Chapter Text
I'm with you pal, to the end of the line...
His moms dead, and she won't ever be coming back.
Steve plans on wallowing in his grief for the rest of the night.
If you could even call it night yet.
Bucky decided to stay, despite Steve's half hearted protests that end in soft grateful smiles and gentle, lingering touches. A cacophony against the smooth September sky, the cool air that greets them now a reminder of what is to come.
Winter.
The weather is still just-only tolerable for the smaller mans poor lungs, he glances at Bucky who apparently had just finished washing up in the bathroom. Comes out with a small hand towel, running fingers through hair that is still slicked and surprisingly a lot more messier than before.
Steve, without provocation, had pushed the cushions together just as Bucky had suggested. Silently sketching in a nicely bound book that Bucky had gifted him on his birthday. It's already half full and perhaps if he's lucky he'll get one for Christmas. But he doesn't have any of his hopes up.
"Hey, no more of that." Bucky scoffs, tossing his rag into a wash bucket by the sink. "I can tell you're doin' it, losing all faith in things, getting all down on yourself."
Steve looks at him as if he's both the stupidest, and the most precious thing in the world. "Come of me Buck, I'm just drawing, don't have to read into things..."
"What is there to read into? You're totally a sour puss... I don't blame you though." His mouth forms a tight line, then he's sighing, sitting next to Steve cross-legged.
"Getting a bit close for comfort there, you wanna say that again, without the act?" Somehow, this kind of talk is just what he needs.
The room goes quiet again, Steve thinks it's just cause Bucky finally decided to shut his pie hole. When it seems from out of nowhere, he speaks.
"Your mom was one of the strongest people I know, and a blind man could see it..."
"I know Bucky." Steve murmurs, he doesn't look up despite the surprise that jolted through him at the confession.
"Yeah, but she pales in comparison to the strongest person I know."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Steve snaps, tossing his pencil into his book and giving the most impassioned, ticked-off glare. It'd never put fear into the hearts of anyone, anyone except for James Buchanan Barnes perhaps.
"You, Stevie, you...I'm talkin' about your no-good punk ass so keep on sketchin'." He was looking at Steve for much too long, so he looks away with some sort of hurt Steve can't place.
"Yeah, well, you're the stupid one. So I guess it fits."
"You calling me dumb Rogers?" He looks mildly impressed, moving into a position where he's laying and holding himself up with his elbows.
"Yeah, sure as hell am, Buck." Steve replies cheekily shoving his sketch book off to the side and finally getting around to loosening his tie and tossing it on top of his book. Bucky squints a little, wondering what his game is. But Steve never breaks eye contact.
It's a flash of movement, but Steve starts it. Pushing Bucky down to the cushions and pinning him down, but of course Bucky is letting him and it has nothing to do with strength right now. Purely play, and something they'd embark upon on occasion.
But Bucky Barnes can't stop paying attention to the younger man's chest. The tiny form tucked in two-sizes too-big clothing, a body that hardly portrays the man. And he is a man, Buck reminds himself. Because while Steve has the body of a 16 year old, (and that's putting it nicely.) His voice is deeper than Bucky's ever could be, perseverance and will stronger than any other mans' ought to be. But its Steve Rogers, with a smart mouth and a heart of gold.
He's so damn done for.
"Whats the matter Buck? Can't hold your own? Need me to baby sit ya?" They both know that's not true at all, but the fire in those blue eyes has him on some kind of ride. Like the Cyclone on Coney going over and over again.
"No way, pal, I'm just making sure you didn't hurt yourself just now." Replying smoothly, but this only seems to incense the situation further.
Steve straddles harder, his arms may or may not be shaking, but Bucky doesn't pay that no mind.
"Shuddap! You just love coddling me, you jerk!"
"Love it? more like it's my day job..."
With a low growl Steve throttles him, sort of, and Bucky decides to humor him and flip them over so Bucks ontop, and skinny legs are wrapped around him. His best friend, looks surprised a moment and then finally. "Oh fuck no! get the hell off of me!"
"Manners Stevie! You kiss your mama with that mouth?"
Steve looks a little forlorn for a moment, Barnes inwardly curses himself for the poorly chosen words.
But he's met with a swift punch to the chest. It doesn't hurt at all, felt like a dame slapping him at a party.
A really tiny dame.
Actually Bucky ain't ever danced with a dame as small as Steve.
He was caught off guard though...
"I got manners, but I don't need them around you and you know it!"
"Jesus and where you figure that?"
"Dunno, don't care, get the hell off of me buck!" He scrambles once more, punching a few more times until Buck decides he's had enough.
"If... you ask nicely."
"Well, fine... Please." Steve looks up and into Bucky's eyes, it's softer, pleading, even though the blondes lips are just pressed into a flat line of apathy.
Steve stopped struggling, so now they're just looking at one another with the weirdest gaze, Bucky only stopping when he realizes he's hard and wrinkling Steve's shirt.
"Dammit Steve, you gotta job interview on Monday and our hot iron broke..." He snaps up off of the younger man, and Steve looks flushed, totally shaken out of their miniature moment. If you could call it that.
"Yeah, I know, here, help me get these hung up. Don't wanna ruin them anymore than I have to." Helping is the easy part, its realizing both of their clothes need washing that makes it hard. And the fact they can't do that till tomorrow that makes it harder. Which ends up with Steve in boxers, and Bucky in his trousers.
Steve looks cold, and Bucky is too. So he takes off his own pants and hangs them up. Steve instantly looking flustered, "What the hell are you doing..."
"Taking off my clothes so we can go to sleep, what does it look like I'm doing?" Steady heat rises over his chest, speckled in patches of curly dark hair. Of course his young friends eyes wander, but he pretends he can't see that. Bucky's looking at him twice as much if not more, but maybe, maybe Steve will ignore just how much he's looking.
The lights go out, and he can feel Steve shivering against him for a few minutes until he tucks the blonde in tighter and pulls him up closer.
"Buck!" the tone shocked, scandalized.
"You not like this?"
"Thats not... wait, do you?"
"Course, otherwise I'd toss you out the window. Shut up and go to sleep."
"Mmn'alright..."
They're 'sleeping' when Bucky trails his hands down in smooth motions over the lower part of Steve's back. 'Asleep' when Steve presses himself closer to Bucky, groin to groin, his head on Bucks' shoulder. And neither one of them notice one another's hot arousal flush and firm together only guarded by thin fabric.
You never gotta do this alone...