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It’s a cold night, especially for September. Steve wasn’t expecting it to get this cold just yet. He thought he had more time. More time to sleep in just in underwear and not the flannel pyjamas his mother had purchased for him years ago. He hates sleeping in socks but no matter how much Steve curls his toes right now, he cannot get them to warm up. So socks it is. He refuses to put anything else on.
This wouldn’t be a problem if Bucky was here.
If Bucky was here he could just press himself to Bucky’s back – or front – and share body heat until he was warm enough to fall asleep. But Bucky’s not here and Steve knows that beyond the fact that the bed is cold. He knows it because he can feel the twist in his stomach at the image of Bucky out at another bar dancing with every pretty dame in the room.
It’s almost 2am Steve guesses, he’s been in bed for four hours – not wanting to stare at the blank paper in his sketchbook any longer – and has been regretting his decision not to go out for 7 hours. Since the front door rattled shut with Bucky’s departure.
Steve cuddles further into his pillow. His thin fingers tangled in the sheet that's pulled up to his chin, when he hears Bucky's stumbling footsteps outside their dingy old apartment. He doesn't want to think about where Bucky's been. Steve knows of course. But that doesn't mean the heavy pit in his stomach eases up. If anything, he feels worse.
There's a grumble and a groan as Bucky walks into something and then the bedroom door opens with a squeak – they should fix that – and Steve shuts his eyes tightly. He doesn't want Bucky to know that he’s waited up for him. He wishes he could have fallen asleep hours ago but he just couldn’t stop the niggling in his mind about Bucky.
He holds his breath as Bucky sits on the bed behind him, hearing his grunts as he throws his shoes to different corners of the room. He always was messy, even when they were kids. It’s something Steve’s come to live with, just another tiny thing about Bucky that he knows, another thing he loves. He makes a mental note to tell Bucky to tidy up in the morning.
He feels an unexpected hand on his shoulder and seizes up; his grip on the sheet tightens.
“Steve, y'awake?” Bucky whispers, his throat a little gruff from alcohol. He doesn’t move his hand until he’s sure Steve’s asleep. Steve tries to keep his breathing even until Bucky moves away and struggles out of his suit. He hears the fabric hit the floor softly and then the clunk of Bucky’s belt.
The mattress squeaks and groans as Bucky climbs under the covers. He hears Bucky let out a shiver and a sigh as he tries to get comfortable. Bucky turns on his side slowly and suddenly Steve can feel his breath on the back of his neck.
“Wish y'woulda come out with me tonight, Stevie.” He mumbles between them, “Probably woulda been more fun.”
There’s a sadness to his voice that makes Steve’s chest ache but he keeps his breathing even and waits for Bucky to fall asleep. Steve’s estimation on how much Bucky has drunk tonight means he should fall asleep fairly quickly. Usually when Bucky drinks he’s loud and clumsy but as soon as his head hits a pillow he’s out like a light. But not this time. Bucky continues talking to his back. “I hate when y’ don’t come out with me…s'no fun without you.”
There’s a warm hand pressed gently to Steve’s thin back and Steve has to hold in the shiver that’s starting at the back of his neck. Bucky can probably feel every notch of his spine. Steve wishes he’d put on his undershirt right now because the feeling of Bucky’s rough hand touching his skin sent a warm trickle of feeling down to his abdomen. A feeling he didn’t want to like.
“Rather y’ be there with me, means I don’t hafta drink so much.” Steve almost turns his head, confused but Bucky continues to ramble, “Cause then ya there and…” He huffs and Steve shivers at the air on his neck but Bucky doesn’t seem to notice, “Sometimes…when I’m with a girl, dancing, kissing…”
The bed dips and Steve knows Bucky’s right behind him, the hand on his back moves to his waist. Steve feels it in his abdomen. He doesn’t want to know about when Buck’s with a girl. That’s why he’s still awake. All he thinks about is that Bucky’s with a girl and not…God. He wants to curl up and bury his face. Hide at the thoughts that run through his head.
“It’s wrong…” Bucky’s voice is muffled and Steve hears the scratch of his stubble against the pillow case. Steve wants to ask, ‘What’s wrong? I don’t understand.’ But he just concentrates on Bucky’s low voice and the strong hand on his waist.
“You don’t…damn it. You’re not like that, and sometimes… I wish you were.” His voice cracks and Bucky’s hand slips around his waist. Steve is on the edge of turning to face him now, he has so many questions. Bucky’s making no sense and he wants to know what he means.
“But I don’t want you to be this way… y’get into enough fights as it is.” There’s a smile in his voice but it still pinches Steve’s chest. Bucky pulls himself closer to Steve, his chest pressed to Steve’s back and he buries his face into Steve’s hair, inhaling, “You’ve ruined me, Stevie.”
He presses his lips to Steve’s hair and Steve freezes. This is his only chance, Steve thinks. If he turns now, alerts Bucky to the fact he’s awake, then maybe… But Bucky has already shuffled away. One hand coming up to stroke the back of Steve’s hair before the sheet gets pulled up. Steve braces himself to turn over, to face Bucky. He steels himself, he can do this.
He turns quickly, expecting to see Bucky’s pale eyes. But Bucky’s mouth is pressed open by the pillow, eyes shut and breathing softly. Steve feels his heart plummet and his brow furrows. Too late. Always too late. He moves his hand up brush a strand of dark hair from Bucky’s forehead and Bucky rubs his face into the pillow, licking his lips before settling again.
He looks so beautiful, Steve thinks. He thinks about everything Bucky said; wanting Steve to go out with him, what he isn’t like that Bucky seems to think is so wrong. Although, Steve can guess as to what it might be, which makes his chest ache even more at the fact he missed his opportunity. Steve’s eyes trace the lines of Bucky’s face and then he closes his eyes; thinking of the plump curve of Bucky’s lips. He can feel the heat from Bucky’s body and he falls asleep. Regret on his mind.
Bucky’s eyes open minutes later and he stares at Steve’s thin face, the floppy blond hair that covers his forehead and the prominent collarbones that tell Bucky he needs to buy some more food soon. He wants to sigh. He wants to shout about how it’s not fair. He wants to grab Steve’s face and press their lips together.
Instead he lies there, hand on the bed between their bodies until Steve starts to shiver. He wraps his arms around Steve, pulling him into his chest, tucking his head underneath his chin. Steve relaxes as soon as they touch and burrows his face into Bucky’s neck. This is enough, Bucky thinks. This is enough.