[Bucky feels broader and more solid in his arms than he expected. There's muscle memory, maybe, from when they were boys and both smaller, with less muscle layered onto them. Steve's change was more drastic, maybe, and sudden, but Bucky is certainly bigger. Funny how he should notice the shape of that change against him as 'bigger than expected' rather than equate it with the size comparison from when they were young and feel like he seems smaller.
At least they're finally about the same height. That's way more convenient for kissing.
Steve grins, putting the burnt pancake on a plate and cutting it in half with the spatula.] Go for it.
And no, I'm not refrigerating the batter. [No matter how much he suddenly would rather be making out.] I'll make the pancakes up and if we're more interested in kissing then, we can refrigerate them and microwave them later.
[Because then he will at least have fulfilled his offer to make pancakes. If Bucky chooses then not to eat them right away, that's not Steve's fault.]
[Hugging Steve like this is kind of strange too. It almost reminds him of their youth, except now the difference in their height is from Bucky sitting on the counter, not from their genetics. And Steve's certainly broader and more solid; he doesn't fit in Bucky's arms the way he used to for the few hugs they had shared. But he likes it. He likes it a whole lot, likes knowing that Steve isn't going to break, that he's not going to hurt Steve with an accidental grab.]
You know that the way to my heart is through burnt breakfast foods, right? [Hey, it wouldn't be Bucky is there isn't at least a little teasing!
He leans away from Steve in order to reach for the drawer with the cutlery; the action causes his shirt to ride up just a little at the side. But he's sitting up again in a moment anyway, a pair of forks clutched victoriously in his hand. Winning!
And the pancake? Most definitely burnt, but there are worse things in life. He snags another bite and offers it to Steve off the fork.]
Your dedication to breakfast is inspiring. Did they have you make a nutrition video? [Those PSAs had been an absolute delight to find out about, and had left Bucky in tears from the laughter the first time he watched them. Still, he only ever brings them up when they're in private like this, because he knows it's likely to embarrass his friend.
Boyfriend? They'd have to figure that out.] Steve, I'm gonna be honest with you, I'm probably going to be more interested in kissing you than in just about anything else. Just saying.
Is that so? [Steve gets the syrup out of the fridge and sets it by the plate.] Burnt ones, specifically?
[His mouth goes dry when Bucky leans over and inadvertently exposes his side. It's not much, but it's enough for Steve to see scars and muscle, more than enough to make him imagine running his fingers down that exposed skin.
Oof. Yeah, he's definitely not going to be eating much before they fall into making out. There's a little ache in his chest, like his body is rebelling against being pulled away from Bucky's so soon.
When offered the bite of pancake, Steve can feel the blush creep down his neck, but he leans in and takes it, anyway, halfway between laughter and lust. But of course Bucky has to harass him, too, and--that's okay right now. He rolls his eyes, mildly pained, but manages to chew and swallow the bite of food before answering:] Three of 'em, but I don't know if they ever edited the clips into anything. There's a lot of terrible footage of me out there somewhere.
[Which is embarrassing, but no more so than the theatrics of his USO days. As long as Bucky doesn't tease him too much in front of the other Avengers, it's all right.
He raises an eyebrow then, studying Bucky's expression, and damn but it's gratifying to see an echo of what he's feeling there. He thought they were going to play it safe, take it slow, but it feels like now that they've crossed the barrier this far, they can't stop.]
...well, we ate one of them. [His voice crackles a little.] That's a start, right? I guess we could just...finish up later?
Only if you're the one who's burned them. [Clarification is important!
And it's probably a good thing that Bucky is ignorant of the effect that that leaning has on Steve; he'd been much too focused on grabbing cutlery. Otherwise he might have said screw it to pancakes and batter both, and just hauled Steve right in for a makeout session. But no, there's a burnt pancake to share and Bucky's going to keep feeding Steve little syrup-drenched bites in between taking his own.
And as far as the videos? Bucky's honestly not going to say too much else about them. He knows how it makes Steve feel and he'll poke a little fun when they're alone, but more than that is stepping a little too close to being cruel and he doesn't want to hurt his friend like that.] I can't imagine anything you do being terrible, I hope you realize that.
[It probably sounds a little sappy, but it's true. Bucky can't remember a time that Steve hasn't thrown his all into whatever task was in front of him, and there's a kind of beauty in that dedication, that determination. Even when it was back alleys and guys who were bigger than he was, Steve never actually backed away from something he thought was right. Bucky thinks that it's that more than anything else that makes people want to follow him: his charisma, his determination, his sense of what's right.
It's only one of the things that Bucky finds attractive about him.
Another one, a very big one right now, is physicality. Bucky's always been very physical himself and right now he's very, very aware of Steve's presence next to him: how his gaze lingers, how he's drifted a little closer, how his voice betrays him and his skin is still a little flushed. And he likes it. He likes it a lot.]
Yeah. [He eyes what's left of the batter, eyes the stove; it's clear that Bucky's calculating.] Finish making them, but I'm gonna package them right away. Not much interested in eating right now.
[Microwaved pancakes aren't as good as fresh but fresh pancakes aren't as good as the prospect of making out with Steve.]
Aww. [Steve breaks into laughter.] Only my burned pancakes. I'm not sure if that's sweet or insulting.
[Why can't it be both? They're good at pushing one another's buttons, both sweet and sour.
There's something unexpectedly sensual about Bucky feeding him little bites of pancake. Steve is not sure what it is in his psyche that's getting off on that little gesture. He doesn't like being taken care of, for the most part; he had way too much of that as a kid. But Bucky makes it different, maybe because of their history or maybe just because he's goddamn Bucky Barnes. Steve would lick stray drops syrup off his fingers if he wasn't afraid that would bring their cooking venture to an abrupt conclusion.]
And now you're buttering me up. [He accuses, prepared to act as if he doesn't believe a word of Bucky's flattery. His eyes betray him, though. He's grateful for that kindness. Personally, Steve feels he does quite a few things that are terrible, mostly in the sense of embarrassing and laughable, but every now and again in the sense of ethically debatable. His moral core is rock-solid, but his actions have consequences that hurt to watch. It makes a guy wonder, is all.
His relentless determination, though, is undeniable. He knows that's something Bucky has always recognized in him, and maybe it made him pull his hair out in frustration years ago, but he seems to like it now.
Bucky himself, meanwhile, is made of charisma, head to toe. He was smooth as silk when they were boys, and now the years have roughed him up badly inside, but somehow he's lost none of his charm. And in the same way, even if he's lost his left arm, the physical grace remains. Maybe he doesn't see it in himself, but Steve sees the unquenchable light at the heart of James Buchanan Barnes, and loves it.
He nods, going back to cooking, and his concentration is utterly shot now, anticipation making his breath short and his face pink. At least he manages not to burn any more of them, even if he has to carefully not look at Bucky for most of the rest of the time he's flipping the pancakes.]
Well, when you decide which one it is you let me know and we'll go from there. [Sour and sweet and all the shades in between; it's the summation of their friendship and something special to them. Steve breaks all of Bucky's rules about keeping people at arm's length. Everything that Bucky tries to do to keep himself apart from people, to keep them safe from him — and Steve breaks right through it like he belongs right at Bucky's side.
He always has; that space has always been for him. Bucky just never thought that he could deserve to have so much of Steve's attention, not anymore. To know that he does is something he both treasures and guards fiercely.
And the looks that Steve's giving him? They make his stomach flip flop a little bit because while Bucky most certainly knows how to flirt — and he's damn good at it — flirting with Steve and knowing that the attraction is mutual? That's something entirely new.
It's a good thing he doesn't know about that half-formed impulse to lick syrup from his fingers or else things would escalate very very quickly.]
Maybe just a little. [He laughs though, and not unkindly. Even in lightheartedness like this there lurks a potential for heavy topics and heavy concerns and Bucky doesn't want to steer toward those waters right now. It's not complete avoidance; they've talked about the darker cast their lives now have, talked about how they've ended up where they are and even talked a little bit about hardships endured. But this isn't the time for those thoughts to intrude. No, this is a time for everything that's warm and welcoming, time for Bucky to retrieve clean plates and plastic wrap from the cabinets so that pancakes can slide right on with the wrap stretched carefully over top.
It gives him a good opportunity to watch Steve, as well: to watch his blush, to watch his hands as they maneuver the spatula, to watch the play of the muscles across his shoulders as hands and arms move. To just sit and watch, because he hadn't been kidding earlier: Bucky likes looking at Steve. A lot.
And once the pancakes are done? Once everything that needs to be packaged is packaged, once the stove is turned off so that there won't be any more adventures in burning? Bucky reaches out to touch Steve's shoulder, to let his fingers drag along it to find the side of his throat, his cheek. He keeps it gentle, not forceful; wants to draw Steve in with an invitation, not a command.]
It's you, is what it is. [Steve tells him warmly, just barely holding back laughter in his voice.] You're the only guy I know who can be sweet while he's being a jerk.
[The stalking delivery of his limerick earlier is a perfect illustration. Steve couldn't ask for better. In spite of everything they've been through and everything that's hanging over their heads, he feels content right now. Happy.
That's Bucky's fault.
Once the pancakes are packaged and ingredients are put away, Steve is drawn into his friend's touch like there's a magnet pulling him in. Wouldn't matter if it was more aggressive; Steve's not scared of him and he'd come in close willingly. Still, the softness is nice.
When they were younger, that gentleness would have been offputting. Steve never wanted to be coddled then, wanted to be seen as strong and masculine and a force to be reckoned with. Now, he wishes he hadn't taken tenderness and care for granted for so many years. Now, gentleness makes him melt inside.
His arms go around Bucky's waist tentatively.] You want to stay here or go sit on the couch?
It's a skill. [What can he say? Aside from the fact that maybe Steve brings it out in him.
Steve brings out a lot of things in him. One of them is possibility. With Steve sliding close like this, that one word holds so much weight. And it's not an uncomfortable burden; it's one of the few things that isn't a burden at all.
Like cleaning the kitchen, like putting away ingredients and getting things into the sink to soak in some soapy water. Like putting the ingredients away and folding the apron over a stool by the counter. Like sharing a look with Steve, one that leads to getting close again, to a gentle touch and a smile and when Steve moves to return the embrace? It's perfect.
Bucky sways closer, into the embrace of those arms, his free hand curling against Steve's shoulder. There's a smile on his face, warm and open.] Both. Is both an answer?
[No Bucky, you really need to pick one.] I think the idea of the couch wins though. As much as I'm always going to like this kitchen for witnessing our first kiss, I'd really just like to be closer to you.
[It's a lot less teasing than most of Bucky's recent comments, and that's because of how important this is to him. How much he wants to do things right, how much he wants to match the sweetness Steve said he wanted. Not that there isn't room for teasing, for wickedness, even for a little bit of rough play; they're all things that Bucky knows he likes. But he also thinks he likes this, likes how it fits a lazy morning with half a burnt pancake shared and he's betting that Steve's kiss is going to taste sweet now, like syrup and chocolate.
[Bucky is many things to Steve; he's a reminder of who they were before the war and the serum and goddamned Hydra put them through the wringer. He's a reminder of who Steve once was, and when he's questioning his own identity, that's grounding. He's also a refuge, someone who put himself on the line for Steve more times than he can count, who actually used to irritate Steve by being so damned protective.
Now his raw nerves seem to stop aching so much in Bucky's presence. Sure, he's a mess himself. There's still guilt and there will always be a fight they can't get away from, but when Steve is with Bucky, he is home. His head knows it, and so does his body.]
Witnessing our first kiss? Now you really are being sentimental. [And he likes it. He's even a little desperate for it, and Bucky's reward for it is a tighter embrace, Steve burying his forehead against his shoulder for a moment.
But then, because he's pretty sure even with Bucky's increased bulk he still can, Steve pulls him off the counter and into his arms and makes for the next room, where the couch can be found.] All right, let's do this! That sofa won't know what hit it.
[They've always been a matched set: Bucky and Steve, Steve and Bucky. In all of their forms, all their shades, they've always been a duo. And sure, it hasn't always been an easy thing and the dynamic they'd once had is long since gone. But this is good too. It's more than good in fact; its grounding in the way nothing else is.
Being with Steve is being home, no matter where they end up — to the end of the line and back again.]
You bring it out in me. [It's true; Bucky isn't really the sentimental sort, and most of the things he'd be sentimental about anyway are all tied up in Steve. And a moment like this, with Steve holding him closer, with Steve leaning closer? It's perfect for sentiment, for turning his head to nuzzle softly against Steve's temple.
And for clutching to Steve's shoulders when he's lifted off the counter! It's definitely not something he was expecting — Steve had certainly never been able to do it in their youth — and the action makes him laugh and wrap his legs securely around Steve's waist. He's going to be near breathless by the time they make it to the couch, eyes shining with the happiness he feels at just being together, just having this chance.]
Just don't drop me! [It's clear that it's a tease more than anything else; Bucky trusts Steve with his life and he most certainly trusts in Steve's strength now. He knows he won't be dropped. Playfully tossed on the couch and pounced, now — that would be a different story.]
[Steve is a little surprised at himself. He had no doubt in his mind he could lift Bucky--he can lift a lot of things, can demonstrably hold down a helicopter trying to take off, so one guy, even one with a metal arm and a lot of muscle, isn't that hard to carry--but carrying him to the couch for a makeout session is bolder than Steve's usual approach to intimate contact.
Maybe it's a little easier with Bucky. It means more, and the stakes are higher, but they've been close for a long, long time.
Steve is breathless by the time they reach the sofa, as well, because the feeling of Bucky's thighs wrapped around his waist is really intense. There's a lot of muscle, he can feel it, and there are some connotations his brain isn't prepared to deal with calmly. He bites down on his lower lip, grinning and blushing, and when they get to the couch, he pauses for only a moment, metaphorical wheels turning in his head as he tries to decide whether he wants to pounce on top of Bucky or let himself be pounced.
In the end, he opts for the former, more or less flinging them into the cushions and rolling on top of the other man. There's a little less space on the couch than is ideal for two tallish guys, so Steve's legs trail off the cushions, but it's pretty cozy anyway.
He props himself up on his elbows and smiles fondly down at Bucky. He's rose-pink, all the way down his neck.]
[There are implications to the way they're positioned. Those implications had been there in the kitchen when Steve leaned close, and they're most definitely present when he wrapped his legs around Steve's body. And Bucky can't deny that there's a very physical aspect to it: they're both physical people, both very much present and comfortable in their skin. And Bucky's flirting has always been very physical: getting close, holding hands, putting arms around shoulders. So wrapping his legs around Steve's waist?
Steve's not the only one who's face is getting a little bit pink.
But what really does it for Bucky is as they pass from kitchen to living room and he has the stray thought — in Sam's voice no less — about walls and sex ninjas and it's so ridiculous because they are nowhere near anything like that (yet...?) for all that they'd teased a little while Steve was cooking. And that actually helps with the tension, helps him to let go some of the embarrassment that is those implications and just enjoy the simplicity of being in Steve's arms, of trusting in Steve to move them.
Because he trusts Steve with everything — apparently even his heart. And that thought? That brings the laughter right back and he holds to Steve a little tighter, shoulders shaking with his mirth.
Bucky's in stitches by the time his back hits the couch cushions with Steve pressed atop him. It's a pure kind of laughter, free and clear and happy and delighting more than anything in just being a little bit silly with his best friend. With Steve. Who he gets to hold now too, gets to hug and kiss and feed burnt pancakes to and—
—and it's okay that Steve's blushing because Bucky is grinning like a fool. It's okay that they don't quite fit on the couch, that feet hang off and there's not really a good way to manage things like elbows and knees. It's perfect actually because it's not perfect, and that's just fine for two kids from Brooklyn.]
This is perfect. [He raises one hand to brush the hair back from Steve's face, trying to combat the bit of gravity that's working against him.] Nowhere else I'd rather be.
[Implications. Nice, tempting implications, although ultimately should this get hotter and heavier than cuddles and making out, Steve isn't entirely sure who tops who. God knows Bucky is more likely to know what he's doing, but...probably it doesn't matter. They'll cross bridges like that as they come to them. Sharing this is what's important.
Still, his blush isn't going anywhere any time soon.
How long has it been since he heard Bucky laughing? Really laughing, not just a snort of revelation or a bitter chuckle? Steve has good hearing, thanks to the serum, where he was deaf in one ear before--it's not supernormal, just on the upper end of the spectrum of decent human auditory skills--but he wishes it was better, so he could catch every little nuance of that laughing fit. Bucky sounds so...unburdened. Relieved, in the deeper sense of the word. He wants him to feel that way for the rest of his life.
That's probably not in the cards, but they're both going to damn well enjoy this while it lasts, today and any day they get after this.]
You sure? [He teases, but his eyes drift closed at the touch.] I can still haul your ass back to the kitchen if I have to.
[Or just kiss him again. Steve could absolutely do that. So he does.]
[The follow through of those implications that they’re ignoring doesn’t need to come today. As much as Bucky would love to get truly wicked with Steve, he also wants to do things right. Flowers and dancing and everything that Steve had mentioned wanting; if that’s truly what he wants then Bucky is n happy to accommodate. Anything to see that smile, the one that’s a little bit softer than the one everyone else sees. Cap has a great smile, but Bucky has always preferred Steve’s; there are these little crinkles he gets right at the corners of his eyes, not quite crows’ feet but it just softens his entire countenance.
Bucky could fall for this man, he thinks. He really could. And if that falling comes with literally falling onto a couch together, laughing and smiling and Steve’s blush? He has no complaints.]
Steve. [Bucky’s hand trails from his hair down to cup the side of his face, thumb roving over his cheek.] If we relocate again, it’s not gonna be to the kitchen.
[Eliminating kitchen and living room doesn’t leave a lot of the apartment left for consideration, so it’s probably clear that Bucky means one of their bedrooms. But that’s not something they need to consider now. It’s not even something they need to consider soon. Right now all he wants to do is return Steve’s kiss, sounding softly against his mouth. And he shifts a little, just enough to dovetail one of his legs between Steve’s in an attempt to bring him closer.]
[Ultimately the structure of Steve's face didn't change that much after the serum. The jaw broadened a little, and maybe the cheekbones went up a little. He's still capable of that soft smile, it's just that it gets overshadowed with the frequent need to keep a stiff upper lip and teeth gritted against internal and external onslaughts.
None of that's needed right now, luckily, and his countenance relaxes under Bucky's touch, eyes going heavy-lidded. Funny how a small gesture like that means so much, coming from the right guy.
He chuckles at Bucky's comment and gives himself over to the kiss completely, sinking into his arms. He gasps a little when their legs tangle together nonetheless; that's more overtly sensual, but it seems welcome.]
I'm not opposed to that either, honestly. [He murmurs when they pause for air, hooking his ankle around Bucky's.] Just don't want to push too hard for either of us, you know? It's been...a real long time.
[Not never, but definitely not since the war and the ice. Dating, yeah. Kissing, sure. Nothing quite this intimate.]
[Steve’s face has always been unique in Bucky’s memory: the smile, the light in his eyes, the slight twist of his mouth when there’s mischief to be planned. So many of the positives that he can remember are tied up in Steve’s companionship, in Steve’s place in his life. If Bucky can hold onto that by holding onto this, by curving his hand along Steve’s cheek and welcoming him close, welcoming his weight atop Bucky’s own body, then he’ll take it all and greedily.
The fact that Steve doesn’t seem to mind pressing even closer? That’s so good, warm in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He welcomes the tangling of their legs even further, would hook his own higher on Steve’s hip if their positioning on the couch was suited to it. But it’s not and there’s no sense in moving just for that, not when he can trade kisses back and forth just like this until they need to break away to catch their breath.
Those words surprise him though. He knows Steve’s not completely innocent, but he still hadn’t expected it. He’s still getting used to the idea that Steve could, that Steve does want him.]
I don’t know if I’m ready for it. [It’s not just sex; it’s Steve. That makes all the difference.] I want to be, you have no idea how much I want you, but... We need to figure it out.
[For right now though? Kissing. Kissing is fine; kissing is more than fine. Kissing is definitely a thing that Bucky wants more of, drawing Steve in again, parting his lips to welcome the other man to explore. Faintly he wonders when Steve got so damn good at this but decides a moment later that it doesn’t matter, that it’s Steve and right now the only one he seems to want to kiss is Bucky, and Bucky wants to show him exactly how he likes to be kissed.]
[Steve always had a bit of a thing about Bucky's hands--hands in general, to be honest, but particularly with Bucky because his hands were so often taken up in the work of punching out the bullies that Steve got himself tangled up with, or pressing a cool cloth over one of Steve's bumps as he told him off for getting himself in over his head. There was a point, when Bucky first started dating, that Steve actually courted more trouble than he normally would just to make sure he still had a reasonable chunk of Bucky's attention. And touch.
It's strange and a little sad to feel the smooth metal plates stroking his cheekbone, but it's still Bucky. And on the other side, there's that familiar callused thumb and warm palm.]
We have all the time in the world, Buck. You don't have to be ready, there's no rush. [Steve isn't sure how ready he is. Upstairs brain isn't sure, that is. Downstairs brain doesn't require nearly so much nuanced thought to make a decision.] It's just good to be like this...
[He trails off and sinks into another kiss gladly. It feels like they're moving slow, underwater, but it's warm, comforting water, not like plunging into chilly rivers together. And they can breathe, against one another's skin.]
"upstairs brain" and "downstairs brain" is the greatest thing i have read all day
[He's unaware of the trail of Steve's thoughts, and that might be for the best. Too distracting to think about his arm, his hand; it's much easier to just touch Steve as if it's the most normal, the most natural thing in the world.
Really, his body is screaming at him to touch a lot more, to explore more in the way their legs tangle so easily, more of what Steve pressed against him could mean.
Time. They have time.]
Just don't stop kissing me.
[Because he might, just a little bit, be somewhat addicted to the way Steve tastes, to the way he kisses, to the warm, solid weight pressing him down into the couch cushions. He lets his hands wander, finally, one sliding up to sink into Steve's hair and the other tracing down the side of his jaw, his throat, to linger at his collarbone and finally slip to his chest. He could feel the warmth of the other man through his shirt and it was something so very alluring.]
[It's so quiet at this hour of the morning. He can hear a few birds outside, and the occasional whoosh of wind in the trees, the hum of the electronics in the kitchen, and not much else external. That gives him the blessed freedom to focus on the sound of Bucky's breath and the soft, barely-there noises they're both making--not quite moans, but little sighs between kisses.
Except then Steve does give a muffled moan, tilting his head to allow the touch down the side of his neck. He's got goosebumps from it. And for all that they're both protesting they're not ready, they don't seem to be putting the brakes on yet, either.
He nips at Bucky's lower lip, runs his tongue along the curve gently, and then nuzzles into the crook of his neck like he just wants to hold and be held for a moment.]
I just wanna be close to you. [He murmurs, breathless.] Doesn't matter if we're making out or what, I just need this. Okay? You can touch me wherever you want.
[He's having a hard time thinking of a better way to spend his day, now that the option of just snuggling and kissing Bucky for the next few hours appears to have arisen.]
[It's the perfect kind of morning, quiet and serene — the kind that usually sees them out for a run, putting some miles down before the sun's truly up and the city truly awake. Of course Steve had to get all smart with magnetic poetry and Bucky had to prove he could stalk him. And then pancakes and kisses and here they are, in each other's arms and sharing soft little affections and quiet sighs. It's a wonder, truly, the idea that they could have come so far already in such a short time.
Then again they've been dancing around this forever, haven't they? Gay chicken or something like it; maybe they're just so used to leaning against those barriers that it's natural to do so even laying together on the couch with their legs tangled. But that little nip at his lip delights him, earns Steve a bright shock of laughter and Bucky tilts his head so that Steve has more room to burrow against his neck.
He likes that. He really likes that.]
I'll stay as close as you want. [It's an easy promise to make, as easy as breathing, as easy as this thing between them. His hand shifts around to Steve's back, carefully traces his shape from shoulder blade to waist.] That is a hell of an offer to drop in my lap you know. Gonna be honest with you Steve, I could touch you all over.
[Because with Steve pressed against and tangled with him like this, with the temptation of him being so close, with permission freely given? With the fact that they haven't really put the brakes on since they shared that first kiss? It'd be so easy to drive things further. And that might not be off the table, for all that they've said it is. But it also doesn't need to happen right now, not when he's more than content to spend the bulk of the morning in the pursuit of molding the couch cushions to their shape.]
[Steve is inordinately fond of a morning run. Anyone who'll take him up on it, he's happy to go with, but Bucky is ideal because they can keep pace and even exchange jokes on the journey. Turns out magnetic-poetry-induced tag works just as well. Maybe better, given how they're now nestled into one another's arms rather than snarking cheerfully across the table as they sip coffee (not that there's anything wrong with that, either).
Steve is going to take this as a challenge, then. He'll come up with some other game to wake Bucky up with, tomorrow or the next day. Nerf guns or water balloons, out of season Easter Egg hunts, whatever it takes to get a laugh or a kiss or both. This is his new project.
Meanwhile, he's taking Bucky at his word, sliding to the side a little so he's not squashing his chest, but without allowing much more space between them. They're a pile of long, overly-muscled limbs and they're pushing some of the cushions aside by this point. It's great.]
Yeah? Anything in particular you want a closer look at? [Steve laughs; he can't help pushing his luck this way, but he's also very comfortable in the chaos they've made of the sofa.]
Might be safer to keep it above the waist, if we're taking it slow. I guess I could let you up...
[Bucky is blissfully unaware of Steve's plans for their mornings, but that's okay. He enjoyed the surprise that was waking up to magnets on his arm, and for several reasons. The first is that it really was amusing! And the second, more important reason, is that he'd been sleeping soundly enough for Steve to sneak up on him. That's huge because it means that Bucky's finally comfortable enough, in his own skin and in Steve's presence, to sleep soundly.
For someone who still has nightmares on the regular, it's no small matter.
But right now is for shifting around on the poor, abused couch, cushions and pillows knocked askew by two men who are really probably a bit too big to be doing this. That kind of makes it perfect though, because it's a little bit silly and a lot bit fun.]
Uh, all of you? [Well, duh is what his tone of voice says, but Bucky's smile is gentle.] Steve, I don't know if you know this, but you're gorgeous.
[Keeping it above the waist is definitely a smart idea though; as it is Bucky's already very tempted just by how they're currently laying close. But he does slide a hand back to Steve's waist, gives a gentle squeeze.]
Or we could just wiggle around here together. I don't think I want to get up.
[Steve has been aware of the nightmares. He himself has become quite the insomniac since the serum. Even on the USO tour, before he had quite so much nightmare fuel filed away in his brain (although watching Dr. Erskine die more or less in his arms was probably plenty), he found himself up at all hours. Walking halls at 3 AM. Jogging up and down stairs trying to get himself tired enough to rest. More than five hours a night just doesn't happen often. These days, he's pleased if he manages to sleep for three a night. He's pretty sure what he's been through is a drop in the bucket to what Bucky has suffered, but even at that rate he's seen plenty of horror.
But now it's an advantage to need and want less sleep. It means he can keep an eye on Bucky (from a distance; no one wants to wake up from a bad dream and find their friend staring at them from the doorway), and Steve finds the knowledge that Bucky is safe in the next room, even if he's twitchy and wakeful, deeply reassuring. It's almost too bad he doesn't snore. Steve would happily doze to that sound.]
Thanks. [He blushes a little, grinning.] I'd pass along the compliment to Erskine if I could.
[That could sound bitter, but it most comes out matter-of-fact. The serum didn't change his face much, but it sure reshaped the rest of him.
He laughs.] Pal, if you do too much wiggling around here, taking things slow is going to fly right out the window. I'm just letting you know.
[Because they're all tangled together, and Steve's groin is about at the level of Bucky's hip, and there's a distinct possibility of having to break for a cold shower if they keep at this for long enough.] But I don't want to get up, either.
[Maybe one day they'll be comfortable enough — Bucky will be comfortable enough in his own skin — to talk about the nightmares. Maybe one day there will be hands on shoulders or arms around waists, a soft voice to pull him out of the dreams. Maybe. Bucky knows it's going to take a lot of trust to get there, and it's not trust in Steve; that's an absolute. It's trusting himself that's the difficult part.
But he doesn't have to think about that right now.]
It's not just the serum. [He frames Steve's face with both hands, leans in to kiss him slow and sweet.] Most of it's just you.
[Because it's not just the physical, though Bucky has a very big appreciation for Steve's shape now. No, it's about the entire way he holds himself, confident in his strength but not needing to prove anything. And it's the parts of the old Steve still lingering, the ferocity and the mischief, the glint that he gets in his eye that tells Bucky that they're in for a wild adventure of some sort.]
You're not the only one with that problem, trust me. [Because Steve's weight on top of him is addictive, and Bucky kind of really wants to wiggle around under him (and over him and next to him and against him and oh) to see what kinds of reactions he can pull out of the other man.] A part of me, a real big part, just wants to say the hell with it and tell you to take me to bed.
[Steve trusts Bucky's intentions absolutely. He's been through Hell, and there are dark places that linger within him from that, and no man can help but be shaped by the things that have happened to him. Steve knows that from his own experience. He's not the same man he was before the war or the ice, and neither is Bucky. But there's a soul beneath the nightmares, some kind of essence of the person he is. Steve doesn't think that's changed much, for either of them.
He trusts that. And maybe sooner or later, so will Bucky himself.
The hands cradling his face make him blink and focus in dreamily on Bucky's face. It's a little slice of Heaven to be safe and warm against him, to be handled with affection and given lingering, sweet kisses. Some of his higher brain functions might be shutting down, as much with the feeling of comfort and satisfaction as libido.]
Bucky...that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time. [Deep down, he's still that cranky, reckless little guy whose lungs betrayed him every winter and who couldn't step away from a fight to save his life. It's just that there are a few layers on top of that now, too; layers of muscle, responsibility, and issues. No one in the world except the guy in his arms right now has the capacity to see all of it at once.
He kisses him back, slow and deep as if he's trying to express his emotions that way, but a moment later he's chuckling again, because the cushions are sliding out from under him, and he's sinking into the space between them and the back of the sofa, and it reminds him of pillow and blanket forts he and Bucky built when they were boys.
He props himself up a little, flushed and smiling, and starts to squirm out of his shirt.] Yeah? How big is this part of yours?
[He's playing with fire, maybe, but it's not like Bucky hasn't seen him shirtless before. He lets the discarded fabric hang over the arm of the sofa and sinks back into the other man with a sigh, half lust, half contentment.]
Anyway, do you want bed, or should we be building a blanket fort to make out in? We're getting the cushions all over the place, anyway.
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At least they're finally about the same height. That's way more convenient for kissing.
Steve grins, putting the burnt pancake on a plate and cutting it in half with the spatula.] Go for it.
And no, I'm not refrigerating the batter. [No matter how much he suddenly would rather be making out.] I'll make the pancakes up and if we're more interested in kissing then, we can refrigerate them and microwave them later.
[Because then he will at least have fulfilled his offer to make pancakes. If Bucky chooses then not to eat them right away, that's not Steve's fault.]
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You know that the way to my heart is through burnt breakfast foods, right? [Hey, it wouldn't be Bucky is there isn't at least a little teasing!
He leans away from Steve in order to reach for the drawer with the cutlery; the action causes his shirt to ride up just a little at the side. But he's sitting up again in a moment anyway, a pair of forks clutched victoriously in his hand. Winning!
And the pancake? Most definitely burnt, but there are worse things in life. He snags another bite and offers it to Steve off the fork.]
Your dedication to breakfast is inspiring. Did they have you make a nutrition video? [Those PSAs had been an absolute delight to find out about, and had left Bucky in tears from the laughter the first time he watched them. Still, he only ever brings them up when they're in private like this, because he knows it's likely to embarrass his friend.
Boyfriend? They'd have to figure that out.] Steve, I'm gonna be honest with you, I'm probably going to be more interested in kissing you than in just about anything else. Just saying.
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[His mouth goes dry when Bucky leans over and inadvertently exposes his side. It's not much, but it's enough for Steve to see scars and muscle, more than enough to make him imagine running his fingers down that exposed skin.
Oof. Yeah, he's definitely not going to be eating much before they fall into making out. There's a little ache in his chest, like his body is rebelling against being pulled away from Bucky's so soon.
When offered the bite of pancake, Steve can feel the blush creep down his neck, but he leans in and takes it, anyway, halfway between laughter and lust. But of course Bucky has to harass him, too, and--that's okay right now. He rolls his eyes, mildly pained, but manages to chew and swallow the bite of food before answering:] Three of 'em, but I don't know if they ever edited the clips into anything. There's a lot of terrible footage of me out there somewhere.
[Which is embarrassing, but no more so than the theatrics of his USO days. As long as Bucky doesn't tease him too much in front of the other Avengers, it's all right.
He raises an eyebrow then, studying Bucky's expression, and damn but it's gratifying to see an echo of what he's feeling there. He thought they were going to play it safe, take it slow, but it feels like now that they've crossed the barrier this far, they can't stop.]
...well, we ate one of them. [His voice crackles a little.] That's a start, right? I guess we could just...finish up later?
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And it's probably a good thing that Bucky is ignorant of the effect that that leaning has on Steve; he'd been much too focused on grabbing cutlery. Otherwise he might have said screw it to pancakes and batter both, and just hauled Steve right in for a makeout session. But no, there's a burnt pancake to share and Bucky's going to keep feeding Steve little syrup-drenched bites in between taking his own.
And as far as the videos? Bucky's honestly not going to say too much else about them. He knows how it makes Steve feel and he'll poke a little fun when they're alone, but more than that is stepping a little too close to being cruel and he doesn't want to hurt his friend like that.] I can't imagine anything you do being terrible, I hope you realize that.
[It probably sounds a little sappy, but it's true. Bucky can't remember a time that Steve hasn't thrown his all into whatever task was in front of him, and there's a kind of beauty in that dedication, that determination. Even when it was back alleys and guys who were bigger than he was, Steve never actually backed away from something he thought was right. Bucky thinks that it's that more than anything else that makes people want to follow him: his charisma, his determination, his sense of what's right.
It's only one of the things that Bucky finds attractive about him.
Another one, a very big one right now, is physicality. Bucky's always been very physical himself and right now he's very, very aware of Steve's presence next to him: how his gaze lingers, how he's drifted a little closer, how his voice betrays him and his skin is still a little flushed. And he likes it. He likes it a lot.]
Yeah. [He eyes what's left of the batter, eyes the stove; it's clear that Bucky's calculating.] Finish making them, but I'm gonna package them right away. Not much interested in eating right now.
[Microwaved pancakes aren't as good as fresh but fresh pancakes aren't as good as the prospect of making out with Steve.]
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[Why can't it be both? They're good at pushing one another's buttons, both sweet and sour.
There's something unexpectedly sensual about Bucky feeding him little bites of pancake. Steve is not sure what it is in his psyche that's getting off on that little gesture. He doesn't like being taken care of, for the most part; he had way too much of that as a kid. But Bucky makes it different, maybe because of their history or maybe just because he's goddamn Bucky Barnes. Steve would lick stray drops syrup off his fingers if he wasn't afraid that would bring their cooking venture to an abrupt conclusion.]
And now you're buttering me up. [He accuses, prepared to act as if he doesn't believe a word of Bucky's flattery. His eyes betray him, though. He's grateful for that kindness. Personally, Steve feels he does quite a few things that are terrible, mostly in the sense of embarrassing and laughable, but every now and again in the sense of ethically debatable. His moral core is rock-solid, but his actions have consequences that hurt to watch. It makes a guy wonder, is all.
His relentless determination, though, is undeniable. He knows that's something Bucky has always recognized in him, and maybe it made him pull his hair out in frustration years ago, but he seems to like it now.
Bucky himself, meanwhile, is made of charisma, head to toe. He was smooth as silk when they were boys, and now the years have roughed him up badly inside, but somehow he's lost none of his charm. And in the same way, even if he's lost his left arm, the physical grace remains. Maybe he doesn't see it in himself, but Steve sees the unquenchable light at the heart of James Buchanan Barnes, and loves it.
He nods, going back to cooking, and his concentration is utterly shot now, anticipation making his breath short and his face pink. At least he manages not to burn any more of them, even if he has to carefully not look at Bucky for most of the rest of the time he's flipping the pancakes.]
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He always has; that space has always been for him. Bucky just never thought that he could deserve to have so much of Steve's attention, not anymore. To know that he does is something he both treasures and guards fiercely.
And the looks that Steve's giving him? They make his stomach flip flop a little bit because while Bucky most certainly knows how to flirt — and he's damn good at it — flirting with Steve and knowing that the attraction is mutual? That's something entirely new.
It's a good thing he doesn't know about that half-formed impulse to lick syrup from his fingers or else things would escalate very very quickly.]
Maybe just a little. [He laughs though, and not unkindly. Even in lightheartedness like this there lurks a potential for heavy topics and heavy concerns and Bucky doesn't want to steer toward those waters right now. It's not complete avoidance; they've talked about the darker cast their lives now have, talked about how they've ended up where they are and even talked a little bit about hardships endured. But this isn't the time for those thoughts to intrude. No, this is a time for everything that's warm and welcoming, time for Bucky to retrieve clean plates and plastic wrap from the cabinets so that pancakes can slide right on with the wrap stretched carefully over top.
It gives him a good opportunity to watch Steve, as well: to watch his blush, to watch his hands as they maneuver the spatula, to watch the play of the muscles across his shoulders as hands and arms move. To just sit and watch, because he hadn't been kidding earlier: Bucky likes looking at Steve. A lot.
And once the pancakes are done? Once everything that needs to be packaged is packaged, once the stove is turned off so that there won't be any more adventures in burning? Bucky reaches out to touch Steve's shoulder, to let his fingers drag along it to find the side of his throat, his cheek. He keeps it gentle, not forceful; wants to draw Steve in with an invitation, not a command.]
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[The stalking delivery of his limerick earlier is a perfect illustration. Steve couldn't ask for better. In spite of everything they've been through and everything that's hanging over their heads, he feels content right now. Happy.
That's Bucky's fault.
Once the pancakes are packaged and ingredients are put away, Steve is drawn into his friend's touch like there's a magnet pulling him in. Wouldn't matter if it was more aggressive; Steve's not scared of him and he'd come in close willingly. Still, the softness is nice.
When they were younger, that gentleness would have been offputting. Steve never wanted to be coddled then, wanted to be seen as strong and masculine and a force to be reckoned with. Now, he wishes he hadn't taken tenderness and care for granted for so many years. Now, gentleness makes him melt inside.
His arms go around Bucky's waist tentatively.] You want to stay here or go sit on the couch?
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Steve brings out a lot of things in him. One of them is possibility. With Steve sliding close like this, that one word holds so much weight. And it's not an uncomfortable burden; it's one of the few things that isn't a burden at all.
Like cleaning the kitchen, like putting away ingredients and getting things into the sink to soak in some soapy water. Like putting the ingredients away and folding the apron over a stool by the counter. Like sharing a look with Steve, one that leads to getting close again, to a gentle touch and a smile and when Steve moves to return the embrace? It's perfect.
Bucky sways closer, into the embrace of those arms, his free hand curling against Steve's shoulder. There's a smile on his face, warm and open.] Both. Is both an answer?
[No Bucky, you really need to pick one.] I think the idea of the couch wins though. As much as I'm always going to like this kitchen for witnessing our first kiss, I'd really just like to be closer to you.
[It's a lot less teasing than most of Bucky's recent comments, and that's because of how important this is to him. How much he wants to do things right, how much he wants to match the sweetness Steve said he wanted. Not that there isn't room for teasing, for wickedness, even for a little bit of rough play; they're all things that Bucky knows he likes. But he also thinks he likes this, likes how it fits a lazy morning with half a burnt pancake shared and he's betting that Steve's kiss is going to taste sweet now, like syrup and chocolate.
He should find out for sure.]
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Now his raw nerves seem to stop aching so much in Bucky's presence. Sure, he's a mess himself. There's still guilt and there will always be a fight they can't get away from, but when Steve is with Bucky, he is home. His head knows it, and so does his body.]
Witnessing our first kiss? Now you really are being sentimental. [And he likes it. He's even a little desperate for it, and Bucky's reward for it is a tighter embrace, Steve burying his forehead against his shoulder for a moment.
But then, because he's pretty sure even with Bucky's increased bulk he still can, Steve pulls him off the counter and into his arms and makes for the next room, where the couch can be found.] All right, let's do this! That sofa won't know what hit it.
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Being with Steve is being home, no matter where they end up — to the end of the line and back again.]
You bring it out in me. [It's true; Bucky isn't really the sentimental sort, and most of the things he'd be sentimental about anyway are all tied up in Steve. And a moment like this, with Steve holding him closer, with Steve leaning closer? It's perfect for sentiment, for turning his head to nuzzle softly against Steve's temple.
And for clutching to Steve's shoulders when he's lifted off the counter! It's definitely not something he was expecting — Steve had certainly never been able to do it in their youth — and the action makes him laugh and wrap his legs securely around Steve's waist. He's going to be near breathless by the time they make it to the couch, eyes shining with the happiness he feels at just being together, just having this chance.]
Just don't drop me! [It's clear that it's a tease more than anything else; Bucky trusts Steve with his life and he most certainly trusts in Steve's strength now. He knows he won't be dropped. Playfully tossed on the couch and pounced, now — that would be a different story.]
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Maybe it's a little easier with Bucky. It means more, and the stakes are higher, but they've been close for a long, long time.
Steve is breathless by the time they reach the sofa, as well, because the feeling of Bucky's thighs wrapped around his waist is really intense. There's a lot of muscle, he can feel it, and there are some connotations his brain isn't prepared to deal with calmly. He bites down on his lower lip, grinning and blushing, and when they get to the couch, he pauses for only a moment, metaphorical wheels turning in his head as he tries to decide whether he wants to pounce on top of Bucky or let himself be pounced.
In the end, he opts for the former, more or less flinging them into the cushions and rolling on top of the other man. There's a little less space on the couch than is ideal for two tallish guys, so Steve's legs trail off the cushions, but it's pretty cozy anyway.
He props himself up on his elbows and smiles fondly down at Bucky. He's rose-pink, all the way down his neck.]
How's this work for you?
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Steve's not the only one who's face is getting a little bit pink.
But what really does it for Bucky is as they pass from kitchen to living room and he has the stray thought — in Sam's voice no less — about walls and sex ninjas and it's so ridiculous because they are nowhere near anything like that (yet...?) for all that they'd teased a little while Steve was cooking. And that actually helps with the tension, helps him to let go some of the embarrassment that is those implications and just enjoy the simplicity of being in Steve's arms, of trusting in Steve to move them.
Because he trusts Steve with everything — apparently even his heart. And that thought? That brings the laughter right back and he holds to Steve a little tighter, shoulders shaking with his mirth.
Bucky's in stitches by the time his back hits the couch cushions with Steve pressed atop him. It's a pure kind of laughter, free and clear and happy and delighting more than anything in just being a little bit silly with his best friend. With Steve. Who he gets to hold now too, gets to hug and kiss and feed burnt pancakes to and—
—and it's okay that Steve's blushing because Bucky is grinning like a fool. It's okay that they don't quite fit on the couch, that feet hang off and there's not really a good way to manage things like elbows and knees. It's perfect actually because it's not perfect, and that's just fine for two kids from Brooklyn.]
This is perfect. [He raises one hand to brush the hair back from Steve's face, trying to combat the bit of gravity that's working against him.] Nowhere else I'd rather be.
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Still, his blush isn't going anywhere any time soon.
How long has it been since he heard Bucky laughing? Really laughing, not just a snort of revelation or a bitter chuckle? Steve has good hearing, thanks to the serum, where he was deaf in one ear before--it's not supernormal, just on the upper end of the spectrum of decent human auditory skills--but he wishes it was better, so he could catch every little nuance of that laughing fit. Bucky sounds so...unburdened. Relieved, in the deeper sense of the word. He wants him to feel that way for the rest of his life.
That's probably not in the cards, but they're both going to damn well enjoy this while it lasts, today and any day they get after this.]
You sure? [He teases, but his eyes drift closed at the touch.] I can still haul your ass back to the kitchen if I have to.
[Or just kiss him again. Steve could absolutely do that. So he does.]
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Bucky could fall for this man, he thinks. He really could. And if that falling comes with literally falling onto a couch together, laughing and smiling and Steve’s blush? He has no complaints.]
Steve. [Bucky’s hand trails from his hair down to cup the side of his face, thumb roving over his cheek.] If we relocate again, it’s not gonna be to the kitchen.
[Eliminating kitchen and living room doesn’t leave a lot of the apartment left for consideration, so it’s probably clear that Bucky means one of their bedrooms. But that’s not something they need to consider now. It’s not even something they need to consider soon. Right now all he wants to do is return Steve’s kiss, sounding softly against his mouth. And he shifts a little, just enough to dovetail one of his legs between Steve’s in an attempt to bring him closer.]
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None of that's needed right now, luckily, and his countenance relaxes under Bucky's touch, eyes going heavy-lidded. Funny how a small gesture like that means so much, coming from the right guy.
He chuckles at Bucky's comment and gives himself over to the kiss completely, sinking into his arms. He gasps a little when their legs tangle together nonetheless; that's more overtly sensual, but it seems welcome.]
I'm not opposed to that either, honestly. [He murmurs when they pause for air, hooking his ankle around Bucky's.] Just don't want to push too hard for either of us, you know? It's been...a real long time.
[Not never, but definitely not since the war and the ice. Dating, yeah. Kissing, sure. Nothing quite this intimate.]
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The fact that Steve doesn’t seem to mind pressing even closer? That’s so good, warm in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He welcomes the tangling of their legs even further, would hook his own higher on Steve’s hip if their positioning on the couch was suited to it. But it’s not and there’s no sense in moving just for that, not when he can trade kisses back and forth just like this until they need to break away to catch their breath.
Those words surprise him though. He knows Steve’s not completely innocent, but he still hadn’t expected it. He’s still getting used to the idea that Steve could, that Steve does want him.]
I don’t know if I’m ready for it. [It’s not just sex; it’s Steve. That makes all the difference.] I want to be, you have no idea how much I want you, but... We need to figure it out.
[For right now though? Kissing. Kissing is fine; kissing is more than fine. Kissing is definitely a thing that Bucky wants more of, drawing Steve in again, parting his lips to welcome the other man to explore. Faintly he wonders when Steve got so damn good at this but decides a moment later that it doesn’t matter, that it’s Steve and right now the only one he seems to want to kiss is Bucky, and Bucky wants to show him exactly how he likes to be kissed.]
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It's strange and a little sad to feel the smooth metal plates stroking his cheekbone, but it's still Bucky. And on the other side, there's that familiar callused thumb and warm palm.]
We have all the time in the world, Buck. You don't have to be ready, there's no rush. [Steve isn't sure how ready he is. Upstairs brain isn't sure, that is. Downstairs brain doesn't require nearly so much nuanced thought to make a decision.] It's just good to be like this...
[He trails off and sinks into another kiss gladly. It feels like they're moving slow, underwater, but it's warm, comforting water, not like plunging into chilly rivers together. And they can breathe, against one another's skin.]
"upstairs brain" and "downstairs brain" is the greatest thing i have read all day
Really, his body is screaming at him to touch a lot more, to explore more in the way their legs tangle so easily, more of what Steve pressed against him could mean.
Time. They have time.]
Just don't stop kissing me.
[Because he might, just a little bit, be somewhat addicted to the way Steve tastes, to the way he kisses, to the warm, solid weight pressing him down into the couch cushions. He lets his hands wander, finally, one sliding up to sink into Steve's hair and the other tracing down the side of his jaw, his throat, to linger at his collarbone and finally slip to his chest. He could feel the warmth of the other man through his shirt and it was something so very alluring.]
haha, thank you!
Except then Steve does give a muffled moan, tilting his head to allow the touch down the side of his neck. He's got goosebumps from it. And for all that they're both protesting they're not ready, they don't seem to be putting the brakes on yet, either.
He nips at Bucky's lower lip, runs his tongue along the curve gently, and then nuzzles into the crook of his neck like he just wants to hold and be held for a moment.]
I just wanna be close to you. [He murmurs, breathless.] Doesn't matter if we're making out or what, I just need this. Okay? You can touch me wherever you want.
[He's having a hard time thinking of a better way to spend his day, now that the option of just snuggling and kissing Bucky for the next few hours appears to have arisen.]
♥!
Then again they've been dancing around this forever, haven't they? Gay chicken or something like it; maybe they're just so used to leaning against those barriers that it's natural to do so even laying together on the couch with their legs tangled. But that little nip at his lip delights him, earns Steve a bright shock of laughter and Bucky tilts his head so that Steve has more room to burrow against his neck.
He likes that. He really likes that.]
I'll stay as close as you want. [It's an easy promise to make, as easy as breathing, as easy as this thing between them. His hand shifts around to Steve's back, carefully traces his shape from shoulder blade to waist.] That is a hell of an offer to drop in my lap you know. Gonna be honest with you Steve, I could touch you all over.
[Because with Steve pressed against and tangled with him like this, with the temptation of him being so close, with permission freely given? With the fact that they haven't really put the brakes on since they shared that first kiss? It'd be so easy to drive things further. And that might not be off the table, for all that they've said it is. But it also doesn't need to happen right now, not when he's more than content to spend the bulk of the morning in the pursuit of molding the couch cushions to their shape.]
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Steve is going to take this as a challenge, then. He'll come up with some other game to wake Bucky up with, tomorrow or the next day. Nerf guns or water balloons, out of season Easter Egg hunts, whatever it takes to get a laugh or a kiss or both. This is his new project.
Meanwhile, he's taking Bucky at his word, sliding to the side a little so he's not squashing his chest, but without allowing much more space between them. They're a pile of long, overly-muscled limbs and they're pushing some of the cushions aside by this point. It's great.]
Yeah? Anything in particular you want a closer look at? [Steve laughs; he can't help pushing his luck this way, but he's also very comfortable in the chaos they've made of the sofa.]
Might be safer to keep it above the waist, if we're taking it slow. I guess I could let you up...
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For someone who still has nightmares on the regular, it's no small matter.
But right now is for shifting around on the poor, abused couch, cushions and pillows knocked askew by two men who are really probably a bit too big to be doing this. That kind of makes it perfect though, because it's a little bit silly and a lot bit fun.]
Uh, all of you? [Well, duh is what his tone of voice says, but Bucky's smile is gentle.] Steve, I don't know if you know this, but you're gorgeous.
[Keeping it above the waist is definitely a smart idea though; as it is Bucky's already very tempted just by how they're currently laying close. But he does slide a hand back to Steve's waist, gives a gentle squeeze.]
Or we could just wiggle around here together. I don't think I want to get up.
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But now it's an advantage to need and want less sleep. It means he can keep an eye on Bucky (from a distance; no one wants to wake up from a bad dream and find their friend staring at them from the doorway), and Steve finds the knowledge that Bucky is safe in the next room, even if he's twitchy and wakeful, deeply reassuring. It's almost too bad he doesn't snore. Steve would happily doze to that sound.]
Thanks. [He blushes a little, grinning.] I'd pass along the compliment to Erskine if I could.
[That could sound bitter, but it most comes out matter-of-fact. The serum didn't change his face much, but it sure reshaped the rest of him.
He laughs.] Pal, if you do too much wiggling around here, taking things slow is going to fly right out the window. I'm just letting you know.
[Because they're all tangled together, and Steve's groin is about at the level of Bucky's hip, and there's a distinct possibility of having to break for a cold shower if they keep at this for long enough.] But I don't want to get up, either.
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But he doesn't have to think about that right now.]
It's not just the serum. [He frames Steve's face with both hands, leans in to kiss him slow and sweet.] Most of it's just you.
[Because it's not just the physical, though Bucky has a very big appreciation for Steve's shape now. No, it's about the entire way he holds himself, confident in his strength but not needing to prove anything. And it's the parts of the old Steve still lingering, the ferocity and the mischief, the glint that he gets in his eye that tells Bucky that they're in for a wild adventure of some sort.]
You're not the only one with that problem, trust me. [Because Steve's weight on top of him is addictive, and Bucky kind of really wants to wiggle around under him (and over him and next to him and against him and oh) to see what kinds of reactions he can pull out of the other man.] A part of me, a real big part, just wants to say the hell with it and tell you to take me to bed.
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He trusts that. And maybe sooner or later, so will Bucky himself.
The hands cradling his face make him blink and focus in dreamily on Bucky's face. It's a little slice of Heaven to be safe and warm against him, to be handled with affection and given lingering, sweet kisses. Some of his higher brain functions might be shutting down, as much with the feeling of comfort and satisfaction as libido.]
Bucky...that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time. [Deep down, he's still that cranky, reckless little guy whose lungs betrayed him every winter and who couldn't step away from a fight to save his life. It's just that there are a few layers on top of that now, too; layers of muscle, responsibility, and issues. No one in the world except the guy in his arms right now has the capacity to see all of it at once.
He kisses him back, slow and deep as if he's trying to express his emotions that way, but a moment later he's chuckling again, because the cushions are sliding out from under him, and he's sinking into the space between them and the back of the sofa, and it reminds him of pillow and blanket forts he and Bucky built when they were boys.
He props himself up a little, flushed and smiling, and starts to squirm out of his shirt.] Yeah? How big is this part of yours?
[He's playing with fire, maybe, but it's not like Bucky hasn't seen him shirtless before. He lets the discarded fabric hang over the arm of the sofa and sinks back into the other man with a sigh, half lust, half contentment.]
Anyway, do you want bed, or should we be building a blanket fort to make out in? We're getting the cushions all over the place, anyway.
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again with the lag; I apologize
no worries at all, seriously! I don't mind waiting for you
you're lovely
♥!
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