Work Text:
┈┉┅━━━ 1
In 2013, March 10th meant nothing to James Buchanan Barnes. Frozen and forgotten by the world, the day passed like any other—just another twenty-four hours of cold settling into his bones.
Another year of life just meant another year of being the Winter Soldier and serving those who destroyed him. Another year of life meant nothing.
┈┉┅━━━ 2
In 2014, March 10th was a day of anger and confusion for James 'Bucky' Barnes. He was still getting used to that name, facing the difficulty of tying it to his own identity. He went to the Smithsonian in the morning and, for the second time in his new life, walked through the section of the exhibit that showed the person he was supposed to be.
It was hard to understand that he was the same sergeant honored with pictures and beautiful words. It was hard to believe when his face in the mirror looked nothing like the picture he'd stared at for several minutes in the half-empty exhibit.
He hardly looked at himself in the mirror, hardly thought of himself. His face and name didn't matter. It was still like he didn't exist, not really. His only identity was formed by the lives he had taken. His only concrete memory was the face of the man who called him "Bucky" and promised to be with him until the end of the line. His only connection to the world was the person he was supposed to be, but he knew he couldn't anymore. The Bucky that Steve Rogers hoped to find had ceased to exist, drowned in all the blood spilled by the Winter Soldier.
It was on that day that James Barnes began writing his memoirs in notebooks, trying desperately to hold on to the idea that this was the same Bucky Steve had seen, trying to convince himself by the memory of the certainty on his face. Pouring the memories into words was a way of tying himself to the person he was supposed to be, a desperate attempt to connect with what had been so cruelly ripped from him.
On the night of that March 10th, the human being trapped in the body of the Winter Soldier and of James Buchanan Barnes looked in the mirror and wished happy birthday to the Bucky who was staring at him from the other side.
They still weren't the same person.
His birthday wish that year was that that could change.
┈┉┅━━━ 3
In 2015, March 10th went unnoticed by Bucky. He was too busy racing against time, trying to escape Steve Rogers and fleeing the rest of the world at the same time. He recognized the date in the morning, in the newspapers being sold on the street, and again in the evening, when he sat down to reread his memoirs and found the numbers scrawled in the corner of a page. He recognized the significance of that fact, but didn't have the energy to realize how much he had changed in the last year.
Now he was Bucky Barnes, despite all the doubts and existential gaps that still kept him away from the mirror. Gradually, the identity of someone greater than the Winter Soldier and smaller than Sergeant Barnes was consolidated. In the process of running from the world, Bucky was running towards himself. That's when he realized he was a new person.
This person needed a name. Though not wanting to disrespect the memory of someone he no longer was, he renamed himself Bucky. He was reborn on the 10th of March of 2015, and the date finally made some sense, but it still went unnoticed by the rest of the world.
It was good enough to start with.
Bucky's new life was just beginning.
┈┉┅━━━ 4
On March 10, 2016, Bucharest brought Bucky a little bit of happiness.
There was no peace. Bucky was still at war, with the world and with himself. Looking over his shoulder everywhere he went was still customary, even though he knew he was the kind of scary thing that made other people look behind themselves with wide eyes and fluttering hearts. The Winter Soldier was still a ghost that terrorized the world and kept Bucky awake. Like the tail wagging the dog, Bucky tried to hide and protect himself from people who have spent the last century doing the same thing to him.
But Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier, and Bucharest was a place he could almost call home. On the afternoon of his birthday, Bucky sat on a park bench, the shadow of his cap covering his face and the sunlight warming everything else. He smiled at a fruit vendor and bought two plums for himself.
That afternoon was a small glimpse of the happiness he had lost so many years ago and desperately wanted back. Bucky managed to smile that afternoon, and then wished he hadn't, afraid the universe was watching, waiting for the right moment to destroy what he had built. He cringed, hating the very instincts that screamed that this happiness would last so little that it would be impossible to remember it afterwards.
Months later, disaster really struck, and Bucky remembered that day. The first glimmer of joy that had seeped through the cracks in his broken life and lit up his world.
But on that March 10, 2016, Bucky came so, so close to being fully happy, it was like feeling the world holding him close after hitting him so hard. In the fresh Bucharest air, Bucky hugged himself and was able to pretend the next fight wasn't running towards him, ready to stab him in the back.
Completely oblivious to the tragedy that would soon be born, Bucky closed his eyes and smiled.
Happy birthday.
┈┉┅━━━ 5
On March 10, 2017, the calm Bucky had found in Wakanda was shattered in the best possible way.
T'Challa was the first person in all those years to remember Bucky's birthday. Forgetting the date thanks to all the occupations he had, Bucky was surprised to see the King approaching along the path he had just crossed with the goats.
Bucky's heart still ached when he looked at T'Challa, unable to see so many responsibilities thrown onto such young shoulders and not sympathize. But T'Challa was strong and he held the weight of the world like it was nothing — Atlas carrying the sky with steady hands and undying strength. That morning, T'Challa also carried all of Wakanda's sunshine into Bucky's heart, and pain wasn't the only thing he felt at the sight of him.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," Bucky said.
“Sergeant Barnes." T'Challa sighed. “I told you, you don't have to refer to me that way."
"Well, I won't stop until you don't call me Sergeant Barnes anymore," Bucky replied. “It's Bucky, or at least James."
"James, then," T'Challa said, and his eyes gleamed. "How are you?"
"A little better every day." Bucky doubted T'Challa was there to receive updates about his time in Wakanda, since he already received them from other people. As expected, T'Challa smiled and started to change the subject.
“It's good to see you're fitting in here,” he said. “Although that's not why I'm here. In fact, I came to give you a gift."
"Gift?" Bucky asked. “T'Challa, my life here is a gift. Just waking up every day, being safe…"
"But that's the least we could do for you, James," T'Challa said. He had an almost mischievous expression on his face, which was unusual for his usual seriousness. Bucky noticed for the first time that T'Challa had never taken his hands from behind his back. “What I brought today is a simple gift. And we can't forget that today is a special date."
Bucky's eyes widened and T'Challa chuckled.
“Happy birthday, James."
Hidden behind him, T'Challa kept a long piece of blue fabric, similar to the one Bucky already wore, tied to the left side of his body. He reached for the fabric automatically, then froze in place, taking a closer look at the details of the garment. Some of the threads that held the fabric's fibers together were bright as gold, the same color that represented the Golden Tribe.
"This isn't made of Vibranium or anything, is it?" Bucky asked. T'Challa shook his head.
"No. But it was made with great affection, and especially for you." T'Challa reached out a hand and touched Bucky's wrist, turning it over to position the folded fabric over his palm.
"Thank you, T'Challa," Bucky said, bringing the garment closer to his body but keeping it away from his clothes so as not to get it dirty. He wanted to guard it carefully. “Really, I appreciate it. Thank you for this, for remembering my birthday, and for everything else."
T'Challa smiled.
“While you're here, James, you're part of Wakanda, so it's my duty to take care of you as well."
And the idea of being looked after by T'Challa was such a comforting and thought-provoking idea that Bucky could only tear his eyes back to his gift, which did nothing to soothe his heart.
That day, Bucky's birthday wish was to be able to spend a lot more time in Wakanda, with T'Challa around to disturb his calm in the best way. If Bucky had the choice, he would spend all eternity tending to the goats and enjoying the peace of his tent by the river. He wouldn't mind having a heart attack or two because of the King.
That was the first birthday Bucky could smile and see his happiness reflected in the face of someone who cared about him.
That was the best birthday.
┈┉┅━━━ +1
March 10, 2018, marked the newfound freedom of James Buchanan Barnes. Freed from the brainwashing that had turned him into a monster for so many decades, Bucky was finally a whole man, able to celebrate his birthday however he chose.
What happened, however, was that the start of his birthday didn't go as he expected. Instead of the peaceful day he planned, he was summoned by Shuri first thing in the morning. She demanded that he come to her lab for something very, very important.
The very important thing turned out to be a breakfast plate of pancakes piled high and decorated with a candle on top. Shuri's lab was organized and bustling as usual, but differently because it was more colorful: decorative banners with Bucky's name, colorful flags and blue balloons were scattered around the corners of the place. When Bucky entered, Shuri turned to him with a huge smile and spread her arms wide to indicate her surroundings.
"Happy birthday!" she exclaimed. Bucky continued to stand at the entrance of the lab with an affectionate expression on his face. "What do you think?"
"A bit too much?" Bucky said, finally stepping inside. Shuri pulled out a chair for him to sit on the bench in front of the plate, and then placed a birthday hat on him.
"You better say sike, or I'll make you remove all the decorations yourself later," said Shuri, returning to the counter where she was fiddling with some holograms. Bucky laughed and adjusted the plastic hat on his head.
“Fine, I take back what I said. You did a great job and you sure didn't overdo it, Shuri." Bucky smiled at her. "Thank you. It means a lot to me."
Shuri smiled for a moment, her expression turning into one of warmth and joy. A second later, her enthusiasm returned and she smirked, gesturing to her plate of pancakes.
"Blow out the candles and make a wish," she said. Bucky complied, closing his eyes for a second before blowing out the small candle and sending his wish skyward along the wisps of smoke that remained after the flame.
Shuri immediately launched into a rant about the complications of finding the right colors for the decorations, the immense goodness in her heart for allowing any food to come near her lab just because it was important to celebrate Bucky's birthday, and the difficulty of planning a good gift for someone who can have everything but wants nothing.
"It's not that I want nothing," Bucky said, coating the pancakes with maple syrup and taking the first mouthful. “I just don't need anything more than what I already have."
"You might not need it, but you could want it," Shuri countered.
"Better not to mess with what's good enough," Bucky said. Shuri snorted.
"White Wolf, you're just like my brother. Just because something doesn't need improvement doesn't mean it can't be improved. And I want to improve your life with the amazing gift I'm going to-"
"Shuri..." Bucky raised his eyebrows. “I already told you I don't want an arm."
"It's not an arm," she promised. “I have more creativity than that. It will be something else that you will love."
"Okay,". Bucky relented, smiling a little. “I'll take it if you promise not to be as spectacularly flashy as the decorations."
Shuri smiled and opened her mouth, presumably to say that everything she did was spectacular, but was interrupted by another voice at the entrance of the lab.
“By now we all know that Shuri isn't capable of anything that isn't way too flashy and extravagant."
Bucky turned around to see T'Challa entering the lab. A small smile graced his face, and Bucky smiled back automatically.
"Hello, James," T'Challa said, resting a hand on Bucky's shoulder for a second. "Happy birthday."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Bucky replied, using the title only to tease T'Challa. The trick worked, if T'Challa's grimace was any sign. Bucky covered his laugh with another mouthful of pancakes.
"Shuri, if you'll excuse us, I'd like to have a private word with the one we're celebrating," T'Challa said. Shuri made a face at him.
"The door is open, you can leave any time," she said. T'Challa sighed in exasperation, so Shuri relented. "Fine. But don't show him my gift yet. I want to record it the first time he sees it."
"Oh, yes," T'Challa shuddered. “I have memories about that."
Shuri smiled and left the lab, taking a tablet with her.
Once she was gone, T'Challa took place in front of the holograms and began to explore them. It was the same thing Shuri was doing a few minutes ago, but seeing T'Challa illuminated by the blue light and gently moving his fingers affected Bucky in a very different way.
"I wanted to extend an invitation," T'Challa said. “A tour of Wakanda tonight."
Like a date? Bucky thought, but kept quiet.
"It would be in celebration of your birthday," T'Challa explained. “Like a date."
Bucky almost spit out the mouthful of water he was drinking. He widened his eyes at T'Challa. Was the King reading his mind?
"I figured you wouldn't like a wild party like Shuri wanted to do, so..." T'Challa shrugged. “I still think it's important that you celebrate your birthday in some way, and I'd like to do that with you."
Bucky coughed a few more times and tried to compose himself before he got up and walked over to T'Challa. He stared at the holograms, not understanding anything he saw.
"Touring Wakanda with you, I'll take it," Bucky said. "But doing something to celebrate my birthday..."
"If you don't want to celebrate another year of life, at least celebrate your newfound freedom," argued T'Challa. “You're finally free, James. Your mind has become your own again, and that's something to celebrate."
“I'm just afraid I'll celebrate too much and end up regretting it,” Bucky said. “It may be a crazy superstition, but I'm afraid the universe is watching me and waiting for me to get too happy to destroy me again."
A sad expression crossed T'Challa's face. He stopped fiddling with the holograms and walked over to Bucky, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing in a friendly way that made Bucky's heart race.
“I understand, James. With everything that's happened to you, it's not strange that you feel insecure about the world and its intentions. At the same time, it's not fair that you deprive yourself of being happy for fear of what might happen."
T'Challa reached up with his other hand and touched Bucky's face, stroking his cheek with his thumb. Bucky closed his eyes without realizing it, feeling blessed by the mere proximity of the man who seemed to outshine the sun above them.
"I want to promise that I'll be here for you," T'Challa said. “It might not be much, and it might not prevent things from going wrong, but I'll be here to get through them with you."
Bucky opened his eyes and met T'Challa's honest, kind gaze. He felt that the feelings he had harbored for the King of Wakanda since his previous birthday were reaching a tipping point, where he would break in half or end up admitting everything, unable to contain himself.
“Don't say it's not much, T'Challa. To me, it's everything." Bucky smiled, lifting his hand to cover the fingers that caressed his face. “And I want to celebrate my birthday with you. I want to be by your side as long as you allow me. I want…"
Bucky hesitated, so T'Challa smiled.
"You are free, James," he repeated. "You can wish for and do whatever you want."
A fragment of the person Bucky used to be became present in that moment. He smiled, flirting a little, and tightened his grip on T'Challa's hand.
"Can I?" he asked. "Even if I want to kiss you?"
To T'Challa's credit, he was only stunned for a second before snapping into the same tune."
"I wouldn't deny such a special birthday wish," he said, smiling.
Bucky frowned.
“No, that's not my birthday wish."
"So what is it?"
"That you kiss me because you want to, not because I want you to," Bucky said. The conquering smile disappeared and he faced T'Challa with all the vulnerability and hope he felt pulsing within him.
As reassuring as ever, T'Challa's smile made Bucky's heart both calm and quicken at the same time.
“In that case, I guess what they say is true: birthday wishes have power. If that's your wish, it's been months since it came true."
Bucky felt relief course through his body. So he wasn't reading things wrong. His relationship with T'Challa, which seemed to be moving in that direction for months, was really about to change.
Before approaching, however, T'Challa ran a hand over one of the screens of the lab.
“But it doesn't have to happen here,” he said.
With one touch from T'Challa, the entire space around Bucky glowed and transformed. Suddenly he found himself standing on the sidewalk of a street in 1940's Brooklyn. The buildings, houses, cars, people — everything was just as he remembered. Bucky pulled away from T'Challa and looked around in wonder.
"What's this?"
"Shuri's gift," T'Challa replied. Bucky watched everything move around him, delighted. “Don't tell her I let you see it too soon."
"It's exactly how I remember it," Bucky said, reaching toward a wall automatically, but there was nothing solid.
It was an illusion formed by beams of light, an illusion so well done that it brought tears to Bucky's eyes.
“It's beautiful,” he said at last. T'Challa smiled.
"Shuri did this to remind you of a place that was once home, but that you could no longer find in real life. Brooklyn has changed, just like you."
"I couldn't find the person I was either if I looked for myself," Bucky said, but there was no sadness or resentment in his voice, just longing.
“And there's nothing wrong with that." T'Challa gestured to the space around them. "Places and things, like people, change over time. We can try to revisit them sometimes, as we are doing now, but we can't live forever in the places that are gone. Even the places we live in today are changing and will be different in the future."
T'Challa turned to Bucky and took his hand again, pulling him closer.
“There's nothing wrong with missing the person you were, James. But I hope you know that the person you've become is just as important as who you were in the past. You are so much more than the sum of what you were, what you are, or what has been made of you. Today, you are a complete person, and I wouldn't trade that person for anything, or anyone in this world. Because I want to be able to take care of you, sthandwa sam, and it's not just because you're part of Wakanda. It's because you own a part of me."
That was the biggest blow to Bucky's heart. He took a deep breath, and for the first time in years, he felt life instead of pain. T'Challa wasn't the only reason for that — many things were: Shuri and her birthday breakfast, Ayo and all the help she'd given him, Wakanda and its territory that seemed to embrace Bucky so tightly, Steve and his blind trust that Bucky was worth it. So many things, so many people, and Bucky was finally finding himself, happy and free inside a place he had never been before, now surrounded by streets and a sky he had always wanted to return to. In that moment, Bucky's only wish was that the universe had its eyes closed so as not to see his smile.
"So much I've missed," he said, looking around, then back at T'Challa. “But the vision I want to see the most is right in front of me."
Smiling, T'Challa pulled Bucky into a hug, a single embrace that was enough to thaw all of Bucky's bones, melt away the confusion, the doubts, the anger and the longing. A single hug and Bucky felt he was home, finally happy to have lived another year of life to have this.
On that birthday, Bucky didn't blow out all the candles he was entitled to due to his age, but just one was enough to fulfill all the requests he had accumulated in so many years of lost birthdays.
Like a flame ignited again to promise another year of life, Bucky was lit by the happiness he felt, and then, he glowed.