Chapter Text
Epilogue: Seven Months Later
“Daaaaaaaamn, Barnes,” Clint calls out from where he and Nat sit at a table, when Steve and James enter the bar. “Brooklyn looks good on you.”
Brooklyn does look good on him. James knows it does. Not that he hadn’t liked living at the tower, because he had. Tony’s generosity never stopped amazing James and there were robots there. But as he acclimated to life outside HYDRA’s control, independence was his next big step. He and Steve had moved into an apartment together not far from their old neighborhood.
They’d moved out on Monday and now it’s Friday, and this has been James's best week yet.
“It’s the jeans,” Natasha muses.
The jeans are new and they are fashionable and they are also a little tight but Steve can’t stop staring at James’s ass in them, so James is sold on their worth. But the jeans aren’t the thing this day that he wants to show off.
“You sure it’s not the arm?” James asks.
The arm isn't what he wants to show off either, but he needs everyone here before that big reveal. The arm is from Tuesday, and it’s awesome. Tony’d put some certifiable weird-science into it and it can look like metal or it can look like real skin, and James only has to press his thumb and forefinger together in a quick flick for the design to switch. For now, it’s skin. Skin makes more sense in public.
“Who’s looking at your arm when these guns are out?” Clint asks, sitting up a little straighter to flex his own right arm into a muscle. The movement makes Clint choke on the tiny straw in his drink, and James laughs.
“So hot, Barton,” Nat teases, using a silly, American Tourist accent that makes her sound vapid and all of 19. "We're all like super impressed."
James and Steve slide into the funky, half-circle booth next to Clint and Natasha and it gives all four of them a view of the exit. It’s the perfect table for a group of spies and soldiers.
“Where’s Bruce?” James asks.
“Sciencing,” Clint says. Clint always seems to know where Bruce is these days. “But he’ll be here soon.”
Steve slides his hand up over James’s thigh and squeezes. It’s under the booth, but Natasha and Clint don’t miss it. Clint elbows Natasha a little too enthusiastically.
“Our little caterpillars are butterflies now. I’m so proud.”
“That was my tit, asshole,” Natasha complains. She sounds entirely like herself and that makes James smile. “You don’t think I’ll stab you, but you keep this up, and you’re getting a fork to the leg.”
Clint busts up laughing and Steve and James join him.
James has friends. They have inside jokes. It’s all so weird.
The waitress stops to take their drink order as Sam walks through the door. He’s only a few steps inside when Tony and Bruce walk in behind him. They all make their way to the table as Tony calls out a drink order to the bartender, who gives him a wave like he knows him.
“Well, let’s see it,” Tony insists.
He plops down next to Natasha and makes grabby hands toward James.
“Haven’t you seen enough of that arm?” Clint asks. “I don’t think we saw you out of your lab more than once or twice last month.”
“It’s not the arm I want to see,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “You didn’t tell them yet?”
“Figured I’d wait till everybody was here.”
All eyes turn to him expectantly. Steve knows why they’ve assembled, but he and Tony are the only ones.
James shifts up in his seat and reaches into his back pocket to tug out a folded piece of paper. He flips it over and slides it toward Tony. It’s not like it’s a big deal, really. It’s just a certificate that says he’s alive. Not under a fake name, but as him... as James Barnes. Tony knows it exists because he shelled out big money for lawyers, and it was largely his political influence that had James declared alive and then absolved of his crimes. Bruce takes the paper next, and reads over it, before his eyes flick up to James’s face.
Bruce’s eyes look ready to spill tears. The good tears. James understands about good tears now.
“Congratulations, James,” Bruce says sincerely. “This is incredible.”
Bruce is all cleaned up, wearing nice clothes, and there are no smudges of dirt on his cheek like there were that day James stumbled into his barn. It’s kind of hard to believe that James is even looking at the same man he’d met that day. Yes, James has changed but Bruce has changed, too.
Natasha gets the paper next, and her smile is soft. Barton’s is triumphant. Sam’s is pleased. Steve’s is proud. James has no trouble identifying any of those emotions. They’re all happy for him. They all care.
When the bar person brings around the drinks, the table gets loud, and James folds up his piece of paper and leans forward to tuck it back into his pocket. He isn’t stressed out by the commotion. He isn’t worried the raised voices me bad things will happen. This is the good kind of chaos, and he has the best kind of friends, and as much as he knows he doesn’t deserve this life, he’ll take it.
After all, it’s his.