, Buck was worthless. And if anyone knew what was good for them, they'd drop him before he got them killed too.
February 15, 1946
Bucky's day had started off poorly; he had plans to visit his sister, but unfortunately woke up with a fever and with the baby he really didn't want to risk spreading any illness, so he decided to stay home. Candy, as wonderful as she was, didn't seem to understand that Bucky wasn't in the mood to play. He closed her out of his room and attempted to sleep, but was interrupted when she stopped whining and went eerily quiet. She had eaten another pair of his shoes, specifically his dress shoes.
The final straw was when the mail arrived, and sitting on top was a cream envelope addressed to him in beautiful calligraphy. It had been four months since he had received any communication from Buck, and as he ripped open the thick paper, his hands trembled.
Dear John Egan,
Join us in celebration!
You are cordially invited to the joyous occasion of the marriage of
Gale Cleven & Marjorie Ruth Spencer
Saturday, the twenty-first of April, 1956
at two o'clock in the afternoon
Lander, Wyoming
Love is an adventure, and we're ready to embark on ours together. Please join us as we exchange vows and begin our journey as husband and wife. Your presence will make our day truly special.
RSVP by May 15th, 1956
PS. Groomsmen and Bridesmaids are asked to arrive no later than 8am on the 21st.
The wedding, he knew Buck had said Marge wanted a spring wedding but for some reason it hadn’t really occurred to him that it would be this spring. Moreover when Buck had asked him to be his best man in Stalag III he’d sort of thought he would know something before the invitations went out, or have any idea what Gale had been up to in the months leading up.
February 18, 1946
John Egan
YES -RSVP
NO - Plus One
The letter arrived in a plain manila envelope, its bright yellow-orange color standing out among the pastel and white letters that filled their mailbox. It seemed almost comically out of place, but that was typical for John - he never did things the normal way.
Marge barely got through the front door before Gale pounced on her snatching the letter out of her hand. She knew what it meant even before he said it.
"He's coming," he announced, after scanning the short note, as if saying it aloud made it more real. He couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face, feeling like this was his first genuine smile in months.
Gale looked over at Marge, expecting to see excitement or relief reflected back at him. Instead, she was glaring at the envelope in his hand, her expression contorted with a mix of emotions.
"I know it's not the fanciest envelope," Gale chuckled, "but Bucky's never been one for letters. I'll make sure to send him off with some nicer ones so you don't have to see these again." He waved the envelope like a white flag of surrender.
Finally, Marge turned to look at him, her forced smile more of a grimace. "That's a good idea, Gale," she said in a light tone, but her frown betrayed any true happiness.
April 20, 1946
Buck stares into the mirror in their bedroom eyeing his tux up and down like it would make it feel any less odd.
For the last 2 months he’s been reciting the same thing mentally over and over again.
“He said he’d be there, he’ll be there.” he just hopes it’s true.
April 21, 1946
07:15
Bucky pulled nervously at his collar as he pulled up to the white church. It was 7:15 in the morning but he’d wanted to be early, to see Gale before the whole thing really started.
Parking his car haphazardly he groaned as his joints popped in succession, the drive had taken the better part of two days and he’d slept at a motel in town last night just to make sure he wasn’t too tired and got caught yawning during the ceremony.
Which was why he was here, to see Buck get married, Buck who until 2 months ago he hadn’t heard a word from. Buck who’d obviously wised up and dropped him like he should have years ago.
Shaking his head Bucky slowly began to walk to the front of the church, it was a real traditional thing, white steeple, stain glass, a small cemetery out back with lovely neat flower beds. It was exactly the kind of place Bucky imagined Gale getting married.
A few other cars dotted the parking lot, most likely belonging to family and friends who were helping set up for the big day. But Bucky's eyes immediately locked on to one particular vehicle - a small blue 1941 Buick Century. Buck had saved every penny during training just so Marge wouldn't have to walk to the factory everyday. Bucky remembered vividly helping him drive it across country to their home and then back again in his own car, a 1932 Ford Roadster - once his pride and joy until he fell in love with flying B-17s.
Hoping the steps two at a time Bucky’s hand was on the door handle pushing through when it swung open, he only had two seconds to make eye contact with very familiar blue eyes before they were tumbling to the floor in a pile of uncoordinated limbs.
He couldn’t help the laugh that bellowed out of him as he tried to sit up slightly to look Gale in the eyes.
“Geez Buck if you wanted to puppy pile all you had to do was ask” the blush that rocketed up his cheeks and to the tips of his ears was worth all the time gas, time, miles anything in the world.
"Bucky..." he whispered almost reverently in that deep drawl that had only gotten thicker since returning home. "You came." His eyes searched Bucky's face as if trying to confirm that he was really there. But before they could say anything more, their reunion was interrupted by a frantic voice.
Marge's piercing scream echoed across the room, startling Buck out of his daze. He had been so captivated by Gale's presence that he hadn't even noticed her approach. Her perfectly coiffed blonde hair was still in rollers, a clear indication of her meticulous preparations for the upcoming ceremony.
Buck scrambled to get up, trying not to ruin his suit as he pulled himself out from under Bucky's heavy weight. He couldn't help but feel a bit flustered by Marge's sudden outburst.
"You...you really came," Gale said again, his eyes devouring every inch of Bucky's appearance. Bucky could feel a blush creeping up his neck at the intensity of Gale's gaze.
"Of course," Bucky breathed, mustering a smile. "You asked." For a moment, Gale looked almost bemused before Marge inserted herself into their conversation, looping her arm through his and pulling him away.
“Bucky! It’s so nice to see you,” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with false enthusiasm. “Gale has told me so many new stories about you. I bet the girls will love hearing them tonight at dinner.” Her smile was wide, but it didn't reach her cool blue eyes.
“Yah, yes I’m sure they’ll be great conversations,” Buck replied, feeling a pang of discomfort as Marge's scrutinizing gaze bounced between him and Gale who couldn't seem to take his eyes off of him.
“Marge can I-” Bucky started but was cut off by the sudden arrival of a group of men.
“Bucky!” the holler comes from Rosie as he practically runs across the room to pull him into a hug, followed in quick succession by the rest of the boys ending with Cros who gives him a long look before turning back to the group. “You made it, we weren’t sure you’d be able to” Bucky quirks his head giving a confused look to Rosie.
“Miss my best friends wedding? What kind of best man would that make me?” the words come out light but he doesn’t miss the way Gale flinches and pulls himself free so he can fiddle with his cuffs.
Cros gives him a calculating look and then flicks his eyes to Gale and Marge “Oh we just figured with the distance and all” he says slowly watching Marge the whole time.
Bucky forces a laugh “Nah I’ve made the drive before for less” he smiles and gestures around “and miss seeing all the boys again? Never” this is the truest thing he’s said in months and really does relax for a moment.
Until Marge clears her throat.
“Well boys I think we’ve got some more set up to do, and Gale and I have a few last minute things to go over” she gestures at the flower arrangements and tables “Y’all wouldn’t mind starting to set those up would you?” she says sweetly batting her eyelashes at the group.
For their part the group is largely unaffected, looking to Buck and Bucky before nodding, it’s Cros who speaks “Of course, lets get this started, Buck we’ll see you soon” his voice is light but Bucky doesn’t miss the look he sends Buck.
Marge all but frog marches Buck away while whispering not quite quiet enough “I really wish they’d use your name, Gale is a nice name, Buck sounds like some outlaw or something silly” she shoots a glare over her shoulder aimed at Bucky before they’re out of sight.
No one speaks while they start pulling out the tables and it isn’t until Bucky nearly drops the second table piece that DeMarco breaks the silence.
“Okay, I’m just going to say it” he pauses looking around at the boys and stage whispering “What the fuck was that” Bucky has the strange urge to laugh but sighs and looks at his feet instead.
His hands move on their own continuing the set up while the boys all look at him with a sense of unease before he gives in a collapses into a near by pew.
“I don’t know what you guys want me to say” he says tipping his head back to look up at the ceiling “Buck is… Buck” he has the strong urge to light a cigarette which he hasn’t done in months.
Cros crosses the floor and joins him to his right while the others move to sit on the pews around them, facing in.
“Bucky…” Cros starts slowly like he might spook him “when was the last time you spoke to Buck?” the words hit him like a train and he can’t help the dampness that forms in his eyes. He’s suddenly very glad he’s not looking at any of them.
“Oh you know, for the wedding” he mutters, stretching a sitting back in the pew trying to feign casualness.
Cros isn’t fooled “When Bucky” he tries again and Bucky suddenly finds the bibles in front of him very interesting, poking at them noticing which pages are most used.
“John” Cranks voice is soft but firm, it’s the voice he used on him in the camp when he was being difficult about eating his rations or dragging his feet when they were called to roll call.
He gives, letting his head drop and shoulders fold in on himself “September” he mumbles incoherently.
“Pardon” comes Rosie’s usually happy tone now tinged with anger, Bucky deserves it, Gale hates him, he shouldn’t have come.
“September” he says louder looking at Rosie “He hasn’t spoken to me since September” he knows he sounds bitter but somehow that’s better than sounding hurt.
Crank swears, DeMarko looks like he’s in pain, and Cros shoots to his feet.
“Wait-” Rosie starts grabbing Crosby’s wrist.
“No” Cros says firmly “I have been waiting, I’ve waited and watched and now I’m going to go kick some ass” the last word is hissed and Bucky suddenly knows why the enlisted men were scared of Crosby. This is the man who breaks down doors for shoots and smashes heads into their food.
Crank is the voice of reason “We need proof” Cros nods deflating a bit and Rosie relaxes his grip.
Bucky is just confused.
“Am I missing somethin’?” he muses looking between the boys in their various states of anger.
“Damn it Bucky, do you really think Buck would just drop you?” Crank sounds broken hearted at that and Bucky just opens and closes his mouth a few times before shrugging and looking back at the floor.
Cros grabs him and starts moving “Okay we have 4 hours to fix this before things get messy, Bucky you know where Buck’s house is right?” Bucky nods still completely out of the loop but moving with the group. “Good you’re going to go there with Rosie and DeMarco, Rosie you know what to look for, check everywhere I know she kept ‘em” he looks to Crank “You and I are going to run interference and diversion” Cranks heels click together as he gives a sassy salute.
“Ready yes sir!” he shouts and Cros gives him a look that says he never wants to see that again.
Bucky raises a hand and Cros nearly rolls his eyes “What Bucky?”
“I’m still lost, what are we doing?” Rosie grips his shoulder and stares him down.
“Bucky you know how when you drink you’re really bad at lying?” Bucky nods, he is in fact very bad at lying when drunk “bout 3 years ago we asked you when you were going to get married” Bucky cringes, he doesn’t remember this.
“And without hesitation you said ‘When Buck and I get home obviously’” his face must be the colour of tomatoes right now.
Spluttering he backs up a step hands coming up “listen I was only kidding, I probably meant when he got married I’d do it too” the lie is sour in his mouth and none of the men look like they’re buying it.
Cros does the honors of taking the last of his dignity “Buck’s been writing you” his head snaps up so fast it cracks.
“What” he whispers.
Cros just looks sad “In November Buck told me he’d written you and hadn’t heard back, so I wrote you, and you wrote back” he nods, sure all the men had been in touch, he had photos of Crosby son on his mantle. “So I asked him bout you in December, and he said you hadn’t been in touch, even double checked the address with me cause you’d moved” Bucky shakes his head.
“No” he bursts out hands coming up in defense “I wrote, I sent him letters” Rosie shakes his head.
“Yah obviously Bucky, we knew that, but between the two of you you’ve got enough issues that if one of you stopped writing the other would assume they just didn’t like em anymore” his cheek burn red at that… that was exactly the conclusion he’d come to.
“So what’re you saying?” he asks look between them dumbly.
Cros smacks his forehead “Do we have to spell it out Johnny? Where are we, what are we all doing here? If my fiancé was thousands of miles away and talked about you how Buck talks about you I’d have sent him packing years ago” he sighs.
“Bucky we think Marge was intercepting your letters” DeMarco interjects.
“Marge? Doing what-” he doesn’t even finish the sentence before Crank butts in.
“Look Bucky I’ve know you both for a long time, and it would take a blind man, a dumb man, or a superior who didn’t want to lose his best pilots in the middle of a war not to notice you’re in love with each other” his blood runs cold.
Something Buck and Bucky had never talked about, this thing, this electricity that joined them anytime they were close by, the tether that had drawn Gale to John in basic and Bucky to Buck in Germany.
“No” Bucky shakes his head “You’ve got it all wrong” he’s deeply unsettled now, something they’d never discussed and yet so apparently so obvious to everyone else.
Rosie’s the one who reaches out putting a hand on his shoulder “John it’s okay, actually it’s more than okay” he smiles a fond smile “Do you remember when we met?” Bucky nods, it’s the only thing he thinks he can do right now.
“You were at the bar with Major Cleven and my crew had just told you we we’re known for flying in our skivvies” Rosie blushes and looks a little bashful “It wasn’t my finest moment but it did give me some valuable insight, the second I mentioned skivvies Buck’s eyes shot to you and I swear to god I was interrupting something” Rosies laughs letting his hand drop “It only lasted a moment, Buck is real good at hiding his emotions but it didn’t take much to figure it out after that” he nods at Cros “Cros had a betting pool for how long it would take y’all to figure it out” he gives a small bow and puts a hand out in the direction of Crosby “Which now that I think about it… I just won didn’t I?”
Crosby glares smacking the hand away “Telling them is cheating, I’ll give you your money back and we’re square” Crank laughs loudly.
Bucky is shook to his core.
“You think…. Buck is, in love with me?” it’s more a question directed at himself than the others but they all nod.
“We don’t think” DeMarco says “we know” his look is deadly serious and for some reason Bucky believes him.
“So what do I do?” he asks looking at them all in turn, Crosby smiles and tells him to get his keys.
April 21, 1946
09:00
The search for the letters feels like an eternity to Bucky, his emotions swirling in a chaotic mess. Anger, sadness, confusion, and fear all weigh heavily on him as he struggles to come to terms with the possibility that things may be too broken to fix. DeMarco and Rosie guide him back to the car and towards the church before he can fully succumb to a breakdown.
“He’s been sleepin’ on the couch” Rosie says it, like it’s just a mention of the weather.
“Huh?” Bucky is confused as hell “Why do you say that?”
DeMarco looks back at him, he’d called shotgun while Bucky was still reeling.
“The blankets were folded like his bunk, and there was a letter sticking out from under his pillow” DeMarco shows Bucky a familiar manila envelope “looks like this one slipped through before she could nab it” Bucky frowns.
“So she didn’t know I was invited to the wedding?” Rosie hums.
“No I think she knew you’d have to be invited, but she’d hoped she’d burned the bridge enough that you’d stay away” he laughs “too bad she doesn’t know you” he looks at DeMarco for a second sharing a smile.
Bucky glares “What does that mean?”
DeMarco turns and looks at him “Man you quite literally crashed into Germany, and nearly got yourself killed a dozen or more time for that man, a little light correspondence wasn’t going to stop you” he says it with such conviction John can’t help but smile a little.
“Yah I guess I just thought” he pauses looking at the church as they pull in “I don’t know what I thought, I just knew I had to see him one more time” The corners of their lips twitch in a feigned annoyance as struggles to wrap up his thoughts. To them the idea of Bucky being so devoted to Buck is the most common place thing… which maybe it is.
Rosie, Bucky, and DeMarco meet Crank at the top of the stairs, Rosie pushes the letters into Bucky’s hands and winks “You got this”
Crank gives him an easy smile “Cros has the Miss busy somewhere else, Buck is waitin’ for you inside… told him you had some last minute best man thing to do” he rubs the back of his neck with a sly smile “Not exactly wrong” Bucky swallows nervously and grips the letters tighter.
He closes his eyes and asks the one thing that’s on his mind “What if you’re wrong” it nags at him, the fear of losing Buck forever.
DeMarco grips his arm and he looks him in the eye “We’re not-” Bucky tries to cut in but DeMarco shushes him “But if we were, do you want to go back to Manitowoc knowing you lost Buck because you let him go or because he chose someone else?” Bucky’s eyes burn but he nods. “Good, now go or you’ll run out of time”
This time when he pushes through the door he doesn’t fall onto Buck, no this time the Church is done up in pastel blue and cream flowers spread throughout greenery. It looks like a fairy tale, Bucky considers for just one moment aborting this foolish plan. Who is he to take this away from Buck, to ruin this.
That is until he sees Buck.
He’s at the end of the isle in a tux that hugs his body in the way you’d see in Hollywood, his long lashes are cast down as he reads from some sort of cards, probably his vows, so it isn’t until he registers the door has opened that he looks up and pins Bucky with those endlessly blue eyes.
“Bucky” he says it quietly but in the undisturbed peace of the room he could have yelled it and it would have had the same effect.
His feet lead him down the red carpet like a moth to a flame, and for a moment neither of them say anything.
Until Gale looks at his hands and frowns “Are those…my letters?” the heartbreak is evident in his eyes, the idea that Bucky has had these those whole time is the most obvious and Bucky doesn’t want to see it for a moment longer.
“No” Buck frowns and snags one before looking at Bucky again.
“There’s no ink stamp” his voice is perplexed and he’s looking at Bucky again but this time in confusion.
“No” Bucky repeats feeling like a parrot.
Buck’s face sinks as he looks at one of the manila envelopes, stamped and dated by the Manitowoc post office.
“She never sent them” he whispers it thumbing at the two letters like a lost man.
“No” Bucky whispers one more time, feeling at a loss for words for once in his life.
Buck sinks into the pew behind him and puts his head in his hands, and Bucky for the life of him can only kneel down in front of the man he crossed the country to see one last time.
“You didn’t get my letters” Bucky doesn’t say anything this time, it’s not a question it’s a statement.
“You weren’t ignoring me” a sound like a whine escapes Bucky’s throat and Buck’s head shoots up like he’d forgotten he was there.
“You’re here” he whispers sounding reverent, as if Bucky has done more in showing up than anyone has in the entirety of Gale’s life.
Bucky’s eyes flutter shut as Buck lays one palm on the side of his cheek and presses back into the contact.
“I-” Buck looks to be about as lost for words as Bucky is and settles for just staring at him for a moment that stretches for an eternity. Over five years they’ve had so many conversations like this, endless moments of eye contact where nothing needs to be said, but god John wants to say it and if he’s never going to get the chance again he has to take it.
“Buck-” his voice cracks and the thumb on his cheek rubs softly, soothingly “I thought you hated me” Buck lets out a startled noise and his other hand flies up to John’s face. Bucky continues before Buck cam stop him “I went home Buck, and I bought a house, and I got a dog, and I spent Christmas alone, and my sister had a baby” he doesn’t know why he’s telling Gale all of this right now instead of saying the real reason he’s here first but now that he’s started he can’t stop.
“Ma kept trying to set me up on all these dates, and there’s a girl in town with hair like straw and I had to stop goin’ into town cause I kept thinkin’ maybe it was you but your hair” he trails off lifting a hand to Gales perfect hair “Yours is like sunshine, autumn leaves, its soft like spun silk, the second I turned it was always wrong” Buck’s eyes are closed and Bucky moves closer putting his hands over Gales and cupping them.
“I thought I could do it Buck, I went home, I built a life, and it was no closer to home than it was when I left” a tear slips down his cheek, he’s given up on stopping the tears “Buck, I haven’t been home since the moment we left Texas” he moves closer pressing his forehead to Bucks, breathing in his familiar and yet different scent.
“Buck-” his voice breaks again and Gales hands flutter and clench on his face, he opens his eyes and they pause for a moment “Gale” he whispers “You are my home” Gale lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for the last seven months.
And then he kisses him, Gale Buck Cleven honest to god kisses him.
And Bucky thinks for a second he’s dreaming, until someone screams.
“NO!” Marge is in a white slip obviously most of the way to being dressed for a wedding, and she looks furious.
Bucky is standing first, his hands up in a calming gesture before Buck has even really registered the impact of the situation. But before either of them can say anything Gale clears his throat and turns to look at her, his fiancé, the woman he loves, the future mother of his children and holds up a single letter.
Marge looks like she’s seen a ghost “no” she whispers it this time and Buck just looks disappointed as he walks down the isle to meet her halfway “Gale baby it’s not-” one gentle raised hand is all it takes for her to give up the speech.
When Buck leans down towards her Bucky feels gutted, like he’s crashing into Germany all over again, until his lips land on her cheek and a tear slips down her face. Slowly he takes her left hand and pulls off her engagement ring that Bucky remembers Buck shopping for, he flips her hand over and curls her fingers around the ring into a fist. Her tears are coming in earnest now ruining her makeup.
“Please” she says the one word like a lifeline and Bucky doesn’t need to see Buck’s face to know what expression he’s wearing it. He’s seen it before, in Stalag when he’d given up and Buck was trying to figure out where he’ll burry his friend, it’s the face of a grieving man who’s accepted his fate.
He kisses the top of her head and whispers one word before walking back up the isle and grabbing Bucky’s hand to walk him out the front door.
Bucky turns to him as the door closes eyebrows drawn, “What did you day to her?” his face is sad but less weary than it had been all day.
“Goodbye”
The clean up is less messy than Bucky could have imagined, the boys had been doing damage control and explaining the letters to the family. Leaving out certain parts, but for the most part the family and friends were quite understanding of Buck’s reluctance to marry a woman who was trying to strip him of his service and identity.
Long after everyone else has left Gale’s mum finds Bucky, they hadn’t left each others side for the last few hours but they also hadn’t done the things they wanted to. Bucky wanted to hug him, kiss him, run his hands through his hair but in the small conservative town Gale had grown up in even their air force buddies wouldn’t help against a lynch mob.
So when Gales mum takes a seat next to him on the bottom step of the church Bucky isn’t sure what to say, as it turns out he doesn’t have to say anything.
“Gale is the best thing I’ve ever given this world, and when he was a baby I asked god to give him love” she smiled sadly wiping as her eyes lightly “I said God please give my baby pure love, devoted love, the kind of love that will find him where ever he goes and however long it takes” she looks at John who’s stomach is in knots.
“And when I met Marge I thought, oh he’s out done himself, she loves Gale like cat’s love the sunshine and butterflies love flowers. She wrote him through basic, and flight school, posting after posting and into the war and back out of it” Bucky looks down, his cheeks flushed, shame that would be the most apt emotion to describe this. Gale’s mum isn’t done though, her hand tipping Bucky’s face to look at her once more.
“But Gale wrote me too, and he wrote me about John, he wrote me about his bunkmate and the man who named him “Buck”, he told me about Bucky, and then how they became Bucky and Buck. And before I knew it Gale was gone and the man who’d replaced him was Major Cleven” the sad smile is back and she shrugs “When Gale went to war I tried to make him promise not to let it change him, but you know Gale he can’t make a promise he can’t keep. But John” Bucky straightens up looking at her again “He changed and maybe it’s not all for the best but let me tell you, when I asked God to give my baby love, pure, devoted, and as sure as an arrow. I never expected him to send you”
Bucky’s checks are burning in shame now, ready for the verbal beat down, the homophobic slurs, but she smiles.
“God sent my baby a boy who brought out smiles I hadn’t seen since he was a little boy, God sent a boy who taught him that there could be good in vices, God sent him a man who stood by him to lead his righteous furry against the Nazis, God sent my baby a man who went to Germany and brought him back from war” tears are streaming from John’s eyes now and she cups his face gently much like Gale had earlier.
“God would never send my baby the wrong love, and Major John Bucky Egan, you are the love my baby deserves.” she stands brushing off her dress.
“Gale love’s you like the sun loves the plants, you love Gale like the moon loves the tides, you were made to be loved Bucky, never ever let anyone tell you otherwise” she leans down and kisses his cheeks leaving a slightly waxy feeling “now I have a wedding to clean up, and you Major need to take my son home” and then she’s gone.
Nearly 35 hours later Buck and Bucky pull into his driveway in Manitowoc. Buck read all of his letters in the first 10 minutes of the drive and then spent 20 minutes trying to convince Bucky he didn’t need to read his because none of it mattered anymore. He gave up and read them to him, Bucky tried not to cry, he failed and had to pull over.
When they finally pile into the house they're more than tired, Candy who'd been with Buckys mum was thrilled to see him and immediately wanted to play. Bucky's mum had taken one look at Gale told him he was too skinny, packed them a dinner to take home, kissed John's cheek and whispered "I only ever wanted you to be happy, you look happy" before kissing Gale's cheek, calling him son, and sending them home.
There are a million different ways to say I love you, Bucky has heard it traditionally from his family, in the words said and not said by his brothers in arms, in the care someone takes for you when you're not okay. Now that he knows Buck loves him he can see all the ways he's been saying it for years, letting him name him, following him to the bombers rather than fighters, "like a stone in my shoe", and "don't count on it".
But John's favourite way Buck's said I love you is on the first night as they cross the threshold. Buck is holding Candy and when he turns after closing the door, he's tugged on the collar of his now ruined suit and Buck whispers against his lips.
"I'm home"