59Epilogue: Pancakes
"Hey, Buck," somebody whispered from far away. "Wake up."
Bucky groaned, suddenly conscious of the light beyond his shut eyelids and the soft cloth surrounding him. He shifted slightly, burying his face into the softness under his head so that it would be dark again, and the distant voice chuckled.
Steve.
Well, this was new.
"Yeah, I know." Something was smoothing back Bucky's hair and tucking it behind his ear. "You finally got some real sleep. But hey, it's your birthday."
Birthday...?
Bucky remembered the concept. It was the anniversary of someone's birth. Something at the back of his mind whispered that such a thing called for a celebration, but he couldn't think of any particular reason he ought to be celebrated. Still, he was a little more awake at this point, and pulled his face out of the pillow to crack an eye open at Steve.
Steve's blurry face wore a big smile. "I wanted to ask what you want for breakfast."
Wants. Bucky shuddered and burrowed back into the bedsheets. He felt like it would never get easier to choose things. Not that he'd forgotten how—or that there weren't things he liked or did not like—but he was always terrified of answering the question wrongly, and being punished for it.
The Asset never had wants.
Steve sat down on the mattress, and Bucky felt it slope down under his weight. "It's okay, Buck," he whispered. "There's no wrong answer. It's your birthday. If you want something, and we don't have it, I'll go out and buy it. No big deal."
Bucky couldn't quite follow his line of reasoning, but he did at least understand that he wouldn't be punished.
And now that he thought about it, there was one particular food they'd had for breakfast that he really, really liked...
"Pancake?" he mumbled, lifting his head out of the pillow.
Steve looked surprised, then beamed like the sun. "Pancakes it is."
Bucky sank back into the pillow and gave a shaky, tiny smile.
Steve was throwing things around the kitchen, bowls and flour and eggs and such, trying to prepare for the food. Bucky just watched from the doorway, a little bit confused.
Birthday. Was it really today? He glanced at the calendar on the wall, which Steve kept marked religiously, then snuck back into his room.
Shoved between the mattress and the boxspring was a tiny, secret pile of scrap papers and napkins that he'd been collecting since...well, since he started remembering again. The more recent napkins were closer to the front, but he dug back a little and found what he was looking for—an envelope, the dirty tread of a boot still stained on the back, and a quickly jotted note in the corner.
In half-fading pen ink, it read:
Steven Grant Rogers born July 4 1918
James Buchanan Barnes born March 10 1917
Bucky
March 10th. It was today. These dates had struck him as important when he found them in the museum, and apparently they were important to Steve too.
Bucky would never quite understand that, but somehow it made him feel very warm inside.
Steve didn't just make pancakes. Steve made all the pancakes. Plain ones, blueberry ones, chocolate chip ones with melty smiling faces. He made a stack of them and set it down in front of Bucky, who had been seated at the kitchen table and staring at his envelope for a while.
Bucky looked up, confused. There was a colorful, twisted stick of wax stuck into the top pancake, and it was on fire.
At first, Bucky thought it was a mistake. But then his brain supplied, candle, and he was even more confused.
"Make a wish," said Steve. He stood at Bucky's side and was smiling.
Bucky looked up with a glare. He'd already made one decision today. How come he had to make another one before breakfast?
Steve raised both hands, one of which held a matchbox. "Don't look at me like that. It's a tradition, trust me. You can look it up."
Bucky didn't answer. He just glared at the candle, which was apparently the reason he had to make a decision or his food would catch on fire.
"Okay, if it makes you feel better, it's also a tradition to keep that wish a secret. So you don't have to tell me."
With that, Steve went back to the stove to make more pancakes.
Bucky continued to glare at the candle. It apparently became nervous, and drops of colorful wax began to drip off the top of it and fall into his food. That only annoyed him further, because he was pretty sure the wax wasn't edible.
"Might wanna hurry, Buck. That thing's gonna burn down soon."
So, reluctantly, Bucky tried to think of what he could possibly want.
I wish...to get myself back. To remember who I was. To figure out who I am now. I wish to be with Steve forever.
The wish did not make the candle stop burning. Bucky didn't know what to do next. He got frustrated, grunted, and crouched down with his chin close to the table to glare at it better.
"Oh, you blow it out," Steve said helpfully. "With your breath."
Could have told me that earlier, said a sardonic voice in Bucky's head, and for a moment he was surprised and wondered where it came from.
He tried to exhale, and the flame flickered and danced, but it didn't go out. Bucky wrinkled his nose at it.
Steve started laughing. Bucky looked up and growled at him.
"Okay, okay, sorry!" There were still hints of laughter in his voice, but he waved his open hand and the nylon turner at him in an attempt at peace. "Make a little circle with your lips." He demonstrated, sending a little puff into the air. "It'll work, trust me."
So after giving the candle another angry look, Bucky tried what Steve suggested, and it finally stopped burning and dripping into his pancakes. He pulled out the candle, scraped the wax off, and tossed it aside. Who would want to do that to their food?
As he dug into his pancakes, he could still hear Steve chuckling under his breath, but he was too busy eating to care.
Happy birthday.
The End
A/N: I RETURN! How is everybody? I really intended to get this chapter out before NaNo took over my life, but November kinda got away from me, haha. I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving, if you celebrate it, and I hope you all had a wonderful month!
So the BIG NEWS is that I won NaNoWriMo this year for the first time(!) and in celebration and as a little thank-you to you all for being patient with me, I'm gonna be posting the first four chapters of the draft of RED on FictionPress for you all to read! EDIT: THE FIRST FOUR CHAPTERS ARE UP! Just search on FictionPress for Order of the Aether, and you'll find me!
So that begs the question: what is RED? Well, it's mostly a story about some dorks becoming a found family against their will disguised as an action/mystery story about werewolves and vampires and ancient government conspiracies. If you like my fanfic writing style of humor and gentle worldbuilding through everyday interactions, RED is pretty much that, but as a novel and with action scenes. I think you'll really like it.
That's all I got for now! Stay tuned for a much requested story—and one I'm very excited to write myself—the one where Bucky and Steve deal with their faith, Some Things Still Remain.
Reviews are pancakes.
A Message for Raven: Oh, don't we all want to wrap Bucky up in blankets and keep him safe. I guess all I can do is keep writing these stories and feeding him pancakes. I hope your NaNo went well! Your story sounds really cool, and exactly the kind of thing I wanted to write as a young teen. I hope you had fun with it!
