Bucky couldn't remember all the people he had killed but he could remember every single one that he hadn't. There had been Jamie and Lara Morasa, Walker Ellis, Hailey James, Emery Lee, Kelly and Mira Sone, and once when he had gone to a casino/hotel, Nico and Bianca Di Angelo. Nico was a good kid, he knew who Bucky was even if the Winter Soldier hadn't. Bucky had always wondered how that kid had always had hope in his eyes, or had that hope turned into heartbreak and sorrow? He preferred not to think about that.

He hoped Nico was okay. He stayed lost in thought about people he had killed or not killed until a certain someone's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"You okay, Buck?" Steve asked.

"Hmm... oh, yeah. I'm fine," he responded without concentrating on the question.

"What are you thinking about?" Steve knew him too well, not that Bucky was complaining.

"A kid I talked to during my time as the Winter Soldier."

"What did you talk about?"

"World War II, he knew all about me, and you. He told me who I was though the mind control was too powerful, it was a nice night. He was 10 years old, 10 Steve. He knew what happened during the war. His mom was dead and his dad had left him and his sister there. Oh, did I mention his sister, she had read the news about the fall from the train and was suspicious that I wasn't actually Bucky Barnes. Of course, then I wasn't, I was just the Winter Soldier, awaiting orders," Bucky was venting again wasn't he, "Shit, I'm doing it again."

"Sounds like a good memory," Steve was always patient with Bucky's venting, "Hope the kid had a good life."

"So do I. That kid is my hero."

"Not me?" Steve joked.

"You too, but he had so much hope for the world. I wish I could too."

"That's a good dream," Steve said wistfully, "What year was it?"

"Umm... pretty sure it was 1974."

"He could still be alive."

"But not the same. When kids grow up, they lose the shining hope that burned in their eyes."

"When did you get so poetic?" Steve punched his arm, playfully.

"I've always been this poetic. You just never noticed."

"Or you stole it out of a poetry book and decided to sound smart," Steve smiled, the kind of smile that always made Bucky feel more at home with the Avengers, even if some or most of them didn't trust him.

"I always sound smart," he retorted.

"Not when you say," he started imitating Bucky's voice, "Who the hell is Bucky? Since you are Bucky."

"I was brain washed, and you know it."

"Well, I'm glad we have Bucky and not the Winter Soldier."

"Do you two fondue?" Tony walked in and Steve went bright red.

"How did you even find out about that?" Steve asked, outraged.

"Dear ol' dad told me some things," he said, "Also, Cap, the only thing we got out of Alfonso was that HYDRA has someone on the inside."

"Do we know who?" Bucky asked.

"No. I was hoping you'd be able to tell us who, Mr. Winter Soldier."

"Tony," Steve stared him dead in the eye, "You've given us the information. Now I'd appreciate it if you left."

"I still think you two fondue," Tony called, over his shoulder.

Steve turned red again and muttered something under his breath. Then he looked up and smiled like nothing happened, "Do you want to take a walk?"

"Sure."

∆

"New York hasn't changed much since our time," the two of them were walking down the street, the late-fall chill.

"No, it really hasn't," Bucky replied, "Still lots of alleys to rescue you from."

"You are the one with the metal arm," Bucky cringed slightly at the reminder. Whether he liked it or not, he was stuck with the arm unless he wanted to be a one-armed man for the rest of his life.

"Hey. It's super cool to have a metal arm. Plus, it's just about indestructible."

"Are you Bucky Barnes?" a boy's voice interrupted.

"That's me," why do people keep coming up behind me?

Bucky turned and saw the asker of the question. It was a blond boy with tan skin and blue eyes, in a bright orange t-shirt, khaki shorts, and aqua flip-flops. He stood with his fingers twined a boy who had black hair, pale olive skin, and dark eyes, in the same t-shirt but in black and white, a brown aviator jacket that had a rainbow patch on a shoulder, and ripped black jeans. It seemed like the only splash of color the second boy had was the rainbow on his shoulder.

"Will, I can't believe you didn't recognize Steve first," the second one chided.

"You're the one who always talks about Bucky, not Steve," Will replied.

"Uh... can we help you?" Steve asked.

"I suppose you can," dark hair said.

"But first, names," Bucky interrupted.

"Will Solace."

"Nico Di Angelo, pleased to meet you," Bucky went pale.

"Were you staying at The Lotus Casino and Hotel in 1974?" he asked.

"So you do remember me," it was more statement than question.

"How are you like 14?"

"I mean I was born in 1932 so like 80-something years. Right?" he turned to Will and he nodded. "But yes. Biologically I'm 14.

"And you just told them that why?" Will asked, knowing that a lot of questions could have been avoided.

"They already deal in weird stuff. Plus, Bucky saw me as a 10-year-old in 1974, don't you think that's a little bit strange?" they were arguing like Bucky and Steve weren't standing there.

Nico turned back to face them, "Before you ask questions, I want you two to help us settle something."

"But-" Bucky cut Steve off, "Only if you answer all the questions."

"To the best of our knowledge," Nico promised.

"What do you want to know?" Steve asked.

"Do you two like each other? I mean like like," Will replied, both of them went bright red.

"No, of course not," Steve was looking at his feet.

"Well, I'm taking your red faces as a yes," Nico informed them.

Neither responded and both of them looked away. Bucky was wondering why today people kept questioning their relationship. He had asked Steve what Tony meant by fondue and Steve had explained. Did they see something neither Steve nor Bucky could see? The two of them were best friends. Right? There were no other feelings, now Bucky wasn't so sure, but the one thing he was sure of was that Steve was as straight as a line, or at least a computer's line. People can't draw lines very well.

"You have to answer our questions now," Steve reminded them, face still slightly red.

"You'll probably want to sit down then," Nico replied.