Chapter Text
Bucky sat bolt upright in his sleep. “Stop! Don’t! NO!”
Steve crouched on the ground by Bucky’s cot and calmly talked to him. “Bucky. You’re safe. You’re in camp. You’re safe. I’m here, Bucky. Its Steve. No one’s going to hurt you here.”
Over and over Steve repeated the calming litany, until Bucky woke up. Drenched with sweat, he cradled his head in his hands and took several deep breaths.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Steve asked.
Bucky shook his head. “Not now, buddy. Still too raw.”
Steve rummaged in his locker, pulled out a dry shirt. “Here. You’ll sleep better dry.”
“Thanks”.
Bucky stripped off his soaked shirt, and pulled on the dry. As he did, Steve caught a quick glimpse of black markings on his upper arm, sinuous markings that were not there before Bucky left for the front. A concerned look crossed his face, but he decided to not push. Yet.
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Bucky and Steve stood at the rail, watching England come into sight. Something had shifted in Bucky when they left the mainland, easing him. For the first time, Bucky could almost breathe easily. He had come to find Steve, finally able to speak about the torture by HYDRA. He told Steve almost everything, but hadn’t brought up the markings on his arm.
Steve steadfastly looked out over the water, watching the shore come into focus. Waiting. Finally, Steve broke the silence.
“So.”
Bucky stayed quiet a little longer. He opened his mouth, and nothing came out. He shook his head and roughly pulled open his shirt, and bared his left arm. Showed Steve how HYDRA had marked him . Inky almost-letters, too angular in one way, too round in another.
“I don’t know what they mean. But, from time to time, I’d wake up with a new mark tattooed on my arm.”
Steve looked pained, and gingerly reached for the other man. “Bucky…”
Bucky jerked away, pulled his shirt back up.
“Hey, Steve. I got out - you got me out. Lots of the other guys didn’t. A few marks are a small price to pay.”
Bucky knew Steve understood what he wasn’t saying. The marks were a physical remnant of the experience, reminding Bucky of the pain every time he caught sight of them, a trigger for his nightmares. Even though his body had healed, the markings were bleeding wounds on his psyche.
Steve pulled him into a rough hug. “Buck. Hey. What’s a few more marks on a Brooklyn guy? We really shoulda gotten out to Coney Island to getcha a tattoo before you shipped out.”
Bucky slumped into Steve’s side, letting Steve support him the same way Bucky had supported Steve in years past, before the Serum. When everything outward had changed, and nothing important had changed. These two boys from Brooklyn, still shoulder to shoulder against the world.
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Steve was haunted by the marks on Bucky’s arm. While Bucky seemed to be sleeping better, Steve still caught the pained look in his eye when he took off shirt. There had to be something to do to help.
As usual, when he needed to work out his feelings, Steve sketched. He drew Bucky’s arm, and the markings over and over. Then, he started making designs around the marks. He drew the tattoos he had seen on other men in the Army. He added images from the USO tour, parts of the buildings he saw touring Europe. His Lady Liberty had a strong resemblance to Peggy.
After Howard showed him his new shield, paint jobs for it briefly dominated, but ideas for new tattoos to camouflage Bucky’s marks soon started filling his sketchbook again.
Just before they returned to the mainland, Steve had a plan. He requested a brief leave for himself and Bucky. As they prepared to head out on the town, Steve shoved his sketchbook at Bucky.
“Pick a design.”
Bucky looked at him blankly.
Steve fixed him with a look, and repeated, “Pick a design. We’re going to get tattoos. Before we’re out in the field again we’re going to cover those marks.”
Bucky slowly paged through the book, thinking. He turned over the idea of changing the marks to something familiar. To something Steve designed. To something American. It was… it was good. Him and Steve, with the same tattoo. Branded for the world to see as blood brothers.
With more enthusiasm, Bucky looked through Steve’s drawings. Out of the elaborate flags, stars and stripes, and Lady Liberties Steve had drawn, a simple circle and star figure caught Bucky’s eye.
“This one”, Bucky stated, pointing at the final design for Captain America’s shield. “I like it.”
Steve’s grin broke through like the sun, and he grabbed Bucky by the hand and practically dragged Bucky to the tattoo parlor.
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As they stayed on the move, hunting down the HYDRA bases, Steve didn’t have a chance to look much at his tattoo, though the reality of his and Bucky’s matching tattoos was always at the back of his head. Occasionally, he’d glance at his upper arm and think the tattoo was looking a bit faded, but he chalked it up to the lack of proper sanitation and dim lighting. Not that they had much leisure time for him to worry about it, and there were other distractions.
He caught himself staring at Bucky’s arm, where Bucky’s tattoo was. He often saw Bucky touch it, draw courage from the circled star on his bicep. While he tried to be careful to not let Bucky realize how it affected him, seeing Bucky with that design on his arm made Steve feel more possessive than usual of the other man. Steve pushed those feelings down, and steadfastly thought of dancing with Peggy when the war was over. That was a safer topic to obsess over - not how good Bucky looked with Captain America’s - with Steve’s symbol on his arm.
After a few weeks, though, Steve knew his tattoo was disappearing. He figured something just hadn’t taken properly with the tattoo at first. He tried having the tattoo touched up in Paris. When the fading continued, Steve realized the super soldier serum was removing the tattoo the same way it healed injuries. The rings went first, like his skin was being erased from the outside in.
He kept it secret from Bucky - having matching tattoos as well as the design had mattered to his friend. Telling Bucky his was gone would make the change real in a way Steve wasn’t prepared to handle yet. Soon all he had was the faded outline of the star.
Then Bucky was gone. Steve didn’t even have the tattoo as a talisman, a relic. He never hated Captain America as much as he did that night.
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The next time Steve saw Bucky, a star was still on his left arm, the metal one.