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Sunlight drapes itself along the bed and floor, up the wall. It casts light upon Steve’s face, and Bucky can’t stop staring.
It is not unlike anything ethereal, the way it causes curled shadows to bloom across Steve’s cheekbones from his eyelashes. As much disinterest as Bucky had in religion (always the one squirming on the pew, bored and ready to go home) he thinks maybe this could be his. What it felt to have faith, and to effortlessly believe and worship something.
Bucky thinks with a smirk, well his hair does look like a halo, stuck out in each and every way, glowing golden in the sunshine.
People tend to think that Steve orbits around Bucky, loyal as a golden retriever, but it was more so true the other way around. The way Bucky would follow Steve anywhere, into war, into fights, into love and into death. The way Bucky would itch if he hadn’t talked or seen or touched Steve in a while. Steve is practically the sun, brighter than anything Bucky had ever seen, and though he didn’t burn to touch or get near, it always filled Bucky with indescribable warmth. If he did burn to touch or look at, Bucky isn’t sure if he’d be able to stop anyway.
The way Steve awakens reminds Bucky of a blooming flower, and he can’t hold back the smile that stretches across his face when Steve’s eyes flutter open, his eyes a shade of blue Bucky wishes he could paint the walls with. This kind of peaceful morning is far and few inbetween, and Bucky couldn’t help but bask in it.
“Mornin’ Buck” he rumbles, squinting before ducking closer to the middle of the bed, outside of the bright sunlight and closer to Bucky.
“Your breath reeks”
“Fuck off” he laughs as he shoves Bucky over, causing him to fall onto his back, against the pillows. He plants his hands on either side of Bucky's head, half draped over him, before leaning in close.
Bucky can feel his heart beating faster than a rabbit's.
Steve breathes heavily into Bucky’s face.
“Oh my god, you fucking punk, get off”
And Steve does. rolling over Bucky like an ass, and out of bed, wandering to the closet to pull on a shirt and some sweats. Bucky drapes his metal arm over his face, to ,hopefully, cool down his heated cheeks.
“How does some pancakes sound? With berries in them?”
“That sounds amazing” he mumbles, muffled.
Steve smiles brightly, taking off to the kitchen, Leaving Bucky alone to his thoughts and cold sheets. He turns and buries his nose into Steve’s pillow, pulling up the blankets and getting a few more minutes of rest.
He is re-awoken by Steve coming back into the room about an hour or so later, carrying a cutting board as a makeshift breakfast tray.
“I smell coffee”
'“Your nose does not deceive you” Steve mumbles through a shy smile as he places the tray in Bucky’s lap.
He grabs one of the hairbands on his bedside table and passes it to Bucky, knowing that he doesn’t like to eat with his hair down, and it makes Bucky’s cheeks heat up again.
“I love you” Bucky blurts.
It slips out way too easily. And his eyes widen as soon as he says it.
It’s not exactly something they’ve said so bluntly before. Always in different forms, like a joking ‘I hate you’ or a ‘how was your day?’ or a smile across a room. An ‘I’m with you to the end of the line’
So then Bucky’s heart is beating fast again, when out of the corner of his eye he sees Steve pause for a second, before sliding into bed, stealing a strawberry. “Is that all I had to do to get you to say I love you? Make you coffee?”
Bucky didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he lets it go and starts digging into his bountiful plate of breakfast foods. “You’re an idiot, Steve.”
Steve is silent for a second, staring at Bucky’s profile, before deciding to let whatever he was about to say go. “I could just take this tray from you-“
“It’s a cutting board”
“-and make you go get your own damn food.”
Bucky swallows his bite, washing it down with orange juice. “Oh Steve, I am ever so grateful of this feast you have prepared for me. However shall I repay you?”
Steve stares resolutely at the empty mugs on the bedside table. “maybe you could sleep in here more often?”
Bucky practically breaks his neck, turning his head so fast.
“I-you didn’t have a nightmare all throughout last night. I think it will help you sleep better, maybe.”
Bucky raises an eyebrow “Kinda feels like you’re wooing me right now, Stevie”
He watches over his coffee mug as a blush blossoms across Steve’s face, making its way down beneath his collar. He notices that it’s his shirt. He tries not to think about it.
Steve doesn’t ever respond, just seizing another one of the fruit on the plate and grabbing his tablet to continue reading whatever it was he was reading last night.
Bucky wanders into Steve’s doorway, door always open, an invitation of sorts maybe, one that Bucky hasn’t taken Steve up on until now. He’s sitting up in bed, tablet in one hand, probably reading, the grandpa he is, steaming mug in the other.
“Can’t sleep?” Bucky questions softly.
“One of those nights.” he says into his mug.
“yeah.” Is all that he can think of in respose, wrapped in his blanket, leaning against the doorway, looking small, mind going miles a minute.
Steve looks up after a second of awkward silence, curiosity crossing his face. “Did you have another nightmare?”
Bucky nods, shifting from foot to foot. “Yeah. Would you mind- could I join you? For reading and…tea"
“Of course Buck! Here, uh,” he sets down his things, scrambling out of bed. “Get settled; I’ll get you some of that chai Bruce got you.”
Bucky smiles a thanks, and gets under the covers, draping his blanket he brought in over top. Steve comes back in a minute later, carefully crawling in before handing over Bucky's favorite mug, a smell wafting out that reminds him of winter nights spend under multiple blankets, Steve watching the snow, drawing, and Bucky watching him draw.
“You didn’t have to do that for me.”
Steve smiles down at his tablet. An unspoken ‘I know, but I wanted to’ lingering in the air.
Eventually their cups empty and their eyes droop and Steve sets his things aside, burrowing down into bed, and Bucky waits till he hears his breathing even out before doing the same. It takes a while to fall asleep, thoughts swimming and not wanting to be drowned.
Bucky pretends to himself that he meant to go back to his own bed, and when he stirs halfway through the night, jumping awake with that shock of ‘I’m not in my own bed’ he pretends he doesn’t feel Steve pressed against his back, one arm wrapped tightly around, their legs tangled. He pretends he doesn’t press back into Steve, bathing in his warmth.