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There was sunlight through the blinds when Steve woke up. Muzzy with sleep, he wondered if Bucky had turned the alarm off. One morning sleeping in hurt no one, so Steve rolled over and reached for Bucky, determined to enjoy it.
His hand found only empty sheets. The entire room was empty, in fact. Pausing long enough to stretch, Steve crawled out of bed in search of Bucky.
The minute he opened the door, he was met with the aroma of coffee and sizzling bacon. It was a surprise, but his growling stomach suggested it was a welcome one. He padded down the hall and through the living room to the kitchen.
“You’re cooking.” Steve stood in the doorway, watching Bucky tending to the stove top. He was lovely like this, clad only in pajama pants that clung, just barely, to his hip bones. Bucky glanced over his shoulder, and though he must have been up for a while, his expression was still soft and his hair was mussed from sleep.
Bucky’s mouth tilted in an amused smile. “Congratulations on noticing the obvious. Give the man a medal.”
“Obviously you're cooking. I meant what’s the occasion?” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and ambled over to the coffee maker, but Bucky was one step ahead of him. Maybe five steps ahead of him judging by the bacon sizzling in the skillet. Either way, he hadn’t even made it to the counter before Bucky was pressing a cup of coffee into his hands, dressed up just the way he liked it.
“You put away the pans,” Bucky replied, nudging companionably against Steve. “I thought it might be a suggestion that we actually do some cooking.”
Steve chuckled, leaning in to kiss Bucky’s cheek. “I was just sick of the box being on the table.”
“Well shoot, if that’s all it was…” Bucky made a show of setting the spatula aside on the trivet (that had finally made its way to the stove top). “I guess there’s no point in finishing.”
"I think that only works before the bacon is in the pan," Steve teased.
"A situation that is easily rectified." Bucky wiggled his metal fingers at Steve before reaching for the pan like he meant to pull the strips of bacon out.
"Oh my god. Stop." Steve squawked, setting his mug back on the counter. He was laughing as he grabbed Bucky's wrist, even more so when Bucky used the momentum as an excuse to press close and steal a kiss. "You're impossible."
"Again with the obvious." Bucky lingered, nose crinkling in amusement. "Besides, you love me."
"Ehhhhhhh," Steve hedged, trying and failing to keep his expression neutral. "Maybe a little."
Steve had expected Bucky to respond. He’d expected sass of some sort, but what he got instead was Bucky’s mouth hovering over his neck, breath coming in warm, tantalizing puffs. What he got was Bucky’s hands skimming his bare flanks, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his pajama pants.
By the time Bucky’s teeth scraped against the crest of his shoulder, Steve was well and truly had. He gripped the counter, eyes rolling back as Bucky pressed close enough that Steve could feel every line of his body.
“Bucky…” Steve breathed out, his free hand curling around Bucky’s back in search of an anchor.
Only, he never found one. Bucky was out of reach as abruptly as he’d been in it. He picked up the spatula to turn the bacon, grinning wickedly. “Sorry. That’s all ‘Maybe a little’ gets you.”
"That's just mean," Steve countered, not that he meant to leave it at that. Deftly, Steve hooked an arm around Bucky, drawing him in for a kiss. Bucky went easily, smirking into it, though the expression was short lived. The smile his mouth had curved into melted away into a low whimper as Steve nudged Bucky's lips apart with his.
When Steve pulled back, Bucky followed, pressing into his embrace. Bucky’s voice was low and a little rough. “Seems like more than ‘maybe a little’.”
“And you give me guff for stating the obvious,” Steve teased, leaning in for another kiss. His arms wound easily around Bucky, fingertips dragging up the divot of his spine. Bucky shuddered as if Steve’s touch was electric.
Bucky’s mouth opened in an implicit invitation, and Steve was quick to take any quarter he was given. His tongue curled against Bucky’s to the tune of a shaky, hiccupped breath. If he hadn’t been so occupied, Steve might have laughed when he heard the clatter of the plastic spatula hitting the linoleum under their feet.
As it was, he couldn’t bring himself to laugh at anything at all. Not when Bucky’s mismatched hands were cradling the knobs of his hips. Definitely not when flesh and metal thumbs dragged just beneath the waist of his boxers, caressing the hollows of his hips. Steve urged Bucky on, clutching at his back with one hand, the fingers of the other curling in long, dark strands of hair.
When Bucky dawdled, Steve moved on instinct, using his weight to steer his partner against the wall. Bucky hit with a soft, amused ‘oof’, fingers digging roughly into the curve of Steve’s rear. He tilted his head when Steve broke off their kisses, already offering the column of his neck up. There was no version of events where Steve could ever resist the sounds Bucky made at the press of teeth against his throat.
If Steve hadn’t been so distracted, he might have paid more attention to the pan on the stove, but hardly anything existed beyond Bucky, pliant and lovely in his arms. He was halfway down the side of Bucky’s neck, reveling in soft sighs and whimpers when the whole thing was interrupted by the smoke alarm.
The bacon was long past salvaging, brittle and ashy in the pan, not that you could see it under the smoky evidence that the grease had gotten much too hot. To Bucky’s credit, even dizzy with want, he moved quickly, pulling the pan off the burner while Steve shut off the alarm.
“Well,” Bucky murmured, chuckling at the mess of splattered grease on the stove. “I guess we’re going out for breakfast after all.”