Archive of Our Own

He’s not quite sure where he recognizes this kid from. Well, he’s not a kid really, he’s just a year or two younger than Bucky’s 24, but he sure looks like he’s about 18. The guy is tiny, about a head shorter than Bucky, and thin as all get out, maybe 130-140 pounds, Bucky can’t really tell, but he knows he recognizes that face from somewhere. Definitely too thin to have served with him, and a bit dorky to have been one of the kids Bucky hung out with in high school --

No, that’s it, high school. 

Some big kid pushing him around in the locker room, slamming his little frame against the metal, and Bucky just couldn’t stand the sight of it. He stepped in and hit the guy, told his friends to back the fuck off if they ever wanted to get it up again. Then he’d turned back to the kid - and he had been a kid back then, a freshman to Bucky’s junior - and offered him a hand. 

God, what was his name? 

Looking up at the guy from behind the counter, Bucky casually looked at the cash register, “Name?” 

“Steve,” Right, Steve, and he comes in to Winter Roast enough to know that they don’t need names on their orders. Hell, Bucky’s taken his order enough times for this to be totally weird. But he asks, and get’s Steve, anyway, and yeah that’s him. 

“Thanks,” Steve had wheezed as Bucky helped him up off the locker room floor. Bucky just shrugged, told him not to mention it, and went back to getting dressed. They never spoke after that. Steve wrote “Thanks again.” in his yearbook before Bucky graduated, and Bucky had given him the precursory “have a nice summer blah blah blah” because he was a dick and just didn’t know to say “You’re welcome.” in response. 

So after that, after he figures out it’s Steve, the scrawny freshman from Brooklyn Academy High School who comes in every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning, sometimes later in the day too, and sometimes on Sunday morning, and has been since August. He likes strong, black tea, mostly the Irish breakfast blend that Natasha gets special order for the cafe, and their bagels, plain, not toasted, with regular cream cheese. Sometimes the honey-raisin cream cheese, and sometimes coffee with cream and sugar. 

Bucky watches him. Not in a creepy way, but he does try to be subtle when he knows Steve isn’t paying attention. After figuring out who the hell he was, and why Bucky found him even vaguely familiar, he watches. He wonders what the kid’s doing now, what it is he puts down in the notebooks he usually brings, sometimes his computer, or a binder and a book. School stuff, maybe. Probably. Always was the studious type, and Bucky always wants to ask. He never does, and it’s always on the tip of his tongue, we went to high school together, didn’t we, like he doesn’t think of it every time Steve walks in the doors. Why he doesn’t, Bucky has no idea. 

“You’re getting really creepy,” Natasha tells him one day after she fixes someone’s latte, and sets it on the counter. Bucky frowns from where he’s restocking the display case with pastries and scones and other high-quality baked goods they get from the bakery down the street. 

“What?” He asks, pushing a tray of scones into place. 

“You’ve moved from subtly taking glances up at that skinny blond, to standing at the counter and watching him while someone else orders,” She crosses her arms over her chest, and leans her hip against the counter. 

“I don’t even know him,” He mumbles, mostly playing it aloof. 

“Yeah, apparently. Why don’t you just ask him out for coffee?” 

“Ha - ha.” Bucky rolls his eyes and stands up, closing the refrigerated case. 

“But really. I don’t want any sexual harassment lawsuits though so,” She waggles a finger at him, and pushes away from the counter, and walks to the back, “Be more subtle.” 

Bucky just shakes his head, wiping his hands on his apron as he returns to stand behind the register, trying not to feel like such a dope. So maybe he’s a little curious, but maybe just to talk to Steve, see how he’s doing. 

A week later on his break, Bucky walks up to Steve’s table by the window, and plops down in the seat across from him. The blond looks up, blue eyes wide and confused, and he sets his pen down on his notebook. 

“U-um - “

“Sorry. We went to high school together, didn’t we?” Bucky has been saying that over and over and over in his mind since he’d resolved that he was going to actually talk to Steve. Usually he’s a pretty confident guy, doesn’t have trouble picking up on other guys, like in clubs or whatever, but this is definitely different. 

“Oh,” Steve says, eyes searching Bucky’s face for a while, then recognition flickers over his own, “Oh! Oh yeah, gosh, I’m so sorry I didn’t remember!” He actually smiles, adjusting in his seat a little, and Bucky smiles too. 

“No, no problem, I just barely figured it out myself,” That’s a lie, it’s been a few months, but he keeps his trap shut about that. 

“Um...oh, yeah, James right? I can’t remember for the life of me your last name, I’m sorry,” Steve adds, chuckling a little as a small frown forms on his face. Bucky waves a hand. 

“Barnes. But call me Bucky, only Nat calls me James,” Steve nods at that, still smiling a little. 

“Well good to see you again, Bucky,” And yeah, that’s definitely recognition in his eyes, he knows that Bucky was that guy who helped him, “How uh - how’ve you been?” He speaks to Bucky like they’re old friends, when they’ve never said more than two words to each other. Bucky shrugs. 

“Pretty alright, how ‘bout you?” He asks in return, eyes flickering down to Steve’s books for a second, all spread out on the little table. He see’s paintings on the pages, so maybe...art? 

“Good, good,” He nods and smiles, and he’s got a great smile, is honestly really good looking for all that he’s a little guy. 

“Good,” Bucky replies, awkwardly, “Um, I don’t have much time, I’m on my break but I figured um - and if this is weird, and abrupt, by all means say no, but I was going to ask if you um...wanted to grab drink or something sometime. Catch up.” Vague, okay, that hadn’t been what he was shooting for, but okay. Steve doesn’t reply for a while, and a surprised expression slowly makes it’s way onto his face. 

“Oh. Um. Well I’ve got, I mean, I’ve got this final in a few days, and it’s like, y’know, the final, I’m going to be graduating soon, too, so I’m going to be busy for a while,” he says, speaking fast, “But I mean um, I’d like to, really. Maybe after?” 

“Oh yeah, hey no problem, I didn’t mean to um. Make you feel weird or anything I just um - “ With that, Bucky starts to get up. 

“No, no, not at all! Really, I’d like to. I’m just...graduating college and all, so I’m really stressing out about these papers and projects and stuff, y’know, so,” He laughs nervously, waving at all the papers spread out in front of him, “But I can...come by when I’m all done, maybe?” 

Bucky froze in his steps, eyebrows raised. “Yeah alright. Don’t worry about it, though. And hey, congrats on graduating,” he says, smiling genuinely after what feels like the first time in forever, and motions at Steve. 

“Thanks,” He smiles too, his expression a little apologetic, “Nice talking to you again. Honestly, I’ll get back with you about that drink.” 

“Okay,” Bucky chuckles, and turns back to the counter. He still feels like a dope, so he rolls his eyes at himself. He really shouldn’t have been so presumptuous, or abrupt, but since he was discharged, he’s had the slightest bit of trouble when it came to being social, when it actually mattered, anyway. Picking up guys for casual sex doesn’t count, and even then, he hasn’t done that all that often...really... 

After that, Bucky feels real awkward around Steve, or at least when he takes the guy’s usual order, and then slides it over the counter to him when it’s done. Steve smiles at him though, so that’s something, isn’t it, because Steve really honestly has a nice smile. It’s bright, open, like the rest of his expression usually is with Bucky. In return the brunette just feels bad and awkward, because maybe the kid’s got a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or something, and he thought Bucky was coming onto him - which he kind of was, a little bit - and wanted to let him down easy, but still come to his favorite cafe. 

Or maybe he honestly had some crazy-hard finals and was going to be busy for the foreseeable future, Bucky could just be paranoid. 

Anyway, he continued on. Serving coffee from nine to three, then three to nine on Saturdays. Sunday is for physical therapy and drinking beer on his couch while watching odds and ends on Netflix. Friday nights are for going out with Natasha and Leo and a few of his other pals. Usually bar crawling, sometimes in Manhattan, which generally meant crashing at Leo’s place or trusting him to bundle Bucky into a cab to get him back to his own apartment. Saturday afternoons were for sleeping in and getting rid of Friday’s hangover, or going to the deli for groceries. Saturday nights were for bar crawling too, only not bars, but, more often than not, gay clubs. It’s a good time. 

May passes, Bucky gets Steve his Irish breakfast tea and un-toasted bagels, really honestly hoping he’s going to tell Bucky, “Okay I’m graduated lets go out now!” just like that one morning. Why he’s so anxious to go out with Steve, he can’t put his damn finger on, but he can’t shake it. Steve just seems like a nice guy. Always tips well, and when he doesn’t have a lot of extra change, he’ll just tell Bucky or Natasha to keep the five cents or something. He always says thank you. Like, always. 

Maybe Bucky is just overly curious. 

In the first week of June, Steve comes in on a Saturday afternoon with another guy. He’s taller than Steve, maybe about Bucky’s height, but broader, and Bucky thinks he catches the name Sam, but isn’t sure. Natasha takes their order, and Bucky just watches from where he’s rinsing a cup at the back sink. Natasha glances over at him, and he looks away, trying not to be so obvious. He is anyway, but whatever. 

Wiping his hands dry, he goes to stand next to Nat at the counter, and tries not to look at Steve and friend. They’re at his usual table, talking about something, but there are decidedly no notebooks, books, or laptops to be found, so this obviously wasn’t strictly business. Bucky’s not angry. Tells himself he’s not. Really, it’s fine. He doesn’t even know this guy. It’s fine, he’s not jealous. 

“Bucky’s got it bad for this twink that comes in to the shop religiously,” Natasha smirks and glances at Bucky for a moment, before she looks at Leo, and tosses back whats left of her vodka. Leo narrows his eyes at her and leans over the table, arms crossed over it. 

“...You know what twink means?” He asks in his thick accent, cocking his head to the side as Bucky just laughs, and takes a sip of his own drink. 

“I spend enough time around the two of you that unfortunately, yes, I’m pretty well versed in gay slang,” She says flatly, rolling her eyes and flagging down a waiter to order another round. Leo looks over at Bucky, raising an eyebrow curiously. 

“Maybe not bad. I knew him in high school. Sort of. He was two years under me ‘n’,” Bucky shrugs, “I dunno, he’s been coming in for forever, but it’s gotta be coincidence, right?” 

“Sure, sure,” Leo nods pursing his lips as he shrugs, “In that cosmic sort of way I suppose.” He takes a sip of his scotch, side-eyeing Bucky. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I asked him out already, he’s busy with school. Graduating, actually, so - “

Leo laughs, “Jesus when Nat said twink I didn’t think you’d go that young.” 

“Oh fuck off, graduating from college,” Bucky snaps, and chews up an ice cube, “So I’m kind of...waiting.” 

“Wow. I’d say that’s ‘having it bad’,” Leo grins into his glass, chuckling a little. 

“How? I’m not saying I’m saving myself for him, for Christ’s sake,” Okay, they’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be. Really. 

“Oh good, I need the company tonight,” Leo says and, setting his drink down, leans over the table to plant a rather sloppy kiss on Bucky’s lips. He’s like that, though, pretty casual, because he knows he’s good looking, has some sort of corporate job that keeps him in a slick high-rise apartment and vacation to Ibiza every now and then. Bucky doesn’t really remember how they met, a friend of a friend of Natasha’s or something, but they have a lot in common for all that they’re different. And Leo’s not bad in bed, either, so thats. Cool. 

Not a few days later, though, on a Tuesday afternoon, Steve comes in. It’s not his usual time of the morning, so somethings obviously off. He smiles at Bucky when he reaches the counter, and, as per usual, the brunette asks Steve what he’d like. 

“Nothing, actually,” he says with a smile, hands in the pockets of his khakis--that’s another thing about Steve; he’s always really well dressed. Bucky’s not sure he’s ever seen him in jeans or shorts or anything, “Just came to take you up on your offer.” His smile turns a little conspiratorial, and Bucky smiles even though he doesn’t quite process what Steve is saying. 

After a minute though, it clicks, and he feels dumb for taking that long. “Oh! Yeah, sure. Uuum...When? Like...are you busy later?” 

“Nope,” Steve gives a little shrug, and Bucky tries not to think that it’s cute. He looks back at the clock behind him, and sighs heavily. 

“Uuuhm. Well I get off at three. Do you want to like umm...get an early dinner or something?” He shrugs too, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yeah alright. How bout like fiveish? There’s a good like...a good noodles place a few blocks east of here, if that’s closer. Or pizza, if you’d prefer?” And really, no, Steve is very cute. Bucky leans his hands on the counter. 

“Noodles?” 

“Like... asian noodles,” Steve replies with a chuckle, and Bucky nods. 

“I’m up for that,” he says, smiling a bit wider, because he’s just really, really excited. And why! He doesn’t even know Steve! 

“Great,” The grin Steve gives him in return makes something in Bucky jump a little, and then they discuss details like address, and whatnot. When Steve finally leaves, they’re both grinning like idiots, which is just awesome, and the next hour and a half could not go fast enough. 

At three, Bucky tries not to race home, because he’s still got two hours, and getting ready doesn’t take nearly that long. So he takes his time, even though home is an apartment not too far from Winter Roast. It’s warm, though not the sweltering hot of summer just yet, and it’s a nice night to be out. 

When he gets home, he gets in the shower, shaves, brushes his teeth, and spends a little more time than he usually does on his hair. He wants to make a better second impression, because he no doubt came off a little weird when he asked Steve out in the first place, and it’s not like his staring was all that subtle either, so Steve probably caught him just watching a few times. That makes Bucky a bit nervous, but jesus, when was the last time he’d been so nervous about going out with someone?

Then again, when was the last time he’d been out with someone, on some semblance of a date, with a person he liked. 

So maybe he does have a reason to be nervous. It’s been way too long since he’d just had dinner with someone that wasn’t Nat or Leo or Clint. He can’t remember; probably back in high school, but even then did that really count? Thinking about it just makes him nervous, so he just stops. 

He pulls on pretty simple clothes, a clean v-neck into which he tucks his dog tags, and a pair of jeans and by that time he has a good half an hour left. He dally’s around his apartment for a while, pacing, checking his phone. Basically just making himself even more nervous for about 15 minutes, before he grabs the keys to his bike, and jogs down the stairs to his door. 

The noodle place isn’t far, and Bucky parks his motorcycle right outside on the street. Inside, he doesn’t see Steve, so he just picks a place at the windows, and when a waitress comes up to his table, he says he’s waiting for another. He checks his phone, drums his fingers on the worn formica of the table, and stares out the window, so he sees Steve coming up the sidewalk. He’s dressed in his usual sort of button up and slacks, and he’s so adorably dorky Bucky has to laugh. It’s endearing, it really is. 

When Steve steps inside, Bucky waves a hand, but he’s about the only person there. Steve smiles his usual, bright smile as he comes to sit down, and they exchange a few greetings, the precursory hey how are ya blah blah blah. Bucky asks what’s good and they pick up their menu’s, and look at them after ordering drinks. The first few minutes are brisk, as Bucky sort of remembers how to do this sort of thing, and then their waitress comes back to take their orders. He gets sidewalk noodles, whatever they may be, and doesn’t pay attention to what Steve gets. 

Then they sort of start talking about high school. 

Steve asks Bucky if he stayed in Brooklyn, that’d he’d heard something about the army, but wasn’t sure. Sighing, Bucky looked down at the tabletop, and scratched the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, the army,” He nods, and looks at Steve again, “I wasn’t sold on college, and my dad died in the Gulf, when I was five or six.” Both his mom and dad had been real young when they had Bucky, and after dad had died, mom went down hill, though Bucky’s memories of those days were...fuzzy. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, taking a sip of his water. Bucky waves a hand. 

“Nah, it’s okay,” he replies, smiling a little. He doesn’t like talking about his family. Not his parents, anyway. 

“So um...why are you back here, then if...that doesn’t sound too offensive,” Steve chuckles, tight and Bucky can’t help but do the same. He reaches up to the collar of his shirt with his right hand, pushing it to the left, to expose what he can of his scarred shoulder. 

“Very first - and only tour, I guess, two years ago, we were making out way out of Samarra. Got hit by a roadside bomb, my truck was the first in the line,” Shaking his head a little, Bucky rolled his shoulder, “I got real, real lucky to only just about losing my arm. Four surgeries later, I’ve got decent use of it, still aches in the winter - ....Wow, honorable discharge, that’s why the hell I’m not in the army anymore, sorry,” Bucky chuckles, though it’s humorless, and he waves a hand. He doesn’t really talk to anyone about all that, because he’s trying to put it behind him, forget. 

“No, jeese, not at all Bucky, I’m so sorry. I mean - well...I don’t - ” Steve sighs and stops, his expression both sympathetic and apologetic, “I’m sorry that happened to you.” 

Bucky just waves him off, “Nah, it’s fine. It’s done, y’know?” Smiling, he rests his elbow on the table, then his chin on his hand, “Your turn,” And Steve smiles bashfully, looking down at the table, and that smile does something to Bucky, strange and sudden and light. It’s weird. 

“Well, I haven’t done much, really just um school,” he says, and looks up at Bucky, still smiling a little. He shrugs, nodding.

“Well for what? Where?” Bucky laughs, because Steve does seem like the modest type, definitely. Maybe shy. 

“Visual arts over at NYU,” Steve replies with a smile, and Bucky raises his eyebrows. 

“NYU, wow. So what does a visual arts major....do?” That makes Steve laugh, and is there anything better than the feeling you get when you can make someone laugh? 

“Drawing, basically,” The blond says with another humble shrug, and Bucky just smiles at him. 

When their noodles come, they don’t talk too much more, just a few yeah wow this is really good’s, and then just small talk. Steve asks Bucky about the cafe and Natasha, other odds and ends. It’s nice to just talk to someone, not that Bucky is deprived of it, but someone different, new, who actually listens. They talk about high school a little, though nothing in depth, and about Bucky’s motorcycle, New York, a hell of a lot of other things. 

Bucky picks up the check, but they stay for almost an hour after they’re finished, talking. It’s fucking great, and by the time they get up to leave Bucky is...soaring. Where he thought he had only been interested in Steve out of sheer curiosity, he now found himself just wanting to know more, to see him again and make him laugh. It’s not often, Bucky feels, that he meets someone he actually wants to see on a daily basis, but then again, he’s been seeing Steve every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday since as long as Bucky’s been working at the cafe. 

Steve walks Bucky to his bike, and they say goodbye, sort of, and it’s a little anti-climactic, so Bucky gets on his bike as Steve walks back down the street. But just as he hits the kickstart, the blond moves back into view.

“Hey!” He calls over the rumble of the engine, and Bucky looks over at him, surprised, “Hey um - I uh was going to um - well, y’know - give you um...” He scratches his forehead, shifting his weight, “My - my number. If you wanted to do...something again...” Theres a high blush on his cheeks that it looks real good on him, and Bucky grins so wide it hurts. 

They exchange numbers, and a few weeks later, they go out to a movie. Bucky isn’t sure, yet, even after the first not-date, if Steve’s gay, and he doesn’t know if he should presume to ask, so he doesn’t yet, but the second not-date sort of feels like a date. He’s pretty firmed up on the fact that he likes Steve, because hell he’s been watching the guy from a far for god knows how long, watching him do homework on cloudy mornings and evenings after school when apparently he had nothing else to do. It might be a little creepy of Bucky, but he’s not sure he really cares, and hey, now that he’s actually talking to Steve, does it really matter? 

Anyway, the movie thing that feels more like a date. They go see some independent film Steve suggests at this old theater thats clearly there for movies that won’t show in like, mainstream theaters or something like that. Bucky asks Steve if he wants anything as they pass by the snack bar, and when Steve says no with a smile, Bucky feels kind of stupid. He just nods and they head into the theater. 

When they take their seats, they talk, even though it’s a little stilted. Feeling each other out. Bucky teases Steve about not coming in to the shop that recently, and Steve explains he’s been looking for internships in Manhattan at different sorts of animation companies and things like that. It intrigues Bucky, and he asks about that because he finds it fascinating that Steve’s an artist for some reason. He’s met plenty, and they’re mostly pretentious cocksuckers, in his opinion, so he doesn’t bother, but Steve is obviously neither of those things; in fact he’s very...real. He’s got a humble quality to him, and he’s still sort of shy with Bucky in the way that he turns his head away and laughs when the conversation turns to him. 

The lights go down and all throughout the movie Bucky fights to fake yawn and put his arm around Steve, even though it’s too early for that. They watch in silence, and it’s a fine movie, sort of random and indie and a little pointless, one of the ones that leave you unfulfilled but the cinematography was nice, right? 

Afterward, they stand outside for the movie theater for a little while and talk about the movie, Bucky leaning up against his bike while Steve stands on the sidewalk. It’s so, so nice. When Steve looks down the street and remarks that he should probably get going, Bucky nods, pulls out his keys, then pauses. 

“You want a ride?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. It might be a little forward, but maybe...polite? He’s not really sure. Steve pauses too, looking a bit surprised. 

“Um...I’m not that far?” He replies, mouth twisting, but Bucky just shrugs. 

“No big deal. You don’t have to, I just figured since I let you pay for the movie I could give you a lift,” That’s a blatant lie, but he smiles lopsidedly, and Steve does too. 

“Alright,” he says with a shrug, and Bucky grins, swinging a leg over the seat of his bike, and scooting up a bit, “I’ve never rode on one of these,” Steve says as he steps down off the sidewalk, looking at the seat behind Bucky skeptically. 

“It’s not as big of a thrill as everyone thinks,” Bucky says with a wink, “And I don’t own a helmet because I don’t really go anywhere that’ll kill me, or else I’d give it to you.” Steve smiles at that too, and climbs on behind him. 

“Well, just don’t too fast or I’ll probably catch a breeze and fall off,” Bucky feels Steve’s hands on his waist, but they stutter, draw back, and settle on his shoulders again. He smiles to himself and turns the keys in the ignition.  

Steve shouts directions to his house into Bucky’s ear as they wind around a few blocks, and it’s not many, so the ride is short, but Bucky doesn’t really care. The whole time he can feel Steve’s slighter body behind  him, like he’s a little afraid to press right up against Bucky’s back, and maybe he is because that’s pretty intimate for a second date. So all he feels are Steve’s hands and his boney knees against his thighs. 

When Steve points to a building on their left, Bucky pulls up to the sidewalk, and shuts off his bike. Steve gets off, sort of awkwardly, but it’s terribly endearing. 

“Thanks,” he laughs, running his hands through his wind-tousled hair.

“No problem. I had fun,” Bucky says fondly, letting his hands slide away from the bike’s handles, and he rests them against his thighs. 

“I did too. Sorry if the movie was a little boring,” Steve replies with a nod, and he’s still standing close to Bucky next to the bike. 

“Nah, not at all, it was interesting,” Bucky says with a shrug, and Steve just laughs. 

“Which is code for boring,” They both chuckle at that, not awkward any more, but easy, like they’ve been friends for ages. Bucky keeps his eyes on Steve’s, and after a few moments the blond meets his eyes, and they look at one another for what feels like an eternity. Of course it’s only about five seconds, but it feels like long enough for Bucky to discern the expression on Steve’s face, then push up and lean over until his lips touch Steve’s. 

It’s quick and soft and a very first kiss, but it’s enough. It’s perfect in Bucky’s mind and when he pulls away, just an inch or two, Steve’s blushing again, but he smiles anyway, a tiny little grin. His blue eyes look warm in the orange-yellow light of the street lamp a few feet away, and it’s nice, it’s a good moment that Bucky files away for later. 

He bites his lip to hold back his blatant beam as he slides back onto his bike, and turns the keys in the ignition. Steve watches, smiling a secretive looking smile. 

“I’ll um. I’ll talk to you later, huh?” Bucky says, raising his eyebrows a little. Steve nods. 

“Yeah,” And his voice is soft, and god this is just so good. Bucky gives him another grin as he pushes away from the curb. 

Steve texts him later, something vaguely funny about the movie, and mostly it’s just an excuse to start a conversation, which is perfectly fine with Bucky. 

They go for drinks a few days later, Steve kisses Bucky as they sit at the bar, and the next day he stops by the cafe while Bucky’s on break. That weekend they go to a movie again, a better one, then get dinner and wander around Brooklyn. It’s the best Bucky remembers feeling in god knows how long, if ever, and he feels sort of dumb with it. Leo tells him it’s puppy love, one night at the Russian’s apartment while they’re smoking on his balcony, and he catches Bucky grinning around his cigarette at a text message. He gives Leo a withering look in response. 

He doesn’t care what it is, it’s nice. 

They go to lunch on Bucky’s days off, go to Central Park. It’s hot, so they get ice cream and sit in the shade and interrogate each other, or just talk, laugh, sometimes Steve brings his sketchbook and they people watch. Those days are fun, the learning days. Bucky has to hold back the urge to simply blurt out “I love you” because he isn’t 100% sure that’s what this is yet, and obviously he doesn’t want to scare Steve off. But he’s completely enamored with the little blond anyway. 

One Thursday that Bucky has off, about two months in, they take the subway into Manhattan again and go to MoMa. All the modern art really isn’t Bucky’s thing, but he goes with it because the way Steve looks when he’s explaining this or that is completely worth it. He loves this stuff, so Bucky loves it too. It takes a while to see most of the stuff, but it’s fine, Bucky likes walking around with Steve in the quiet of the building, likes watching how he circles some of the sculptures, and how his mouth falls open while looking at some of the other huge paintings. It’s just a nice day. 

On the train ride back, they sit sagged together in their seats, Bucky’s head leaned back against the window, and Steve’s on his shoulder.

“I’ve never been with anyone this long,” Bucky says, apropos of absolutely nothing, and he almost regrets it when he says it, but whatever. They haven’t really said, specifically, that they’re dating, but even still, Bucky’s never been with someone even casually for a little over a month. Or even been this close to someone, maybe that’s what he means. 

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, sitting up straight. Bucky does the same and shrugs. 

“I’ve never....I don’t know. I was never really with anyone in high school, you know that. And then there was the war and all the shit in between - ” He stops, because he’s not really sure he wants Steve to know that he has had casual sex with a decent amount of people up until about a month or so ago, “I just never. Y’know. Have been with anyone seriously.” 

Steve looks at him for a little while, thinking. “You mean the way um. The way we are? Or.... I mean are we serious?” His expression is a little hopeful, and Bucky smiles. 

“I think so,” Bucky teases, because suddenly he feels a bit nervous, though he doesn’t know why. It’s weird. 

“You think so?” Steve raises his eyebrows, and his smile falters like he’s unsure if Bucky is joking or not. 

“No, I mean - fuck I’m joking. I’d say we are,” he says with an air of finality, and leans his head back against the window again, still looking at Steve.

“I’ve only really had one serious relationship,” he says, twisting in his seat to bring one knee up to his chest, and then sets his chin on it, “Back in high school with a girl named Peggy.” 

“Really?” Bucky asks, a little shocked that it’s a girl, and that he never saw Steve with any girl. Then again, he hadn’t really been paying attention. 

“Yeah. She went to a different school though, and was an exchange student. Lived in my neighborhood. I don’t know if I was actually in love with her, because I was about 17 but. It sure felt like it,” Steve smiles fondly, and it’s nice to see. 

“And what happened?” Bucky asks. 

“She went back to England. I wrote her a few times but it sort of tapered off when I got into college, y’know,” Steve shrugs, purses his lips. 

“Oh wow. ‘m sorry,” Bucky says quietly, and Steve shrugs again. 

“It’s fine. It’s not like it was an ugly break up or anything. We both knew she had to leave some time.” Sitting up again, Steve hugs his knee to his chest, swaying a bit with the way the train rattles over the tracks. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Steve looks down, expression wistful, and that says more than he doesn’t. Bucky smiles, snowing. 

“You loved her,” he says, and not as a question, before biting back a smile. Steve chuckles shyly, though Bucky can’t tell if he’s blushing, or if it’s just the general chill of the day. 

“Sure feels like it,” he murmurs, though he still doesn’t look up to meet Bucky’s eyes. 

“Did you lose your virginity to her?” Bucky tries to make it sound playful, and mostly succeeds, but probably still sounds like a dope. Steve looks up at the brunette, smile faltering a little, but he keeps it on anyway. 

“No um -... “ He shakes his head, and swallows, keeping his eyes pointedly averted this time, “I sort of... haven’t yet? Like of course we did things, you know, I was 17, but never... all the way,” Bucky couldn’t help but snort and laugh at the last bit, and it made Steve’s eyes snap up to him, his smile fading completely now. 

“Oh god, Steve, no, I’m not laughing at you, I swear - fuck what an idiot I am, it wasn’t at you, Stevie,” Shifting in his seat, Bucky curls a hand around the back of Steve’s neck, and kisses him, simple and soft, “I was laughing at the ‘all the way’ part, because I’m still a 12 year old boy. Or have the maturity of one, I swear I’m not laughing because you - “ He stops for a second, frowning as he looks into Steve’s eyes, “Are you still a - “

“Yes,” Steve doesn’t snap, but his voice is a little sharp, “Sort of. Mostly. I mean I’ve never, like actually...”

“I get you, don’t hurt yourself,” Bucky says with a smile, shifting so that he’s got a leg up on the benches too, one dangling off of them, and Steve is sort of between his legs. The blond pauses for a little while looking over Bucky’s face. 

“You’re not funny.” But of course a little smile teases the corners of his lips, and Bucky leans in to kiss him again. 

When they get back to Brooklyn, Steve asks Bucky if he wants to come back to his apartment and hang out, and of course Bucky says yes. It’s a nice little place on the third floor, just two rooms, white and sparsely decorated, but it’s very Steve and Bucky likes it. They watch TV for a while, Steve at one end of the couch, Bucky at the other, their legs tangled under a shared blanket. At around five the sun starts to set, and Steve gets up, asking what Bucky wants for dinner. They order Indian take out from someplace Steve knows apparently, and it’s amazing. 

Afterward they collapse on the couch again, only this time they lay pressed together, parallel on the couch, legs still tangled. It’s nice, Bucky naps a little, thinks Steve does too, because they sort of wake up together around eight. Steve turns back to Bucky, bleary eyed, and they kiss and he’s a little too warm from the blanket and extra body heat but it’s good. They fool around a bit after that, Bucky kicks the blanket away, they shift and adjust till Steve is under Bucky. 

Inevitably Bucky’s hands wander, he holds Steve’s hips, they wander a little more south, and he sits up a bit from where he’s laying between the blond’s legs. His lips are wandering over the other man’s neck, a little purposeless, pressing a kiss here and nipping there, maybe concentrating enough to suck at the supple skin. Steve’s got goosebumps, he makes small sounds that get Bucky’s blood rushing a little faster, though it’s probably all rushed south at this point, and outright moans when the brunette’s hand presses against his cock through his jeans. Bucky groans at the sound, because jesus if he thought the sounds Steve would make would be this sweet, he would have tried this sooner. 

“Sure this is okay...” Bucky whispers against Steve’s mouth, and the blond laughs. 

“I’m not completely a virgin Bucky,” he huffs, hands smoothing down Bucky’s arms, and Bucky can’t help but laugh too. 

“I’m asking for consent, Steve,” Bucky teases, “Need verbal confirmation, y’know.” He can feel Steve’s smile when they kiss again. 

Eventually they pull away enough to wiggle their jeans off, and gosh, Steve is so skinny. Bucky’s hands look huge on his hips, huge and dark against the blond’s milky complexion. It’s nice though, unblemished and flushed beautifully. Bucky pushes up Steve’s shirt to kiss at his stomach, his hips and chest, scrapes his teeth over one tightened nipple, and Steve gasps. 

It’s great. 

Bucky pushes Steve’s briefs down to his knees, then sits up to shimmy out of his boxers just enough to get his cock free, and realizes all of a sudden that they’re doing this, Steve’s hard for this too. He’s had sex with plenty of people recently, or at least recently a few months ago, but obviously that wasn’t anything compared to this. All of a sudden Bucky had someone who mattered and that he actually really did care about. Like a lot. It’s strange, for a split second, until their skin touches and his thoughts are effectively scattered. 

They rut against one another, slow and just this side of enough for a while, mouths and tongues still pressing and sliding and hot. Bucky likes the feeling of Steve’s nimble, artist’s fingers in his hair, pulling and scratching against his scalp. It’s nice. Well, it’s better than nice, it’s really fucking great. Only when he’s getting a little desperate to come does Bucky work a hand between them to wrap around both of their cocks, holding them together in the tight circle of his fingers. Steve gasps into his mouth, and christ it’s good, so Bucky starts moving his hand, still a little slow, but he keeps rolling his hips, too, so the friction is almost two fold. 

With a broken moan, Bucky, rather reluctantly, pulled away from the kiss, looking down at Steve for a moment. He was all flush and damp lips and huge pupils, and Bucky ducked his head against the blond’s neck to keep himself from staring and being generally creepy. Again, he adores Steve, but he’s not sure if he’s ready for the guy to know just how much yet. Why, he’s not sure, but he’s not used to the feeling. Not used to feeling so at home with someone he barely knows. 

Steve’s sounds get closer together, louder, a little more demanding the closer he gets, as far as Bucky can tell. His fingers dig into Bucky’s bicep hard, a bit painful, and his eyes are closed, brown furrowed like it hurts him. Bucky takes that as cue to stroke them a bit quicker, because he can feel it too, he is close, and he noses along Steve’s jaw until he gets to the soft skin under the blond’s ear, where he can’t help but suck a little mark. 

But then Steve is seizing under him, going rigid and still, and Bucky can all but feel the other man’s cock pulse in his hand as he comes over them both. The sounds sound like they’re being torn from him, really lovely that way, and it triggers Bucky’s orgasm, and before he knows it he’s there too, coming all over his knuckles and Steve’s cock and Steve’s soft belly. He all but collapses against Steve as the aftershocks rattle through them both, and Bucky strokes them both until they’re nearly soft. 

He swallows hard and tries not to let his stomach touch Steve’s, because he’s still got his shirt on, and he rests his elbow next to the blond’s head as he catches his breath. Steve’s breathing ragged too, Bucky can feel it against his hair, but it’s nice. It’s so nice, calm, and just right. An odd sense of right, really, and when Bucky finally works up enough energy to push himself up to look down at Steve, he grins. 

Steve smiles back lazily, bleary eyed as he reaches up to run a hand through Bucky’s hair, “Mmwhat?” He breathes, voice soft and a bit like he hasn’t used it in a year or so. Bucky tries not to think the word cute, finds himself trying not to think that a lot with Steve recently, but can’t really help it. 

“Nothing,” Bucky pants, smiling a bit before leaning down to peck at Steve’s lips, then gets a little carried away and starts kissing all over Steve’s face; his cheeks, his nose, his temple, his jaw, “I just - ...” He doesn’t know what, “Um...” 

Steve chuckles, and it’s a bright, lovely sound that Bucky just wants to wrap all around himself, and fall asleep to. Which he might just, now that he’s feeling that sort of post-orgasm drowsy. 

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, like he understands, pushing a hand through Bucky’s hair, “Yeah.” 

Eventually, what feels like hours later, Bucky moves, and they slowly move into Steve’s bathroom to get cleaned up. It’s a bit awkward, but hey, that’s par for the course, he suspects, and it’s nice anyway. It’s been a perfect day, really. When Bucky steps out of Steve’s bathroom, the blond is curled up on one side of his bed, looking a little drowsy, and Bucky wants nothing more than to curl up behind him and go to sleep, but - 

“I think I’m gonna head home,” he murmurs, smoothing his shirt over his stomach because somehow it’d managed to stay clean, “Gotta work in the morning.” 

“Okay,” Steve starts to sit up, but Bucky waves a hand at him and says “Stay there, you look sleepy,” Instead he comes to Steve, braces a hand on the mattress and leans down to kiss him, soft and slow, “And nice like that. Comfortable.” He gives Steve a slow smile, one he gets in return before Steve stretches up to kiss him again, with a little tongue this time and that makes Bucky smile a bit wider even if his mouth is otherwise occupied. 

He really doesn’t want to leave, but it’s probably too early in this to start the sleeping over part. When he breaks the kiss with Steve, he lingers close for a moment, both of them still smiling, and it’s stupid smiles now, but Bucky can’t really care. Finally he draws away and turns to go, but not before giving Steve a ‘see you tomorrow’, and in return the blond say’s he’ll text. 

Bucky grins like an idiot as he makes his way down to his bike, and when he drives home, but when he’s alone in his apartment, doubt creeps up on him as he goes through his house flicking on the lights. Doubt that seeps through him like damp cold, even though it’s still about 80 degrees outside, that maybe this is going to quick, that he’s doing this wrong, whatever this even is. He said earlier that he’d thought they were serious but they hadn’t really had a conversation about it. He wonders if he’s got too much invested in this, bet all his chips at once, because he’s lonely. And he has friends, sure, and a job and it’s all well and good, but that doesn’t mean he’s of sound mind. 

There’s an old bottle of Xanax in his bathroom cupboard that he looks at every once in a while when he feels like this. It’s too old to take, but it’s like a reminder that if he needs it, if something gets that bad, he can call someone. There’s a pill for that, even if he thinks he’s worked past this sort of anxiety. As he gets ready for bed, he talks himself down, texts Steve, even, just to... say good night, maybe just talk to him. He just needs a little distraction from his own mind for a half a second, or maybe a reassurance to talk him back off the ledge, so to speak. 

And it’s not like he’s that bad--anymore. But little insecurities start as just that, then fray and crack until he’s panicking. It’s silly, he knows that, and he also knows that it’s deeper than just being afraid that he’s too serious about being in a relationship. Coming back from the war hadn’t been as bad as it could have been--as bad as it was for some of the people knew. He didn’t sleep well for a long time, and there were the surgeries, the pills, the therapists. So it’s been a terribly long two years for him, and really, he’s just about getting to a decent place in his life. 

Steve might just be the pinnacle of that. 

It’s a little scary too. He has to tell Steve about this, maybe, and that’s frightening to him, but then his gut clenches when the thought of “well you may not be with him long enough to have to tell him” enters his mind, and he has to try and quash that quickly. He lays in bed going through texts from Steve, reading the mostly mundane shit they’ve said to each other, then types out a quick good night message, and teethes on the edge of his dog tags until he gets a reply. It’s simple, makes him smile. 

He doesn’t sleep well, but Steve comes into the cafe the next day, and that’s better too. 

A few weeks later, Bucky gets a call from a guy he served with, Toro, that he’s going to be in New York for something, business, family, Bucky doesn’t know, just pointedly sets up a date and time to take his friend out for drinks. Toro had been in his infantry division in Iraq, and up until the roadside bomb, they were as good of friends as friends get in the war. After Bucky had been discharged, they kept in touch here and there as best they could, even when Toro went back for a second tour. There was a framed picture on Bucky’s mantle piece of himself, Toro, and two of their other friend’s Jim and Namor in all of their gear somewhere in the desert, grinning at the camera (except for Namor, his smiles were few and far between).

Bucky calls Leo and Nat and tells them they’re going out this weekend with one of Bucky’s friends, then hangs up and calls Steve to tell him too.

“Yeah sure, that’s great Bucky. It’ll be nice to meet him,” Of course Steve is 100% on board. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky scrubs a hand through his hair as he paces around his apartment, “If you um. If you want to bring any friends with you, that’d be um. Okay.” 

Steve’s quiet for a little while. “Ooooh... so this is also an excuse to meet the friends huh?” Bucky grins. 

“You caught me.” 

“I’ll see if Sam wants to come, Sharon maybe too. They’ve been asking to meet you,” Steve says casually, and naturally that spikes Bucky’s interest. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” 

“Well nows their chance I guess,” he chuckles. 

“You sound nervous,” Steve says, like a simple observation, and Bucky doesn’t say anything for a little while, just looks down at the street outside his window. 

“Um. I’m not. Really. I mean maybe a little bit. Nat and Leo, well, mostly Leo, he’s....eccentric?” 

“Oh please, everyone says that about their friends. I’m sure they’re both normal, pretty well adjusted people, Bucky.” 

Bucky just starts laughing, and when he quiets down, he leans his forehead against the warm window pane. He’s not afraid of Steve meeting Natasha and Leo, so much as the things they might tell him that Bucky hasn’t. 

“Probably. Also maybe a little nervous that - “

“My friends won’t like you?” Steve laughs at that, like it’s impossible, “I think this is par for the course. At least we don’t have to do the ‘meet the parents’ thing.” It’s sort of a joke, but kind of a very sad, not quite funny joke. 

“Yeah I guess. There’s still my sister, though, so.” 

“Ah, well, then I’ll keep my nervousness saved up for that then,” Steve sounds fond now, and Bucky grins. 

“Alright. Well, ask Sam and Sharon. I’ll let you know where we’re going when I actually know.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Okay. Bye Steve.” 

So on Saturday, Bucky takes a cab to a bar in Manhattan, the agreed meeting place, and tries not to get overly nervous. He did that already while getting ready, but luckily that had distracted him enough until he was ready to leave. When he winds his way through the bar, he spots Toro at the bar, and his nervousness peels away. They hug and exchange ‘how the hell are ya’s and grin like idiots and it’s great, it’s all great. Bucky would be lying if he said he didn’t used to think Toro was handsome as hell--and really, he is, all blue eyes and black hair--but now the familiarity of his face is just nice to see. 

They order drinks and move to a booth near the wall, and he texts everyone to tell them where he is. Toro knows he invited people, and it’s fine with him. He did better at the whole reintegrating thing, Bucky thinks, but Toro isn’t exactly done with the military yet.  

Anyway, they talk and drink for a while until Natasha and Leo get there, and introductions are made, more drinks are ordered, and Bucky is so glad he doesn’t have to work tomorrow. Just as they all sit down and get to talking, Bucky spies Steve through the crowd at the door, Sam in tow. He stands and weaves his way through people again, waving a hand above him so Steve sees, and he does, making his way to meet Bucky. Once they do, they stop in the middle of the room to kiss quickly, and embrace, before Steve introduces Sam and Bucky. 

“Nice to meet you man,” Bucky says with a smile, though it’s a little tense, as he shakes Sam’s hand. 

“You too,” Sam says, and is expression is sort of... cool. And alright, that makes sense, just meeting your best friend’s boyfriend. That’s fine, Bucky can work with that. 

“Just about everyone’s here, we’ve got a table and I think we’re just waiting on Clint,” Bucky tries to tell it to both Steve and Sam, hoping he’s made a good impression, “Could Sharon not make it?” He asks as he turns to head back to the table. 

“Nah, she’s got an internship downtown, and she works overtime on cases sometimes,” Steve hollers over the music, and Bucky nods, leaning in a bit to hear better.

“Next time,” he says, smiling over at Sam, who gives him a precursory smile. 

Bucky isn’t sure how this is going to go. 

When they get back to the table, introductions seem to last forever, and they come with about a thousand “nice to meet you”’s, then just as many handshakes. Bucky slides into the booth again, Toro to his left, Steve on his right (pressed up against his side), and Sam at the end of the seat on Steve’s right. There’s another round of drinks, and everyone starts talking and Bucky can’t really keep track of who and what and why, but he’s glad Steve’s there. He smiles down at him and steals a kiss. 

All in all, it’s pretty good. The groups rounded off when Clint gets there, and it’s pretty smooth from there on out. Bucky tries to split his time equally, tries not to leave Steve to talk to Nat and Leo and Sam and Clint as Bucky talks to Toro, but Toro’s the whole reason they’re here. And it ends up okay, they don’t really get sequestered into individual conversations too much, so that’s good. 

Or at least Bucky doesn’t think so; he can’t really remember between rounds of drinks. He remembers laughing a lot, so maybe the friend meeting thing is a success? Sam seems more amiable at some point, and it might take more than one night, but still. It’s good, as far as Bucky can tell. 

Eventually it gets late, and everyone agrees it’s time to go as one, which is fine, Bucky’s head is swimming and he’s glad he took a cab down here. They all manage to get through the crowd as one, and pick the space by the door to say goodbye. Toro claps Bucky on the back when they hug again, and it’s a little bittersweet, because it feels like he hasn’t seem Toro for forever, or for very long tonight, but such is the way of things. They agree to get together again soon, and Bucky lets him go, watches him head for the door. 

Saying goodbye to Nat, Clint, and Leo isn’t a huge deal, he just waves after they tell Steve how nice it was to finally meet him and the same for Sam. When everyone’s gone, Bucky turns to Steve and Sam, feeling a little awkward. 

“It was nice meeting you, finally,” Bucky laughs a bit, and Sam at least smiles as well, but so does Steve, “Hope my friends weren’t too obnoxious.” Sam reaches out to shake his hand again, as Bucky glances over at Steve. 

“Nah, not at all. At least not more than anyone else I know,” he chuckles a bit, and it’s always a relief when you can make someone you just met laugh, isn’t it. Bucky laughs a little too, and looks over at Steve again, feeling like he hasn’t all night or something. 

“Well that’s good. Next time I’ll go out with the rest of your crowd,” he loops an arm around the blond’s waist, pulls him close against his side. 

“Yeah alright, sounds good,” Sam gives him a nod, maybe a nod of half approval, “See you Monday Steve.” And that’s a bit of a surprise, because Bucky had thought Steve would be leaving with Sam. Not that he was complaining. 

“Alright,” Steve gives his friend a wave as he heads for the door, and Bucky looks down at him again. 

“Thought you’d go with Sam,” he says, and they make their way to the door as well. 

“Eh. I figured someone needed to see you home safe.” Steve grins up at him. 

“N’awww. Aren’t you sweet,” he chuckles, leaning in to press his lips to Steve’s temple as they push through the door into the cool summer night air. It sobers him up a little, though he’s still a bit uneasy on his feet, “Waddaya say we grab something to eat on our way home huh?” 

“Sure,” Steve says with a smile, and they hail a cab. 

Back in Brooklyn, they stop at a 24 hour place, and laugh at things here and there over burgers and fries. It’s a nice way to wrap up the night. Then they get back in a cab, sipping on their drinks, and Steve tells them they’re making one stop, then asks Bucky what his address is. That catches him a little off guard, but he stammers out his address to the cabby anyway, and looks over at Steve. 

“What? I’ve never been to your house. It’s late. I’m tired,” Steve explains with a subtle shrug of his shoulders, and again, Bucky smiles slowly. 

The cab ride gives him time to get a little nervous, and he goes over how he left the place, if there were plates or pans in the sink or if there was underwear on the floor of his bedroom or if he left a plate on the coffee table. But it’s almost three AM, so a lot of that doesn’t really matter. It’ll be dark, so maybe he can scurry around and pick things up before turning on all the lights. 

Of course, it’s not that bad, he finds, when they actually do get to his place, and he flicks on the kitchen and living room lights. His place is a small studio apartment, the kitchen just to the left of a little hallway leading from the door, then the living room beyond that, and on the opposite side was his “bedroom” and the bathroom, which was the only actual sectioned room in the place. It’s a decent home for him, suits his needs, and there’s even a little balcony off the living room where he sits and smokes sometimes.  

“Wow Bucky... this is nice,” Steve says as he wanders into the living room, which is about five feet away from Bucky’s bed. The brunette shrugs. 

“It’s alright. There’s a pool upstairs.” He’s not really sure why he threw that in there, but whatever. He toes off his shoes by the kitchen counter slash bar thing that serves as Bucky’s kitchen table, before he pads over to his bed, and perches on the edge. Steve goes to the balcony’s sliding glass door to look out, though theres not much a view. 

“I um... hope you don’t mind me inviting myself?” Steve smiles guiltily as he looks back at Bucky, and steps over to him. 

“Not at all,” Bucky grins back, because he really is glad Steve made that decision for him, for whatever reason he did. 

“I didn’t really want to leave, y’know,” Steve says quietly as he comes to sit next to him at the bed. 

“Yeah,” is all Bucky gives in reply as his eyes track over Steve’s face, just taking him in in the half light of the room. His eyes look so big in his face sometimes, his lips a little too full, but that probably just goes to show that he’s all the more beautiful for it. Bucky raises a hand to the blond’s cheek and leans in for a kiss, even though he probably tastes like vodka, or rum and coke. 

They kiss for a little while, but it doesn’t go much farther than that, because... well there really isn’t a reason, it’s just not where that goes. So while Bucky heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth and an Advil, Steve wanders into the kitchen for water, and probably another glance around Bucky’s apartment. 

When the brunette flips off the light in the washroom, it leaves his bedroom dark, save for the light coming in from the street, and that’s enough to silhouette Steve sitting on the bed. Bucky smiles in his general direction, before grabbing his shirt at the back of his neck, and tugging it off over his head almost absent mindedly. He does it because that’s how he sleeps, what he does every other night. Only the air seems to go out of the room this time, and when he looks down at Steve, the blond isn’t looking at his face. 

“Oh Bucky...” It’s little more than a sigh, and he moves across the bed toward Bucky, who is acutely aware of his shoulder. 

The remnants of the wound and resulting surgeries are ugly. Really ugly, and Bucky goes tense, shirt fisted in his right hand as he looks down at Steve. It’s the first time he’s really seeing it in full; the skin is shiny and pink, still in the long process of healing from skin grafts and metal rods that once held his whole arm into place for about three or four months. The end of his collarbone doesn’t poke out on the top of his shoulder like it does on the right side and there’s stark white dots from the stitches and staples, and Bucky thinks it’s hideous. 

He doesn’t know what to say, so he sort of looks away awkwardly, takes his shirt in his left hand and starts pulling it back on. 

“Wait - “ Steve almost sounds like he didn’t mean to say it, but Bucky looks at him again. The expression on Steve’s face is...sad? Sympathetic maybe? “I just... I’m sorry. I’ve never - “ He shakes his head. 

Bucky pauses for a long time as he stares down at the bedspread, trying to find something to say. “It’s um. Pretty ugly huh?” He tries for a smile, and Steve frowns, reaching out for Bucky. 

“No, Bucky, god not at all,” he sighs, scooting over the bed again, closer, “Come here.” He makes a small motion with his hand, and in halting movements, Bucky climbs into bed with Steve. The blond moves up close, sits right next to him pressed all along Bucky’s left side--so close to all the scarring. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, but eventually Steve brings a hand up to Bucky’s shoulder and touches the too-smooth skin of his scars. Bucky can’t feel any of it, because of the scar tissue and probably the nerve damage, but he turns his head to watch. 

“You just...” Steve murmurs, shaking his head, “You never talk about it. Your service, or anything and - I worry sometimes, you know? Like I know it’s been a while, and you seem alright, but - I don’t know. You know you can talk to me about anything, when you want to. ” 

Bucky’s eyes flicker up to Steve’s face, and he nods, “Yeah. I just um... it’s always been - “ His throat clicks when he swallows, mouth dry, and he pauses again, “Something you talk about with the therapist, you know,” he laughs a little again, humorless, “Or the doctor and I just leave it there. There’s a venn diagram in my head, and the ‘war’ circle doesn’t lapse with the ‘real life’ circle anywhere.” And he smiles, but again, there’s nothing particularly light-hearted about it. 

“Yeah,” Steve says simply as he leans in to press his lips to Bucky’s shoulder. It’s far too intimate a gesture, and Bucky trembles a little, but it’s something that Steve’s seen the wound now, and jesus, accepts it even, “If you don’t want to talk about it, I completely understand. You don’t have to, but I do want you to know that you can, if you want to,” he adds quietly, resting his chin delicately on Bucky’s shoulder. 

Gazing at the blond for a long, long time, Bucky quirked a slightly more genuine smile. “Thank you. I don’t um... I don’t know, I had a hard time with all of it up until like, not that long ago, so talking about it,” Bucky frowns, shakes his head, “isn’t the easiest? Or I don’t like doing it? I’ve dealt with all the crap, I’m pretty close to putting it behind me and I don’t like going back to that place I was when I came home, you know?” Steve nods, “So if - if I don’t, don’t be offended.” 

“Of course Bucky. I don’t - I didn’t mean - don’t feel obligated,” he laughs nervously, “If that’s how it is, that’s perfectly alright and I - I mean I don’t understand what it’s like, but I understand why you don’t want to talk about it. And that’s fine. That’s perfectly alright I just - “

Bucky shuts him up with a kiss, because they’ll just talk themselves in circles about this. 

Not long later they fall asleep curled together, Steve’s head on Bucky’s shoulder. 

In the morning Bucky makes breakfast and they sit close at the island, and maybe he tells Steve a thing or two. Steve tells him how much he admires Bucky for serving, and the little smile on his lips when he says it makes Bucky’s heart jump. So it’s two days of new things. 

Over the next few months, things change a bit. 

Steve gets an internship at an advertising company, so, while they don’t spend a lot less time together, Bucky definitely feels the absence in nights without Steve. It’s alright though, he’s so happy that Steve’s already found something so quickly after graduating that might actually turn into a job, and on Thursdays (that they normally spent together), Bucky drives into Manhattan to have lunch with his boyfriend. On some weeknights, they have dinner at each other’s places, or Steve comes to the cafe when Bucky closes, and sits behind the counter with him because there aren’t any customers that late usually. 

Weekends are pretty much dedicated to Steve, Nat points out none too happily. It’s not entirely true; they have a meeting of the friends again, this time with Sharon (who Leo tries to pick up on, and that fails miserably), and that’s fun. Bucky does spend time with Nat and Leo and Clint, really he does just... also with Steve. 

They go to a Yankees game, see movies, fool around on Bucky’s couch, on Steve’s, and the weather gets colder. They go to Central Park, and Bucky watches Steve draw. 

September passes like a dream, and late fall rolls in with cold gusts and that sort of odd Halloween feeling. Steve comes to see him one Friday right around the time he has his break (because Steve knows these things now), and Bucky tries not to look too obviously over the moon about that. 

Steve waits at a table near the counter where Bucky is basically obligated to be, in case any customers come in within the next four minutes till his break, but that doesn’t happen, so they talk until noon. Bucky gets an idea as he takes off his apron, and waves Steve behind the counter before they go to find Natasha. She’s in the back office going through some paperwork, as she usually is from time to time. 

“I’m going on break,” Bucky says, and Steve waves at her from the doorway to the office, “Mind if I borrow your keys?” Raising his eyebrows, Bucky grins and pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek because Steve can’t see, and Natasha raises an eyebrow. 

She stares at him for a while, then opens the drawer of her desk, and fishes around for the keys. “Not on any upholstery. Or anything that can stain,” she replies finally as she drops the keys into Bucky’s hand, and he grins like a kid in a candy store. He turns back to Steve and nods toward the very back of the office, where there’s either the stock room, or another door.

“Nat lives upstairs,” Bucky tells Steve quietly, with a smile of course, as he unlocks the door that leads to a flight of stairs. When he gets the door open, he holds it for Steve, and as the blond slips into the stairwell, Bucky winks back at Natasha who simply shakes her head. 

Upstairs, when Bucky gets the apartment door closed behind them, he drops the keys on the floor and presses Steve up against the wall, kissing him like there’s no tomorrow. Why, he’s not really sure, but it probably has something to do with how it feels when Steve comes to see him, comes just to see him. He doesn’t come for the coffee and bagels and scones anymore (although those are good too), he comes to his favorite cafe because Bucky’s there. Because he wants to see Bucky, which is still a little perplexing sometimes. Anyway, it starts there, and before long he drags Steve into the kitchen (adhering to Natasha’s “no upholstery” stipulation), hoists him up on the counter, and slips his hands under the hem of Steve’s shirt. 

For a while all they do is make out, slow and thorough and it’s great, but Bucky’s only got thirty minutes for his break, and he’s more than a little hard, so he goes for Steve’s belt. It makes the blond chuckle quietly into Bucky’s mouth, his hands brushing through Bucky’s hair. 

“If I knew we were going to do this I would have waited till you were off,” he says with a little smile, and Bucky looks at him with heavy lidded eyes. 

“Carpe diem and all that, right,” he replies and quirks a half smile, hands tugging gently at Steve by his hips until he slides down from the counter. When his feet hit the floor, Bucky slowly sinks to his knees, glancing up at Steve, who sucks in a quick gasp. 

“Right,” Steve murmurs in return, hand finding the other man’s hair again, and Bucky goes about sucking him off. 

Sex with Steve, or at least, as far as they’ve gone thus far, has been great. And that might even be a bit of an understatement, even though all of it thus far has been pretty tame. It probably has something to do with the fact that Bucky is head over heels for Steve, and would take just about anything he was given, or something about Steve’s nimble little hands. 

About halfway through, though, when Bucky’s a bit of a drooling mess and Steve is gripping the counter just to keep himself upright, he says something thats not quite out of the blue, but it definitely catches Bucky off guard. 

“Bucky,” he whimpers, fingers curling and uncurling in Bucky’s hair, “I want you - I want you inside of me.” 

And Bucky stops too abruptly, awkwardly. Pulls off, looks up at Steve, mouth hanging open, hand still around the base of the blond’s cock.

“... Right now?” He says stupidly, and Steve huffs something like a laugh. Or an exasperated sigh, both make sense. 

“Jeese Bucky - no - just... “ Biting his lip, Steve takes a deep breath, “I mean eventually. Soon. Not this second.” And yeah, theres a laugh in his voice, which is good. Bucky laughs at himself, and leans in to kiss the tip of Steve’s dick again. 

“Well I can do soon.” 

After all is said and done, and Steve returned the favor for Bucky, they sort of slump to the kitchen floor, and lay like that for a while, Bucky’s head in Steve’s lap.

“That sure is one way to spend my break...” He sighs, closing his eyes and savoring the feel of fingers carding through his hair, scraping over his scalp here and there. 

“Sure is,” Steve no doubt smiles, and Bucky does too. Curling his fingers into the soft fabric of the blond’s slacks, Bucky presses his face a bit harder against Steve’s thigh, and while they’re putting things out there--

“I love you,” he mutters, a few syllables lost against Steve’s pants, but he apparently gets the idea, because his hand stops its petting. It’s awkward, and probably the wrong time, but there it is. Can’t really take it back. Steve is... unfortunately silent, and Bucky shifts a little, because that scares him, and fuck you shouldn’t have said anything you’re a fucking idiot James--

“I love you too, Bucky,” Steve says eventually, and thank the fucking lord because Bucky was ready to dig up Natasha’s kitchen tile and bury himself under it just so he didn’t have to face the rejection. But of course Steve loves him back. Of course he does. Bucky sighs with relief and shifts a little, turning onto his side. 

“What time is it?” He mumbles, and goes to push himself up anyway, because it’s probably well past 12:30. He’s so lucky Natasha is his boss. 

“12:38,” Steve says, hand falling from Bucky’s hair as the other man sits up. Inhaling deeply, Bucky looks at Steve, expressionless, and tries to think of something to say. Probably apologize for the impromptu sex and general awkwardness, but his mind goes a little blank sometimes when he looks at Steve. The blond gives him an almost conspiratorial smile, and leans away from the cabinets he’s sitting against to kiss Bucky. It’s simple and quick, but it’s good. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says before he can stop himself, and watches Steve frown. 

“What? What for?” 

Bucky shakes his head. “I don’t know I - ... for being so awkward? I didn’t... it’s not that I didn’t mean to say it I just - ... didn’t mean to say it so out of the blue.” 

“There’s not really a right or wrong place or way to tell someone you love them Bucky,” Steve says, like it’s the most obvious fact in the world, and it probably is, but Bucky isn’t used to this sort of thing, “It wasn’t awkward.” His voice is a bit softer then, and his smile soft. 

“I feel stupid.” 

“Why?!” Steve sounds almost...offended, or something, but he’s still grinning, “Gosh Bucky, did you not hear me when I said I love you too? Because I do, I really really do, okay, and that’s not awkward. You, are not awkward. It’s fine.” 

Bucky presses his lips together and smiles a little. “I um... should probably get back downstairs?” He really, really doesn’t want to go back to work after all of this, and he briefly considers just locking the front door and hauling Steve over to Natasha’s bed. 

“Yeah,” Steve sounds reluctant too, and Bucky smiles as they both move to stand up. 

Downstairs, Bucky takes care to tuck Natasha’s keys back in her desk drawer, before saying his goodbyes to Steve (which is code for kissing him softly for a few more minutes, before Steve tells Bucky he’ll bring dinner by later). Then Steve tells the other man he loves him, and Bucky wonders if he’ll ever hear or feel anything again that makes him half as happy as that statement does. He’s leaning toward no. 

“Did you have sex in my apartment?” Natasha asks once Bucky returns to the front, watching as Steve rounds the counter and heads for the door. 

“Eh. Only a little bit?” Bucky grimaces a little, before glancing over at Natasha, only to be met with a glare, “Didn’t make a mess, I swear.” He can’t help but chuckle guiltily, and that earns him a super-glare. Natasha just clenches her jaw, and storms back to her office. 

The rest of that day passes in sort of a haze. Bucky is pretty sure he smiles at every customer, and then to himself in between so that he probably looks a little crazy, but he can’t really help it. And the afternoon is just a little odd, today has been odd as a whole, but in a good way. A great way, and he can’t wait to go home. He tears out of the cafe at 3, and it’s not like Steve will be there till dinner time anyway, but he’s still excited. Because he told Steve he loves him, and Steve loves him back, and everything is just peachy. 

They have dinner on Bucky’s couch that night, and it’s sickeningly sweet because between bites of sesame chicken Bucky can’t help but steal kisses from Steve. The blond laughs after each of them, and it’s just gross and sweet and really really good. Later they watch a movie, and Steve sketches lazily, doodling things for an assignment at the advertising place. When Bucky dozes off, Steve turns to a fresh page, and maps out the contours of Bucky’s face on paper. 

It takes another month for Bucky to work up to the whole “real sex with Steve” thing. Literally “work up to”; Bucky is terrified of being Steve’s first time, only because his first time wasn’t all that great (to which Steve tells him “You probably did it wrong.”) So, when they have sex, Bucky just uses his fingers to open Steve up, press against the places inside of him that make him gasp and writhe and make the most beautiful sounds, and honestly, if Bucky had to guess how angels sounded, it was like Steve. It’s a plus that he likes that much, and it makes Bucky dread the “first time” thing a lot less. 

On Halloween, they go out to a pub in Brooklyn because Bucky doesn’t want to bother with Manhattan on Halloween, Brooklyn will be crazy enough. They don’t dress up, even though Steve had called Bucky a spoilsport for that a few weeks before, but Bucky wasn’t even big on Halloween; everyone in his neighborhood tended to get obnoxious, and while he was all for being obnoxious, it was only from time to time. Whatever, the prospect of rowdy college kids just didn’t appeal to him all that much, which probably makes him sound like an old man at 24, but he feels a lot older than 24, so. 

Anyway, they go to a pub on Halloween for drinks, and a little something to eat. They sit at the end of the bar so they can keep to themselves, and it’s best that way; they can just lean close over their drinks and talk about the other people in the bar, their costumes, or lack thereof. It’s just a good way to spend a Saturday night when the weather is just about bitter cold, but dry, and just on the cusp of winter. Bucky sticks to whiskey, just to keep warm. 

After a few hours, they decide it’s probably time to get some real dinner, and then head home, so Steve goes to get them a cab as Bucky attempts to pay the tab. It takes a while, so eventually he just slaps a fifty down on the bar, and attempts to weasel his way through the packed crowd to get to the door. Once he does, he grabs his coat from the hanger near the windows, and glances out to see if Steve’s got a cab yet. There are a few of the yellow cars outside, but that isn’t what draws Bucky’s attention. As he turns up his collar, he notices some guy talking to Steve, but the blond is facing away from him, so he can’t really see what’s going on. He can tell when Steve says something, though, because he cocks his head to the side and shrugs, and though Bucky can’t really tell through the glass window, he can see that whatever was said, the guy doesn’t like it, because his face goes flat. He snaps something back at Steve, and that’s Bucky’s cue to get out there. 

He’s a little late though, because by the time he’s out the door, the taller guy is shoving Steve back, hard, way too hard. Bucky shoves a few people loitering outside, and he hears Steve’s voice, and the guy is taking a swing. How Steve managed to duck, Bucky had no idea because he’s not the most agile, nor athletic of people, but he does it anyway. Bucky doesn’t hesitate in grabbing the guy but the lapels of his jacket, shoving him back a little. 

“Something I can help you with, dumbass?” He barks, and the guy is a little taller than him too, but only by a few inches. The guy looks over Bucky’s shoulder, at Steve, obviously, then sizes up Bucky. There’s alcohol on his breath, so theres a good chance this isn’t going to be pretty. 

“That’s our cab your little friend grabbed,” the guy says, waving at one of the cabs, stepping in closer to Bucky, into his space. There are three parked up against the sidewalk. Bucky grimaces. 

“There are three fuckin taxi’s asshole, get another one. He didn’t do jack shit,” Bucky is so savagely angry, and suddenly, all because this guy pushed Steve. Even thinking about it makes his blood boil, he could kill this guy. 

“I’m the asshole?” The guy laughs, humorless, and swings at Bucky. Even though he thinks he lurches back, the guy’s fist still catches his nose, and he hopes to god it wasn’t a break he heard, but that’s definitely blood running down his top lip. Bucky is pretty sure Steve says something, but he doesn’t pay it any attention, instead grabbing the guy by the coat again, quick, then head-butts him. It definitely breaks the guys nose, and as he tries to stagger away, Bucky knees him in the balls just for good measure. 

“Bucky!!” Steve hollers, hands finally fisting in the brunette’s jacket to pull him back, before any of the guys friends come to his aid as well. Bucky stumbles back, attention shifting back to Steve and the searing pain in his face. 

Steve all but shoves him into one of the cabs as Bucky holds a hand up to his nose, trying to stem off the blood flow. “Christ Bucky what the hell! 519 Rainsborough please!” Steve shouts, half at Bucky, half at the cab driver who mutters about it, “Move - move your hand. Is it broken? Should we go to the hospital?!” He all but crawls into Bucky’s lap, pushing his hand away so he can inspect the damage.

“I don’t... think so,” Bucky manages to say, voice a little slurred and thick. As the cab pulls away from the curb, Steve pulls his shirt sleeve down and hurriedly wipes away what blood he can, before pressing his wrist against Bucky’s nose. 

“Why the hell did you do that I didn’t - I could’ve handled myself,” Steve stammered, staring up at Bucky through the dark of the cab and the lights passing by outside. Bucky smiles a little, keeping his head tipped back against the headrest. 

“‘t’s fine,” he mumbles, as an explanation, even if it isn’t much of one. Sighing somewhat indignantly, Steve moves his hand, leans in, and kisses Bucky on the lips quickly. 

A pretty worthless five minute cab ride later, Steve tosses some money over the front seat, and helps Bucky out of the cab like he’s been crippled. It makes the brunette smile, but he puts his arm around Steve’s narrow shoulders anyway, as they walk through the lobby of his apartment building. Upstairs he sniffs back a trickle of blood and pulls his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. He’s fine, really, his face is just throbbing now and blood is drying on his lip and chin and shirt, but it’s nothing an ice pack won’t fix. 

Inside, Steve all but drags him into the bathroom and pushes him down on the closed toilet seat, before peeling out of his jacket and tossing it in the general direction of the bedroom. He moves with purpose, his brow furrowed as he gets out a wash cloth and runs warm water over it, then goes about finding rubbing alcohol and cotton swabs from under the sink--which Bucky doesn’t really need, but he sits and watches anyway. 

“Steve I’m fine,” he says, voice still a little nasaly, “It’s not broken just - “ He waves a hand at the blood on his face, and Steve just picks up the washrag and comes to stand between Bucky’s knees. His boney fingers take Bucky’s chin in his hand to tilt it up, and he gently starts wiping the blood away. 

“Just shh,” Steve mutters, “You got this out of some misguided need to - protect me or - I don’t even know what - but - just. Shut up.” 

Bucky laughs softly, “Better you than me, baby.” He probably would have broken the guy’s windpipe if he’d hit Steve like this. Combat training and all. He’s still got it, even if his left hook isn’t as strong as it used to be. 

“Oh please, I could have handled it myself, in fact, I was handling it,” Steve says, eyes flickering to Bucky’s as he makes swipes with the washcloth, his touch gentler the closer he gets to Bucky’s nose, “I know you probably couldn’t guess, but I’ve been getting pushed around by guys like that since high school.” His voice lowers when he says that, and it makes something in Bucky ache, because yeah, that seems about right. 

“Well, not when I’m around. I think I’ve got like 50 pounds on you, Steve, I can probably throw a punch a hell of a lot harder than you c - “ He stops when Steve sticks the corner of the washcloth up his nose, gently, but it still fucking hurts. He winces, and Steve mutters a quiet apology. 

“It’s not about who can throw a punch,” he adds quietly, doing thing with the rag again, “And I get it - that you... want to protect me or whatever but. It’s fine. You don’t have to.” 

Bucky frowns up at him then snatches the washcloth from Steve’s hand. “What the hell kind of friend would I be if I didn’t look out for you at least once in a while, huh?” He reaches up and wraps an arm around Steve’s waist, pulling him close, “I get what you’re saying, I do. You’re a big boy now,” he makes a face at that, tries to scrunch his nose but forgets, and grimaces with the pain. He sniffs, “But um. He put hands on you, and that fuckin... I don’t know, but if he hit you like he hit be he’d be in the hospital. Because I love you, right, I really really love you, and I’d do just about anything for you, I’d get bones broken for you, y’know, before I let anyone hurt you.” 

Steve is quiet for a little while, staring down at Bucky, blue eyes tracking over the brunette’s face. After a few more moments, he raises a hand to the side of Bucky’s face. “Well. I’m an asthmatic with a heart arrhythmia, and my bones are probably brittle, but I’d get ‘em broken for you too, y’know. Cause I love you,” he says with a slow smile, and Bucky smiles too, even though his face hurts.  

“I think there are better ways of showing our uh. Affection for one another instead of getting beat up, y’know?” Bucky teases, and stands up. 

“Yeah. And I wasn’t done, Bucky,” Steve says as he takes back the wash cloth. Bucky drops his arm from the blond’s waist and moves around him. 

“It’s just a little blood. What I really need is that pack of peas in the freezer, if you really wanna help me out,” he tells Steve as he walks out into the bedroom, turning on the lamp on his bedside table before kicking off his shoes. Steve follows, turning off the bathroom light. 

“Alright,” he says, and wanders out to the kitchen. Bucky shrugs out of his jacket, snatches Steve’s off the floor, and goes to toss them both over the chair pushed up against the little desk under his window. He yawns, and that hurts too, but then Steve is back with the peas and a dishtowel, so Bucky flops down on the bed. Steve crawls up next to him, close against his side, before he carefully arranges the dishtowel, then the peas over Bucky’s nose. 

“Can you breathe?” He asks, a smile in his voice. Bucky smiles too, and look sidelong at Steve. 

“No,” he sighs, opening his mouth to breathe, “But it’s okay, it feels better like this. I’ll just mouth-breathe all gross for a while,” Steve laughs at that, and tries to hold the bag up a little so Bucky can breathe better, and it sort of works, “Thanks.” 

“Sure,” Steve smiles at him and leans down to press a kiss to Bucky’s temple. 

For a while they lay like that, mumbling things to one another until Bucky’s nose is numb and cold and the pain is distant. Bucky moves to sit up so he can take the peas back, get undressed and whatnot, but Steve pushes him back down, and takes the frozen packet of vegetables back to the kitchen. He comes back with a glass of water, and a couple aspirin, holding them out to Bucky as he stands at the edge of the bed. Sitting up, the brunette takes the glass and the pills, knocking them back after a quiet thank you. Meanwhile Steve is pulling off his soft grey sweater, and lately they’d been sleeping in all their clothes, pressed together under the blankets because it’s been cold and Bucky’s heating, incidentally, isn’t the best. 

So Bucky’s a bit surprised, but whatever. He sets the water on his nightstand, and when he sits up, Steve is digging around in his coat pocket. Bucky doesn’t pay it any mind, and reaches down to pull off his thick socks, and tosses them in the general direction of the laundry basket, before he sits up and starts on the buttons of his shirt. When he does, it turns his attention back to Steve, who is working at his belt a - 

There’s a condom between his teeth, and that catches Bucky a little off guard. He pretends it doesn’t, going on unbuttoning buttons. Steve stops moving, so Bucky glances up, and theres a little smile on Steve’s face, almost coy, secretive, and a little soft, and the condom is in his fingers. 

“Um,” Bucky mumbles stupidly, and that makes Steve grin, apparently. 

“Look I um... want to? Like I feel stupid saying I may have planned on tonight without telling you, and with your nose if you don’t it’s fine I just... wanted to let you know I want to. In the very near future,” Steve explains softly, and his cheeks flush just a little. Bucky sets his hands in his lap and smiles, unsure where to even begin. He tries not to blurt out “Jesus Christ Steve of course I want to, I’ve wanted to fuck you stupid for like a year, probably more,” and succeeds, pressing his lips together. 

“Sneaky,” he chuckles, reaching out to touch Steve’s hip, and the blond climbs onto the bed next to Bucky. Stretching up, he kisses Steve, gentle at first, so he doesn’t bump his nose or anything all that quickly, “‘Course I want to.” He pulls back enough to murmur it, before plucking the condom from Steve’s fingers, and kisses him again, deeper this time, licking into the blond’s mouth. Even Steve takes the kiss easy, gentle like it’s going to hurt Bucky, so Bucky presses up a bit more, one hand coming up to cup the back of the other man’s head as his tongue moves in slow, sweeping motions against Steve’s. 

The blond moves, slinging one leg over Bucky’s hips so he’s straddling him, and Steve’s hands move to the buttons on the other man’s shirt. Bucky lies back slowly, one hand on Steve’s nape, and the other laying against his ribs where his skin is warm, fingers slotting between the bones, because Steve is skinny as hell, and boney just about everywhere. Bucky likes it though, likes feeling all of the blond’s edges sticking into his side or his thigh or under his cheek. 

Steve pushes Bucky’s shirt open when he’s done with it, smooths his hand over the brunette’s chest where he’s firm and taut and a little scarred, over his pink nipples, just a little darker than his skin. Over the chain of his dog tags, briefly sliding over the tags themselves. Bucky lets him touch because he wants to take this slow and easy for the time being, and it’s good like that. He breaks the kiss, because okay, his face hurts a little, but he doesn’t really care; he’d rather look at Steve anyway. 

“‘s it hurt?” Steve asks, moving down a little to work open Bucky’s jeans with quick, practiced motions. Bucky licks his lips, taking his time to look over this skinny little creature, with his full mouth and flushing pale skin that’s dotted with birth marks, the light fuzz of pale hair on his arms, just above the hem of his pants. He’s beautiful, honestly, and how no one else seems to see that, no one else gawks at Steve for it, or really even notices, Bucky has no idea. He’d caught on for a moment in high school, even though all he’d seen of Steve was a scared little kid, Bucky can still see him like it was yesterday. Steve doesn’t look all that much different; just a bit taller, and not soft like he was when Bucky saw him in the locker room. He’s got muscle, just not much of it, but enough to twitch and strain under Bucky’s hands. 

“A little. It’s fine, um. Get - er... roll over,” he tells Steve, pushing up into a sitting position again, before Steve nods and moves off of Bucky to lay on the other side of the bed. Bucky stands, pushes out of his shirt and jeans and boxers (because foreplay as well and great, but he’d rather spend it working Steve open, or just getting him undressed), then walks around to the other side of the bed, because that bedside table is where he keeps his stuff. It’s awkward, because he’s sporting a half hard-on, but whatever, he’s more self conscious about his shoulder than his nudity. 

From the lefthand bedside table, Bucky fishes out their half-empty bottle of lube, and joins Steve on the bed again, tossing the little bottle on the pillows. Steve gives him a smile as Bucky moves over him, leans down to kiss him, slow and just this side of filthy this time. He can feel Steve smiling into it a bit, then a hand is sliding back into Bucky’s hair and gripping gently. Bucky lets his hands drift, fingertips skimming down Steve’s chest and stomach, straight down to the button and zip of his pants. As he unbuttons those, Bucky withdraws from the kiss again, and this time Steve makes a soft, mournful sound that makes Bucky grin. 

“Relax,” he teases, pressing his lips to the thin, elegant curve of Steve’s neck where his skin is softer than it has any right to be, and purples so easily. Bucky is gentle, giving Steve light nips down the column of his throat, until he reaches the base of it, where he starts sucking a mark. 

“I am relaxed,” Steve says, and it’s not quite indignant, but Bucky smiles against the blond’s skin anyway. He tracks a path downward with wet, slow kisses, till he reaches Steve’s chest, where Bucky can hear his breathing coming in a bit harder. Once, when they’d been having sex, Steve had an asthma attack, and that too was motivation enough to take this slowly as well. Plus it’s just nicer that way, he can take his time and really feel Steve until both of them are too ready. 

Bucky rakes his teeth over one of Steve’s hardened nipples, which earns him a quiet gasp, and a hand in his hair again. It’s like Steve always needs something to hold on to. From there, Bucky continues his path south, stopping every once in a while to make sure his lips are wet, before leaning in to touch them to the blond’s skin. Curling his hands under the hem of Steve’s pants at his hips, Bucky glances up at him, and sits back a bit. 

“Up,” he saids, tugging lightly at Steve’s trousers, and of course the blond plants his feet and arches so Bucky can pull the article of clothing off of him. With them off, Bucky doesn’t really care where he tosses them after they’re out of his hands. He sighs at the sight of Steve, and runs his hands over the blond’s thighs, squeezing slightly as he smiled up at Steve. 

“What?” Steve asks, squirming a little closer to Bucky. 

“Nothing. Like looking at you,” The brunette smiles and smoothes his hands up to Steve’s hips, lowering himself between the other man’s legs again. His fingers curl in the elastic of Steve’s briefs, and he dips low, brushing his damp lips over the little trail of coarse blond hair that leads down under the hem of his underwear. Bucky wants badly to just bury his face against Steve’s skin, inhale his clean, sharp scent, but knows it’d just hurt like a motherfucker, so he settles on tasting instead. He runs the tip of his tongue down along the thin trail of hair, pulling at Steve’s briefs with his hands as he goes, but stops just short of his slowly filling cock. 

Steve lets out a sigh, and Bucky glances up at him as he shifts back a little, hand coming up to squeeze Steve through his briefs gently, which gets him a better reaction. Smiling up at Steve, Bucky drops his head again, lips parted for the tip of the blond’s clothed cock, where his tongue darts out and his lips press. He mouths at Steve’s cock, getting the fabric of his underwear damp and a little hot so it drags against Steve’s sensitive skin if he moves. Bucky slides his mouth down a bit, pressing dirty, open-mouthed kisses to the blond’s cock, and Steve isn’t so much making sounds as he is breathing erratically, and squirming slightly. 

Inhaling deeply--and he can still smell Steve a little, like laundry detergent and male and sex--Bucky decides he’s not up for teasing right now any more than Steve is. He hooks his fingers in the other man’s briefs again and tugs, and Steve arches again so Bucky can get them off in one smooth motion. Those get discarded just as carelessly as Steve’s pants had, and Bucky looks the blond over again, his flushed cock curving up toward his belly and his sac drawn up a bit. 

“Hand me the lube,” Bucky says, and takes Steve ankle in his hand (and god he’s skinny, it’s so - just -), kisses the inside of it, before shifting forward on his knees, and guiding Steve’s leg around his waist. Steve bumps the little tube of slick against Bucky’s arm, because he’s not paying attention, he’s looking down at where the smaller man is exposed to him, but he takes it in his hand. He feels Steve watching him, and lifts his eyes as he opens the cap, and squeezes out a bit of lube onto his fingers, “What?” He asks with a slow smile. Steve shrugs against the bed, brushes a hand over his cock. 

“Nothing I just - “ He shakes his head and pushes himself up on his elbows so when he reaches out, his fingers skim down Bucky’s stomach, “Is it dumb to say I’m excited?” The smile he gives is unadulterated and brilliant, and makes Bucky grin in return, so easy it’s almost like it’s an involuntary reaction. Then again most of him responding to Steve is, anymore. 

“Not at all,” Bucky says, tossing the lube to the side, and leans forward, planting his free hand on the bed, so his face is near Steve’s , “I’m gonna make it good for you,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over Steve’s in a quick, soft kiss, “Lay back.” 

As Steve eases himself back to the pillows again, Bucky follows, lips pressed against the blond’s in a firmer, more distracting kiss as he moves his hand down to the cleft of Steve’s ass. They’ve done this bit before, and he first time was a little rocky, but after that Steve seemed to relax quicker, let Bucky take his time stretching him open. So when Bucky pushes in with one finger, and then another, Steve tenses for a moment, then just breathes out a sigh, forcing his muscles to go lax, give way to the intrusion. Bucky pulls away from the kiss, half to watch Steve, half because his heartbeat is throbbing in the bridge of his nose painfully, and not to mention his stiff cock. He lets out a sigh and keeps his lips parted as he shifts to lay down on his side, his stomach pressed up against Steve’s side.

 Gradually, he rocks his fingers into Steve’s hole, fucking him a little first, just because he can. Bucky leans forward to press his lips against the blond’s shoulder, before looking up to watch his face again. When Bucky curls his fingers a little, Steve eyes snap shut and he moans softly, back arching just a bit. It pushes him down on Bucky’s fingers, too. 

“Don’t -  not - not yet - “ He stammers, because Steve isn’t very good at using his words during sex. It makes Bucky grin, just a little, “I don’t - wanna come yet,” he manages, and even smiles faintly, so Bucky curls and presses again, till it disappears, “Bucky,” Steve whines, and oh yes--

“You’d loosen up better that way,” Bucky teases, leaning in to say it against Steve’s ear, give the shell of it a little graze with his teeth. Steve shudders, “Maybe next time,” Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek, bumps his nose, and holds back a pained grunt. Steve opens his eyes to look up at Bucky, “‘t’s fine,” he says quickly, before Steve can even ask, and the blond just nods, breathing out a heavy sigh as Bucky’s fingers work inside him. 

Bucky takes his time, twisting and spreading his fingers inside ever so slightly, till he feels Steve’s muscles relax enough for him to move on to a third finger. He bites his lip for that, eyes glued on Steve’s face and trained for any sign of discomfort, because jesus he really is terrified of hurting him instead of making this as good as he had promised. But Steve takes it with quiet gasps and sighs, his muscles tensing and relaxing here and there as he’s stretched open. Feeling how tight the blond is around his fingers alone had Bucky achingly hard and leaking against Steve’s hip. 

And already he’s thinking about next time--hell, maybe even tomorrow morning--about using his tongue along side his fingers, and a thousand other things that make him just that much harder, which isn’t the best. 

Bucky sort of looses time like that, thinking, while his lips stutter over Steve’s skin here and there, kissing and mouthing senselessly, even though his fingers still work the blond’s hole open. When Steve’s hand comes up to grip his wrist lightly, Bucky breaks out of the half-haze he was in, and looks at the other man. 

“I’m - ready I’m fine,” he whispers, voice a little ragged by now, and Bucky licks his lip and nods, slowly pulling his fingers free. 

“Breathe,” he tells Steve, and gives him a quick kiss, before he moves between Steve’s legs. He snatches the condom off the bed, tears it a little with his teeth, and takes it out carefully--and again Steve’s hand is on his wrist. 

“Let me,” he breathes, as he sits up on an elbow, then takes the condom from Bucky. Who is completely on board with that, and just holds his hands up stupidly, and looks down at his cock as Steve sits up a little more, and rolls it on. Just the few passes of those spindly little artist’s fingers have Bucky’s eyelids falling shut as his mouth falls open around a moan. Steve looks up at him, the hints of a smile on his face,  and leans forward to press a kiss to Bucky’s stomach, like a go-ahead. Again Bucky’s brought back to himself in time to watch Steve lay back again, and spread his legs slightly, which makes Bucky shiver. He grabs the lube from where he’d dropped it, slicks his cock liberally, and moves forward to brace himself with one hand pressed into the mattress. 

“Tell me if it hurts, I’ll stop, alright?” He says finally, just one more reassurance, as if he hadn’t told Steve as much a thousand times already. Steve just nods quickly, biting at his lips a little as he wrapped his legs high around Bucky’s waist as encouragement. Inhaling deeply, Bucky wrapped a hand around his cock, guiding himself as his hips shifted forward, and he pressed against the tight ring of Steve’s entrance. As he had with everything else, Bucky went slow, carefully pushing the head of his cock into Steve’s body, until the initial resistance gave way for him. When he slipped inside, he breathed out a short breath, and glanced up at Steve as he hooked an arm around the back of the blond’s knee, opening him up a bit more as Bucky leaned over him a bit. 

Clamping his bottom lip between his teeth again, Bucky shifted his hips again, pressing inside deeper, inch by gradual inch. Steve was hot and tight around him, tighter than he had any fucking right to be, and Bucky had to hold back the low groan that was bubbling up in his chest the deeper he sank into Steve’s body. It happened easily, for however slow it did, but within moments Bucky’s hips were flush with Steve’s ass, and he was looking up at the blond again. Who didn’t seem to be breathing

“Steve,” Bucky said, though his voice was pretty rough, something just above a whisper. Steve’s lips fell open and he sighed a little licking his lips as his fingers tightened against Bucky’s side. 

“‘m fine,” he breathed, giving Bucky another little nod, “It’s okay.” 

Bucky nodded and sighed, moving to rest on his elbows, get a little closer to Steve. Before moving his hips a fraction of an inch, Bucky leaned down to kiss Steve, easy and gentle, though he wanted far more than that. Steve shuddered against him slightly, and his hands moved, smoothing unsteadily over the brunette’s chest and shoulders, where he clung, his fingers digging in against muscle and bone and scar tissue. Then, Bucky pulled out slowly, nearly all the way, and pressed in again. A moan rolled out of him unbidden then, though it was muffled against Steve’s lips, and the blond makes a sound in return, but Bucky can’t tell what sort. He pulls away then, because he wants to hear those noises, wants to hear what Steve has to give him, and his hips roll again, back, then in--

“Fuck, Steve...” Bucky groans, head dropping a little, and he has to kiss Steve again, or else he’ll probably start babbling, telling Steve how fucking tight he is and how good he feels, and why not, right, but Bucky doesn’t want to overwhelm him. 

When he starts up a slow, but steady rhythm, Steve squirms under him, making soft noises as he reaches a hand down to where his cock has gone a little soft to stroke himself. Bucky breaks away from the kiss again, panting and licking his lips, to look down between them, a soft ‘oh’ escaping him. He reaches down, pushes Steve’s hand away and takes the blond’s cock in hand to touch Steve himself, works him the way Bucky knows he likes. Thumbing over the head of Steve’s cock gets Bucky a louder whimper, something close to a moan, but softer, broken, but Bucky counts it as a success, and smiles. 

“Good?” He asks, breathless, and the fact that Steve is getting steadily harder in his palm gives Bucky a bout of confidence. He begins to snap his hips a little faster, because he can’t really help it, Steve feels too good around him, clenching, gripping heat, but matches his rhythm where his hand is wrapped around Steve. 

“Nnnh...yeah...” Steve breathes, voice wilting into a bit of a moan, and Bucky answers it with one of his own, pressing deep into the other man.

Bucky hasn’t had... fantastic amounts of sex in his life, but he likes to think he’s had a decent amount. Decent enough to judge that out of the sex he has had, sex with Steve is probably the best, and this, right here, is as good as it gets. Which is something, because this stuff only happens in movies, right? Falling in love and having great, great sex, or maybe it does happen, but Bucky just... hasn’t thought so up until now, because really, does this stuff actually happen to people like Bucky? Steve, sure, he could see that, but never for himself. 

But then it is happening, and while Bucky doesn’t last as long as he would have hoped, the orgasm is just a little short of shattering. He thrusts into Steve with quick, measured strokes, still afraid of hurting the blond, but past the point he thinks he will. And Steve is just as responsive to it, his slim body moving where Bucky’s hands guided him, pulling him closer, stroked him reverently. He gives a last thrust and buries himself to the hilt inside of Steve, the rest of his body going tense and still and a few last moans fall from his lips. His hips stutter through the aftershocks, and once those are past, he slumps, tries not to collapse on Steve, but ends up doing that anyway. The blond lets out a little sigh, rests his hands on Bucky’s waist again and turns his head toward Bucky a bit, till his lips brush the brunette’s ear. 

Bucky doesn’t take long to recover, and when he does, he remembers that Steve hasn’t come, which totally makes sense and is fine. Only then does Bucky feel like he’s returned to his body, does he push himself up and off of Steve, then slowly, slowly sit back till he pulls free of Steve’s body, his warmth. It makes him sigh, and Steve gives a little sound, frowning as he licks his lips before he looks up at Bucky. First times aren’t awesome, but at least he’s not completely soft, so Bucky kisses and bites his way down Steve’s chest and stomach, making sure to leave little purpling marks here and there. Steve’s breathing is still coming in a bit quicker than it normally does, and when Bucky’s lips wrap around his cock, he gasps quietly, legs shifting against the bed for purchase. 

When Bucky sucks him off, Steve’s fingers are tight in the brunette’s hair, and it’s quick, so the sounds he makes spiral higher and louder the closer he gets. It’s wonderful, really, hearing those sounds (it always is) and feeling Steve try and move, like he wants to get closer, or pull against the grip Bucky has on his hips. And when he comes, he goes quiet and still, and Bucky just swallows quickly, running his hands over Steve’s thighs. 

Pulling back, he licks his lips and takes a second to look at Steve, shoot him a smile before he gets off the bed to pull the condom off, tie it, and tosses it in the waste bin in his bathroom. He flips on the light, and when the light spills out into the bedroom and onto the bed, Bucky stands in the doorway to look at Steve, who is turned over onto his side just a little. 

“You up for a shower?” Bucky asks, voice quiet. Steve sighs and rolls over a bit more, looking up at Bucky as he does. 

“Sure,” he replies, and gets up slowly. There’s not quite a hitch in his step, but his gait is a little....effected.  Bucky tries not to smile as he turns back into the bathroom to turn on the shower, but can’t really help himself. 

He runs the shower pretty warm, and waits till Steve gingerly steps in to get in himself. Then, he wraps Steve up in his arms so they’re both under the stream of water, keeps him close just because it feels better that way. He lets Steve go only long enough to run a lathered bar of soap over Steve’s skin, and then to kiss over his shoulders, neck, and chest when they stand under the stream for a bit longer, till their skin is pink. 

And of course Bucky asks if Steve hurts at all, even a little bit, and he says it feels a little odd, but it doesn’t particularly hurt--yet. Bucky tells him it might in the morning, but he doesn’t have physical therapy or work or anything tomorrow, so they’re fine to just stay in bed as long as they want, which sounds absolutely perfect to Bucky. Steve grins up at him and agrees. 

When the water runs a little cold, they step out of the shower and towel off. Steve looks as sleepy as Bucky feels, so neither of them bother with any sort of clothing; they just fall into bed, tug the covers up, and tangle together like they always do, Steve draped over Bucky’s chest. He plays with Bucky’s dog tags, turning them over in his fingers, memorizing the serial number and blood type. 

“Do you want one?” Bucky murmurs into Steve’s hair as he watches the blond’s fingers move over the plates of metal. He’s got two; one to wear and one to put on his gear, but obviously he doesn’t need one. Hell, he doesn’t need either of them, but he’s never not worn them, since getting the set.

“Don’t you need them?” Steve asks, turning his head to look up at Bucky, his chin on the other man’s chest.

“No,” Bucky says with a laugh, brushing his fingers over the shell of Steve’s ear, and down the side of his neck, “No that’s... I want you to have one, I’m done needing ‘em, really. I mean I guess it’s nice I have my blood type on there in case I ever, I don’t know, crash my bike and bleed out on the bridge or something - “

“Shut up,” Steve laughs, but he doesn’t find it all that funny. 

“Or if I get beat up by some dude outside of a bar,” Bucky grins, and Steve slaps his chest lightly. 

“You’re not funny,” Steve grouses, though he smiles subtly, and looks down at the tags again. Bucky’s chuckles dies off slowly, and he sighs softly, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. The blond closes his eyes briefly, leaning into the touch. 

“Still. You should take one. I want you to,” Bucky sits up a little, and reaches back to pull the chain off of his neck. He kept his other arm around Steve, but still opens the clasp on the chain, and lets one of the tags slip from it into his palm, “And anyway, you were the one who said that there were better ways to show affection.” He says it with a wide grin, and he holds the tag out to Steve, who looks at it for a moment. 

“Yeah okay,” he murmurs, takes the little piece of metal, and shifts up to kiss Bucky.