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Bucky spoke to him before he went into cryo.
Well. More than once. The problem with Bucky was that he was far too perceptive, especially when it came to Steve. Now that Bucky was starting to be able to recognize the weight of his own scars, his own trauma, instead of just inhabiting it all, he could turn that recognition on other people. Wasn't fair, but what was?
Anyway.
This particular time, it was about Tony.
"I know, I know," Steve said, shaking his head.
Bucky plonked himself down on the most advanced hospital bed Steve'd ever seen, opposite Steve's chair, which seemed like a normal chair but probably had rockets attached, or some kind of bot that'd make you a ham and Swiss on rye if you asked nicely enough. Bucky gave him a tired smile. It wasn't free of shadows, but he figured Bucky wouldn't be free of shadows for a long time. Perhaps not ever.
"No, you don't."
"Eh?"
Bucky's voice was calm and natural, which hurt Steve's heart even worse. "I feel like hell about it all, Steve. But I don't mean that. What I mean is, you need to talk to him about you and him."
"Yes, that's the whole point, Buck, he's a good guy and I want to apologize to him and help him when he needs it. Even if he can't forgive."
Steve hoped, desperately hoped, that they'd be able to come to some kind of accord agreement again. The problem with the Accords was bad enough, but they'd be able to find common ground after that. What hurt him the most was Tony finding out about the Winter Soldier murdering his parents. He should've told Tony earlier, in a controlled environment. He'd told himself that he'd know better next time, but in a bitter sort of way given that it was unlikely to come up again.
And, of course, it wasn't Bucky's fault. He wanted to apologize to Bucky over and over, too, but the other man had made it very clear that he did not want that. The hell that Bucky had been through wasn't about Steve, so he'd stopped apologizing after the first two or three and Bucky had affectionately yelled at him. It'd been something like, yes, Steve, I don't love it, but you didn't actually do this to me, so shut the hell up, punk.
"Steve..."
"Yeah?"
Bucky looked up at the clock, and shook his head. "Never mind. I'll see you when I get out of this."
There was a resignation, a hopelessness on his face that Steve absolutely loathed. He put down his tablet and got to his feet, pulling Bucky into a hug. This shouldn't be the only way. But at least Bucky was choosing this.
The warm weight in his arms shook a little.
Shuri and the others came in a few seconds later.
***
Steve sat down at the little wooden table in their little hotel suite. It wasn't much. Two bedrooms, a kitchenette, and a living area, and now the living area was occupied by a Black Widow, a Falcon, and a freshly washed Cap. It was his turn to sleep on the couch, though given it looked more comfortable than the beds with their motheaten quilts, he really didn't mind too much.
In the three months that they'd been on the run after Bucky'd gone under, they'd fallen into a kind of rhythm together. It wasn't the least stressful way to live, but it was kind of nice.
"He's basically a decent man," Natasha said calmly.
"Who, Stark?"
Sam laughed, pushing a fork across the table to him. "You could just talk to him. Not gonna say he's on my Christmas card list, personally, but he's not a complete asshole."
"I message him now and then," Steve said, looking from one to the other. Perhaps there was a gas leak in this ramshackle hotel coming from the TV or something. The two of them had been out here while he'd showered.
Natasha shoved the fried rice his way, and shook her head at him. Her hair was a lighter red at the moment, in a plait down her back. Looked good. She took a sip of her tea, and he felt his face begin to flush while she gazed at him. She said eventually, "Not about coordinates and offers of firepower."
"Oh," Steve said, and then his eyes flicked from one to the other. "Oh."
"Yeah, it's pretty obvious."
"Shut up," Steve said back to Sam, which was something that Sam would a) ignore and b) find funny, so there wasn't much point to it. Sam snorted with laughter with a piece of chicken about to fall off his fork. Steve sighed. "I. Didn't know it was quite that obvious, and we definitely don't need to talk about it."
Time to eat. If he was eating then he couldn't be expected to talk, right? He took a bite out of a spring roll. It was good enough, just the right type of crunch mixed with an oily texture and fresh vegetables.
Natasha said, "He's probably interested," and Steve immediately choked on his mouthful.
A strong hand thumped him three times on the back, and then Steve was able to swallow. He grabbed Sam's wrist with a nod of thanks.
"He's still in love with Pepper," he managed eventually.
Sam's face fell, and Natasha's eyes softened.
They continued eating for a while, and Steve cursed himself inwardly that he'd stopped the conversation dead. He liked the easy rapport that they'd built. At least the food was reasonably good, and he mourned that they'd have to move on again in the morning. Mrs Zhang had taken care of them very well.
"You know some people can be in love with more than one person," Sam said as Natasha went into the bathroom.
"I like Pepper a lot," Natasha said as she came out of the bathroom, "but I'm not sure she deserves to be stuck with Tony even if he's still in love with her."
"And I do?"
Natasha laughed, and Sam grinned, cutting himself another slice of cheesecake. It was caramel brownie cheesecake. Awfully good.
Sam said around a mouthful, "If you're sure, Rogers."
Steve nodded. "He's in love with Pepper. It's obvious. I wouldn't want to get in the way of that even if I had a chance. And that's okay."
It'd be nice to be able to believe otherwise, but he just couldn't. Wasn't like he - or anyone else in the world - always got exactly what he wanted, anyway. His best friend was unconscious, but alive, and he'd see him again someday. He had two good friends with him, even though he couldn't be with his other good friends. There were always good things and bad things. He'd be fine.
When the two of them went off to bed later, Steve had put down his pillows and blankets and was sitting on the couch. Natasha kissed him on the forehead, and not to be outdone, so did Sam.
...so maybe it wasn't okay, not at all, but he'd have to deal with it anyway. He smiled as he settled himself for sleep.