captinsoldier:

          (x)

laporcupina:

By his body’s clock, there’s been less than five years from the beginning until now, from knit top to body armor, from showgirl to warrior of legend, from Steve Rogers (aka Captain America) to Captain America (aka Steve Rogers). He’s barely past thirty, which nobody seems to realize or remember. It’s just as well because sometimes he feels all of the ninety-six years the calendar gives him. Never more so than when he looks at the photos and rare scraps of video from before, when he can see how much the transition has cost him and how much of it he paid even before Bucky fell. He never meant for war to become his life, let alone the only thing he understood. And yet it has.

doctorenterprise:

Yeah okay we hear a lot about Bucky stumbling along the road to recovery with Steve’s steady helping hand, but what about when he’s in a place where he’s okay? When he’s got enough of himself back that he can get by on his own? That’s when I like to think about Steve absolutely breaking down because if Bucky doesn’t need him anymore, what reason is there for him to stay? And that’s when Bucky realizes that Steve is maybe not as consistently impervious to self-doubt as he always seemed. In fact, this whole situation seems very familiar to him, so he wraps an arm around Steve’s neck and pulls him in close for a warm, reassuring hug. Just like they did in the old days when Steve was sick and Bucky was scared and they were both hungry as hell. He presses his face into Steve’s neck and murmurs, “you know, punk, I’ve been where you are. Maybe I can get by on my own now, but it sure as hell doesn’t mean I want to.” And Steve realizes that Bucky doesn’t need him, but he’ll always want him – and, somehow, that’s even better.