Archive of Our Own

"Steve," Bucky calls from somewhere in the depths of the apartment. Steve hears the sound of a door closing, then the not-so-quiet padding of Bucky's bare feet on the hardwood floors of the hall.

Steve doesn't bother doing anything to alert Bucky of his presence in the living room and not in his own bedroom. Or the bathroom. Or the hall closet. Or wherever else Bucky's looking. He just flips the page of his book and continues reading.

"Steve," Bucky calls again, but this time much closer. Out of the corner of Steve's eye he catches the movement of Bucky's head poking out from around the corner, face lighting up as he catches sight of Steve. The rest of his body appears and the footsteps start up again.

Still, Steve doesn't look up from his novel, wanting to at least finish his current paragraph before Bucky steals all of his attention away like Steve knows he will. That poor book. He's been trying to get through it for weeks now.

"You are never going to believe what just happened," Bucky bemoans, shaking his head. He's at Steve's side in a moment and doesn't bother to give any warning before he dramatically falls into Steve's lap. Steve just barely manages to save his book from getting squashed.

He’s pretty used to having Bucky invade his space like this. Having lived with him for two years now, it’s a common occurrence. And it’s not like Steve minds, anyways. He likes the easy comfortability they share. Plus a lapful of Bucky is always nice.

With a silent sigh to himself, Steve sets the book face down onto the side table and turns his undivided attention to Bucky, who's squirming a little in Steve's lap to get comfortable.

"What is it?" Steve asks, matching Bucky's dramatic tone. "What am I not going to believe?"

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve for a moment, as if questioning his sincerity. But he must deem him genuine enough, or at least not care how invested Steve is, because he answers anyways. "I just got off the phone with Natasha," he starts. "She cancelled on me!" Bucky throws his arms up, nearly smacking Steve in the face in the process.

Steve carefully places his hand on Bucky's forearm and lowers it away from his face.

"You're kidding," he says, a frown curving onto his lips at the news.

Steve's never met Natasha, but Bucky talks about her all the time, so he feels like he knows her pretty well. From Bucky's stories, Steve's gathered that Natasha's organized and she's punctual. Cancelling important plans at such short notice, and with her boyfriend no less, just doesn't seem like something she would do. It feels a little odd to be disappointed in someone Steve's never met, but he is.

Bucky shakes his head. "I wish I was," he sighs. "She said something came up with work and she can't get out of it, which means that she won't be able to go this weekend. I already called the hotel and tried asking for a refund, but apparently they don't do that. There's no way I'm just gonna let that money go to waste, so I guess I'll just have to go myself." Bucky presses his lips together into a disappointed line and deflates against the back of the couch, slinking down Steve's thighs a little. "Who goes to Coney Island alone? How pathetic is that?"

Steve snorts, earning a glare from Bucky, and pats Bucky's thigh. "Aw, don't be such a sourpuss, Buck," he says. "Who said anything about going alone?"

"Uh, hello, do you have cotton in your ears or something?" Bucky asks, then leans forward and grabs either side of Steve's face so he can tilt his head and check his ears. "I did, Steve. I said that I’m going alone. In case you missed it, the person I was supposed to go with cancelled on me, so I've got no one else to go with."

Steve swats Bucky's hand away from his face again and rolls his eyes at his best friend's dramatics. "Quit it, you know I heard you."

"Then why would you ask such a stupid question?"

Steve gives Bucky an unimpressed look, and doesn't bother indulging Bucky with an answer. Instead he gets to his point. "I'll go with you."

Bucky perks up. "Really?" He asks, excitement lacing his tone already. There's a happy tilt to his lips, but it falls quickly and his brows scrunch together. "Wait... I thought you were devoting your weekend to that big important work project? Isn’t the deadline coming up?"

A slow grin spreads across Steve's face, and Bucky lifts a quizzical eyebrow at it.

"Well aren't we lucky I finished the piece this morning then," Steve says, puffing up a little.

Bucky lights up at that, and he smacks a hand to Steve's chest. “You better not be messing with me,” he warns, narrowing his eyes at Steve.

“I’m not! Promise,” Steve replies, holding his hands up in surrender. “I'd show it to you, but I've got a big lug in my lap, so I can't exactly move,” he jokes.

Bucky rolls his eyes, but wriggles off of Steve's lap and into the free space on the couch. He turns expectant eyes to Steve. “Well? Let's see it then,” he badgers.

“Demanding,” Steve mutters teasingly, but gets up to fetch his laptop from the kitchen table.

Bucky kicks out a foot and manages to catch Steve on the ass as he passes— payback for the snide comment, probably.

When Steve returns to the living room, he squishes himself back into the space between Bucky and the armrest and boots up his laptop before opening the files for the final version of his latest project.

This had been an important one, probably the biggest assignment Steve’s ever had. A shiny new logo for none other than Stark Industries itself. Big name. Big project. Big paycheck, too. His boss, Peggy, had personally handpicked the team of designers for this project, and Steve nearly shit his pants when she asked him to head it up.

Needless to say, this project is Steve’s baby. He’s poured his heart and soul and so many hours into it. The new logo is sleek, it’s modern, it’s everything Pepper and Tony Stark had requested— or so Steve hoped. The big reveal presentation is scheduled for the following week, so he has until then to fret over their reactions.

It feels incredibly nice to have the logo completed ahead of schedule, though. And a relaxing trip to Coney Island with Bucky sounds like exactly what Steve needs right now. He deserves a fun little reward for all the hard work he’s poured into this over the last month.

When the file loads fully, Bucky plucks Steve’s laptop out of his lap to get a better look. His brows are pinched together, eyes narrowed, and lip firmly between his teeth as he concentrates on taking all the details in.

“Shit, Stevie,” he finally says and blows out an impressed breath. “This is amazing. These lines are so clean, they’re gorgeous, really.” He looks up at Steve, a genuinely proud expression on his face. “They’re gonna love it. You did a really great job.”

It’s Steve’s turn to let out a breath, and a relieved smile breaks out across his face. He can feel the way his cheeks are slightly warm, preening under the praise. Even though Bucky doesn’t work for his company, or even work in graphic design, his opinion is still one of the most important ones to Steve.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve replies.

Bucky smiles warmly at Steve and tips his head so it rests against Steve’s shoulder.

Steve can’t help but think of how nicely he fits with Bucky, all tucked against Bucky’s side like he’s meant to be there, like he’s the missing piece and the puzzle is complete now. It’s a dangerous train of thought, he knows, especially considering he’s about to spend the entire weekend alone with him.

“Sure thing, pal,” Bucky says. He stays like that for a moment before lifting his head. There’s a twinkle in his eyes and an overexcited pull to his lips. “So,” he drags the word out, “if you’re really comin’ with me to Coney Island you better go pack, then, don’cha think?”

Steve laughs and mirrors Bucky’s grin. “Guess I should, shouldn’t I?”

They take the bus the following morning, bright and early. Steve’s used to waking up with the sun, as he does daily for his morning run as well as work. Bucky, on the other hand, isn’t as fond of it. He moans and groans and nearly makes them late to the station with how long it takes him to wake up enough to get ready and gather his things.

But, they do make it. And by the time they’re seated, Steve next to the window and Bucky squished up beside him, Bucky is wide awake and chattering away eagerly.

“Thanks again for coming with me,” Bucky says, nudging Steve’s shoulder with his own. He’s got a sincere smile on his face, and he reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. It’s almost too much for Steve. “I’m really happy you could make it.”

Steve returns the smile and tries to ignore the way his heart somersaults in his chest. He manages to swallow down the ‘of course, Buck, I’d do anything for you,’ that’s sitting on the back of his tongue, threatening to slip out. The sentiment of it is true, but Steve thinks it might be a bit too intense for this moment, a bit too intimate.

“I’m happy I could make it too,” Steve says instead, bumping Bucky in return. “S’been a while since we’ve had some quality time just the two of us, hasn’t it?” And okay . That was maybe a bit much, wasn’t it? Steve internally winces and hopes Bucky doesn’t read too much into it.

“It has,” Bucky agrees with a good-natured chuckle. He sits up a little straighter, then slings an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “But now we get the whole weekend.”

The whole weekend indeed , Steve thinks. It’s a little overwhelming, knowing that he and Bucky have this whole weekend to themselves, that they get to escape real life for a few days and enjoy their own little bubble together. If he closes his eyes, just for a moment, he can almost imagine that it’s some sort of romantic getaway.

It is a romantic getaway , Steve’s brain unhelpfully supplies. Or it was supposed to be before Bucky’s girlfriend cancelled on him and you took her place .

Stifling a huff at his own traitorous mind for bringing that up, Steve pushes all thoughts of Natasha and her relationship with Bucky out of his mind and lets himself sink back into Bucky’s touch.

The bus ride passes relatively quickly, with Bucky there to entertain Steve, and before he knows it, they’re gathering up their things and heading up the front path to their hotel.

As far as hotels go, the one Bucky had booked for them isn’t all that fancy or expensive. The Best Western Plus, just a fourteen minute commute from the amusement park. It’s a nice place, nothing gross or trashy about it, but it’s certainly not up to par with anything Steve’s friend Thor would book for himself, but that doesn’t matter much. They’re only staying in the hotel for two days, and it’s not like they’re planning on spending time in the room itself other than when it’s time to sleep. As long as it’s functional, and functional it is.

Besides, as long as Bucky’s there, it’s perfect.

Thank goodness that checking in isn’t too complicated. Steve’s itching to get up to their room so they can drop their stuff and head back out. The man behind the front desk makes quick work of searching up Bucky’s reservation and passing over a key card. In no time, Steve and Bucky are making their way down the hall towards the elevator, idly chatting while they wait.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to Coney Island,” Steve muses, laughing a little. The elevator dings and they step in.

“Me too,” Bucky replies. He jams his thumb into the circle labeled three, and the doors shut in front of them. “Think the last time I was here was for Becca’s fourteenth birthday. She’s twenty-two now. My family used to come at least once every year before that, too.”

Steve blows out a surprised whistle.

“Wow,” he says. “I can see why this trip is so important to you then,” he laughs.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to send Becca pictures of us here,” Bucky replies, a wicked grin curling onto his lips. “She’s going to be so jealous.” He laughs, big and booming, and Steve can’t help the way his whole face softens as he watches. Bucky’s always been close to his family, especially his sisters. Telling old stories about them, catching up with them on the phone, and the spontaneous trips to surprise each other never fail to put a smile on Bucky’s face. Steve loves seeing him like this. It always rubs off on him, putting him in a good mood.  

The elevator dings, signalling their arrival on their floor. Steve’s thankful for the interruption, saving him from getting too caught up in the slippery slope of his affectionate thoughts about Bucky. They exit the elevator and start walking down the narrow hallway towards their room.

“So,” Steve starts, “have we decided what we’re going to do first, or is that still up for debate?”

“I was thinking we could hit the beach today,” Bucky says, glancing from the keycard in his hand to the numbered plaques on each door they pass. He lets out a little celebratory noise when they reach their room and sticks the key card into the slot, waiting for the little light to glow green. “I dunno about you,” he continues, pushing the door open, “but I think a nice day of doing nothing and basking in—”

Steve’s brows furrow as Bucky cuts himself off, words dying in his throat. “Uh, Buck?” he asks. “You were saying…”

“ Shit ,” is Bucky’s response, which was not what Steve was expecting.

He presumes Bucky was not planning to say that, meaning something must be wrong with their room. What, though, Steve can’t tell, especially not when Bucky’s still standing in the doorway, blocking the view.

“Buck,” Steve prompts, nudging Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky must come back to himself, because he takes a few steps further into the room. Steve follows close behind. Bucky still hasn’t said anything else since opening the door, and as Steve looks around the opening of the room, he still isn’t sure why.

To the left is the bathroom. To the right is a full length mirror and a small closet. Ahead of them, the wall juts out enough that Steve can’t see into the rest of the room until he walks past it.

Once he does, however, he sees what stole all of Bucky’s words.

Just past the wall is a queen bed. One queen bed.

“Oh,” Steve breathes.

Bucky awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and turns to face Steve, an apologetic expression on his face.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Steve,” he says. “I completely forgot that when I called to try to cancel I ended up switching the reservation to a single since I thought it would just be me. I was so happy when you said you’d come that it totally slipped my mind to change it back to a double.”

That strikes Steve as a little odd— why would Bucky book a double room for him and his girlfriend? Wouldn’t they just share one bed?

He doesn’t bring it up, though. Maybe they just like the extra space.

Bucky picks the key card back up from where he set it down and hoists his bag higher on his shoulder. “I’ll go back downstairs and see if they can do something about this.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Steve says. “It’s really not that big of a deal, Buck.” His next words spill out before his brain can properly catch up. “We can just share the bed. I don’t mind if you don’t.”

Bucky’s quiet for a beat. “You… don’t?” He asks slowly, a contemplative look taking over.

He sounds unsure, and shit, of course he is. Of course he probably minds sharing. He’s got a girlfriend , for crying out loud. He was supposed to be sharing this bed with her. But then again, he just said it had originally been a double room. It’s a small detail that Steve has trouble fitting into the equation.

Either way Bucky probably thinks it’s weird that Steve would jump to that option so quickly.

“Er, or I could just use the extra blanket, steal a pillow or two, and bunk on the floor,” Steve quickly tries to correct.

Bucky frowns. “Like hell you’re sleeping on the floor,” he scoffs.

“Okay, fine, no floor,” Steve says. He wracks his brain for another solution that doesn’t involve storming the front desk and demanding a room change. That just seems like far too much effort for a problem that should have a simple fix.

“We can share,” Bucky says, surprising Steve. He looks mostly confident in his decision, though Steve does make out a little trepidation around the edges.

He decides to ignore it and smiles at Bucky instead.

“Yeah? You’re okay with that?” He asks, just to be sure. He doesn’t want to make Bucky do anything he’s not comfortable with.

Bucky nods. “Yeah. Just two bros sharing a bed, what’s wrong with that?” He laughs.

Steve awkwardly laughs along, but Bucky’s right. There isn’t anything wrong with two bros sharing a bed. But when one of said “bros” has been secretly pining after the other for months now? Yeah, there’s a lot that could go wrong there.

It’s too late to go back on it now, though. Steve will just have to be extra careful not to make things awkward.

He walks over to the luggage rack and drops his bag on it.

“So you were saying something about going to the beach?” Steve asks.

Bucky lights up, all traces of awkwardness suddenly disappearing.

“Hell yeah!”

Once they reach a somewhat empty part of the beach, they decide to stop and set up camp. Steve drops his bag and kicks off his shoes. The sand is warm on his bare feet, and he wiggles his toes in it, letting it spill between them and swallow them up. He reaches for the big beach towel rolled up in his bag and spreads it out before dropping down and sprawling across it.

Steve tucks his arms behind his head and props himself against his bag. His eyes slip shut behind his sunglasses and a content sigh passes his lips as he basks in the warmth of the sun. They haven’t even been here a full ten minutes yet, but Steve already feels so much more relaxed than he was before.

He cracks open his eyes, head lolling to the side to find Bucky. Steve has every intention of commenting on how it was a good idea on Bucky’s part to come here first, but all words die on his tongue when his gaze finally lands on Bucky.

Bucky’s standing at the foot of his own towel, at the perfect vantage point for Steve, and his fingers grasp the hem of his tank top. And, good god, it’s like time slows to a crawl as he starts to pull it up his body. Inch by inch that golden skin comes into view, stretched over abs and ribs and glorious pecs. Steve’s mouth goes dry at the sight.

The thing is, Steve’s seen Bucky shirtless before, so it’s nothing new, but that doesn’t change the fact that it always feels like the first time he’s seeing Bucky’s body.

Bucky drops the tank top carelessly to the sand and turns towards the sea, stretching his arms out wide, then straight up. He bends an elbow behind his head and grabs onto his own hand, pulling. His biceps flex in the process and the muscles in his back ripple deliciously. Steve has to bite down hard on his lip to hold back the whine that nearly slips out.

Turning towards Steve again, Bucky lets his arms drop back down to his side and he moves towards his bag. He bends over— good god he bends over — to rifle through it, the fabric of his swim trunks straining against his ass. Steve almost swallows his tongue. Those shorts are going to be the death of him, they really are. Short and tight and barely leaving anything to the imagination. If Steve keeps staring like this, soon his trunks are going to leave nothing to the imagination.

Steve’s so busy ogling Bucky that he doesn’t register something flying towards his face until it’s too late and it hits him smack in the nose.

“Wake up and help me not burn, yeah?” Bucky says, walking over and stopping right in front of Steve and blocking his sun. He’s got his hands on his hips, drawing attention to the sharp dips of his hips and how they disappear down the front of his shorts.

Thank god for sunglasses with dark lenses , Steve thinks as he sits up and pushes them down his nose so he can better see Bucky. “Huh?”

Bucky jerks his chin towards the bottle lying at Steve’s side— his ammo, so it seems.

Steve picks it up and turns it to read the label. Sunscreen. Oh . He looks back up at Bucky. “You want… me to put this on you?” He asks slowly.

Bucky nods. “Yeah, I can’t get my back,” he casually replies, like he doesn’t know how much the thought of Steve getting his hands all over Bucky is messing with him.

“Uh,” Steve says dumbly, glancing between the sunscreen and Bucky. “Yeah, sure.”

“Great, thanks,” Bucky says, then plops himself down on Steve’s towel, right between his spread legs. Once he’s settled, he glances back and throws a smile over his shoulder at Steve.

Steve only gapes for half a second before he responds to Bucky with his own smile, albeit a smaller one, in response. He hastily pops open the cap of the sunscreen and squeezes a dollop of it into his palm, dropping the bottle back at his side. He buys himself a little more time by rubbing his hands together, but once both hands are covered in sunscreen, he has no more excuses.

He lifts his hands up to Bucky’s back, but he doesn’t touch yet. Instead, Steve just lets them hover there. His eyes roam over Bucky’s back, hungrily taking in the smooth expanse of skin all laid out and waiting for him. It’s a little intoxicating, knowing he’s got free rein to just touch , even if it is only to apply some sunscreen.

“All good back there, Stevie?” Bucky asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Steve jerks out of his stupor. “Uh, yeah, yep, all good,” he replies, perhaps a bit too quickly.

He takes a breath to steady himself and finally presses his sunscreen-covered palms against Bucky’s back.

The skin is warm under his fingers, and Steve revels in it. His palms rest just below Bucky’s shoulders, and he drags them down, leaving a path of sunscreen in their wake. He stops just above the waistband of Bucky’s swim trunks, thumbs itching to dip beneath it. Steve bites down on his lip and lets his eyes briefly flutter shut just thinking about it.

He doesn’t, of course. He does have some self control, thank you very much. Instead he returns to Bucky’s shoulders and begins going back over his work, rubbing the cream into Bucky’s skin until it disappears.

Bucky lets out a content hum as Steve’s fingers dig into his skin, massaging the sunscreen into it. “Feels nice,” he mumbles, head tipping back a bit.

Steve doesn't trust himself to say anything back. He keeps working at Bucky's back and shoulders, making sure every bare inch is protected from the sun. There aren’t many obvious traces of sunscreen left, but Steve keeps rubbing.   Just a few more minutes , he keeps telling himself.

However, his time quickly runs out when his fingers hit what must be a particularly tight spot at the base of Bucky's neck.

“Oh, Steve ,” he groans.

And wow , that sure snaps Steve back to reality. He quickly pulls his hands from Bucky’s skin, like he’s been burned by it, and scrambles to his feet, nearly kneeing Bucky’s spine in the process.

“All done!” he says, tugging at his tight shorts. “Ocean’s looking real nice. I think I’m gonna go take a dip!” Steve knows he sounds frantic, and he probably looks panicked too, but that’s the least of his worries. Right now he just really needs to get out of here before Bucky notices anything else about him. Specifically the increasingly tight fit of his swim trunks.

He doesn’t wait for Bucky’s response before he pushes past him and hurries towards the water.

“Hey!” Bucky calls after him, and Steve doesn’t even have to see him to know that his face is all scrunched up in that cute way it gets when he’s confused.

“Steve!” Bucky shouts again. This time Steve spares a glance over his shoulder, but doesn’t stop or fully turn around. Bucky’s holding up the bottle of sunscreen and, just as Steve suspected, he looks perplexed. “What about you? Your pasty ass burns way easier than mine!”

“Uh, later!” Steve calls back. “The ocean’s calling to me!”

As he looks back towards the water, he screws his face up and rolls his eyes at himself. “The ocean is calling to me?” What the fuck, Steve.

As utterly stupid as it was, it did the trick.

The closer Steve gets to the ocean, the wetter the sand becomes until the waves finally lap at his toes. He splashes into the water and wades far enough out to ensure that his lower half gets completely submerged. He’s in such a hurry to do so that the chilly temperature of the water doesn’t even register until he stops wading and it starts to lap at his sensitive midsection.

Steve lets out a hiss and grits his teeth. It’s safe to say that his little situation is more than taken care of. At least there’s that. In for a penny, in for a pound. He sucks in a deep breath, bounces up on his toes, then dunks himself below the water.

When Steve breaks the surface, he wipes the hair out of his eyes and opens them, only to see Bucky standing at the edge of the water, looking for Steve. It’s clear when he spots him, because his lips curl up and he starts walking into the ocean, right towards Steve.

Steve, who suddenly feels all kinds of hot again despite the chill to the water. Who could blame him, though, when it seems like time’s all but slowed around Bucky as he enters the water like he’s straight out of a god damn Baywatch episode.

His skin glistens in the sun, and the water swirls around his ankles and moves up and up and up the further he goes, drawing Steve’s eyes along the lines of Bucky’s toned legs. He follows it shamelessly, mouth going impossibly dry as the red of his swim trunks gradually darkens with the rising water.

So much for all of Steve’s boner-hiding efforts. They’re all completely ruined as he watches Bucky inch nearer and nearer to him, looking like a swimsuit model off the cover of Sports Illustrated.

He comes to a stop in front of Steve, hands coming up to his hips. “What was that all about?” Bucky asks.

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “What was what all about?” He asks, aiming for casual.

Bucky rolls his eyes and sends him a chastising look. “Steve,” he says, firm. “You just ran off.”

“I was hot. I needed to cool off!” Steve answers, and Bucky narrows his eyes at him. So, of course, Steve does what any normal person in his situation would do. He panics. “You know what? You look like you could use some cooling off too,” he says, then proceeds to send a wall of water Bucky’s way, completely soaking him.

A lock of hair drips into Bucky’s face, and he stands there stunned for a moment before jumping into action. “Oh, you little shit!” He cries, sending a giant wave Steve’s way before diving after him.

They end up splashing around in the water until they get tired, then head back to the sand to sprawl out on their towels again.

It’s hot out, but the water droplets still clinging to Steve’s skin act as a nice buffer. He settles back against his bag and lets his body relax, eyes slipping shut behind his sunglasses.

He hears Bucky settle down beside him, then the soft sound of rustling and eventually pages turning — Bucky’s book.

Steve doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but the warmth and the faint sound of the waves in the distance do wonders to lull him to sleep.

The next time he blinks his eyes open, the sun is lower in the sky. As if on cue, his stomach growls loudly.

Beside him Bucky chuckles. “Hungry?” He asks, though he clearly knows the answer.

Steve bumps his sunglasses down but doesn’t bother sitting up, just lolls his head in Bucky’s direction.

“I could eat,” he answers. “What about you?”

“I’m starvin’,” Bucky says, flashing Steve a grin.

“Bucky!” Steve cries, flapping out a hand to blindly swat at Bucky’s arm. “You should’ve woken me up if you were hungry.”

Bucky shrugs. “You looked peaceful,” he says. “But you’re awake now, so what do you say to Nathan’s?”

Steve’s stomach grumbles again and he and Bucky both laugh.

“That sounded like a yes to me,” Bucky says, grinning.

Nathan's is a bit further down the beach, so after they pack up their things they zigzag through umbrellas and beach chairs, dodging flying frisbees and half-constructed sand castles.

The line at Nathan’s is long, but it moves quickly and before they know it they’ve got their hot dogs and something cold to drink in hand.

Bucky takes a huge bite of his hot dog, too impatient to wait until they’ve returned to their previous claim of the beach to start eating. He throws his head back, letting out a pleasured sound. “God, I love their hot dogs,” he garbles around his bite.

Steve laughs and takes a bite of his own. It’s been a while since he’s had a good ol’ Nathan’s hot dog, but it’s just as delicious as he remembers.

“You think Becca would be jealous of these, too?” Steve asks as they approach a new empty patch and drop their things again.

Bucky lights up. “Oh my god, she would,” he says. “We should send her a picture. C’mere.” He squats down to carefully set his drink in the sand and grab his phone from his bag. Once he finds it, he beckons Steve over with his hot dog and pulls up the camera. “C’mon,” he urges, reaching out impatiently to tug Steve into his space.

Steve stumbles into Bucky’s body from the force of his tug. He’s about to right himself and maybe put a little more space between them, but Bucky lifts up his phone and leans into him even more, smushing his cheek right up against Steve’s.

Steve’s a little caught off guard by it, but it brings a smile to his face, and he slings his arm around Bucky’s shoulders to keep him there.

“Alright, Nathan’s on three!” Bucky calls, holding his hot dog up into the frame and pasting a huge grin on his face. Steve follows suit. “One, two, three!”

“Nathan’s!” They chorus, and Bucky snaps a few pictures of them smiling. He takes a few more of them pulling random faces, and one where they’re in the middle of taking huge bites. They’re ridiculous and fun, and Steve wants them all.

Bucky keeps his focus on his phone as he sends several of the photos to Becca. He includes a long string of gloating emojis for good measure.

He starts going on about how he wishes he could be there to see the indignant look on Becca’s face when she gets the pictures, but Steve isn’t really paying attention. Instead, he’s staring at the little gloop of mustard sitting at the corner of Bucky’s lips. He wants, so badly, to lean over and kiss it off. It would be so easy, too; he’s close enough that all it would take is the tilt of his head and maybe—

“Steve?” Bucky suddenly asks, pulling Steve out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” Steve says dumbly.

“You’re staring. Did I grow a second head or something?”

Steve flushes, but he tries to ignore it. “Oh, no, uh, you just have some…” he points to his own lip, “mustard,” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” Bucky says. His eyes drop down to his own hands, looking for a napkin, but he doesn’t have any. “You got a napkin?”

Steve does have a napkin; he’d grabbed a handful before they left, despite Bucky saying he was sure he wouldn’t need one. Instead of handing it over, like a normal person would, Steve crumples the napkin a little and lifts it to Bucky’s lip, gently wiping the smear of yellow away.

The mustard is gone, but Steve’s fingers linger near Bucky’s mouth. He dabs at the now spotless corner, just barely resisting the urge to brush his thumb across the fullness of Bucky’s bottom lip. Steve’s eyes flicker up to Bucky’s, and there’s something unreadable in them as they blink back at him.

“Get it?” Bucky asks, voice wispy and too quiet compared to the noisy beach surrounding them.

It’s enough to snap Steve out of it, though, and he jerks his hand back, dropping it to his side. He clears his throat and nods, tearing his eyes from Bucky to stare steadfastly forward.

“Got it,” he answers, then shoves another bite of his hot dog into his mouth.

Bucky doesn’t seem as frazzled by the intimacy of the whole ordeal as Steve— doesn’t seem frazzled at all , really. He just keeps on munching on his hot dog, a content smile on his face.

It’s only mildly relaxing, knowing that Bucky probably hasn’t picked up on Steve’s very obvious feelings despite how many times he’s nearly let them get the best of him today. He really needs to work on that.

After lunch they attempt to build a sandcastle. The artist in Steve takes it very seriously, but Bucky gets bored quickly and starts scooping up handfuls of sand to bury Steve’s legs. Steve lets him until he gets bored too, and they take another dip in the ocean.

As the sun starts to get lower in the sky, the beach begins to clear as families head home for the day and groups of teens head back to the boardwalk to hit the rides a few more times.

Steve and Bucky decide that they should probably wrap up their day at the beach as well, but not before they watch the sunset, as per Steve’s request. It’s a bit of a romantic request, Steve realizes, but watching the sunset has always been one of his favorite things to do, especially when he’s here. It’s something he and his mother used to always do whenever they were here, a tradition they formed together, and Steve wants to share that tradition with Bucky.

“It’s just this way,” Steve says, pointing towards an outcropping of rocks jutting out over the water. It’s on the other side of the beach from where they’d set up earlier, so they had to walk a little to get there, but it’s well worth it in Steve’s opinion.

They leave their beach things at the bottom in a pile and start the short climb to the top, taking care not to  fall.

“What do you think?” Steve asks as he and Bucky reach the top. He extends his arm out towards the ocean and puffs up his chest a little, nostalgia tugging at his heart.

The awestruck look on Bucky’s face makes it even better. “It’s beautiful,” he gushes, taking a step closer to the edge of the rocks. “This view is gorgeous.”

“Isn’t it?” Steve replies. “My ma’s the one that found this place. We used to sit up here at the end of every night and watch the sunset,” he explains, lowering himself into a sitting position. He tips his chin up to look at Bucky. “I thought it’d be nice if we did the same.”

A warm smile curls onto Bucky’s lips and he nods, sinking to the ground as well. He presses himself right up against Steve’s side as he sits and knocks his shoulder into Steve’s.

“I’m glad you showed me this place,” Bucky tells Steve. “Means a lot to me.”

“Me too,” Steve says.

A comfortable silence blankets them, and Steve’s content to just bask in it.

Eventually, Bucky breaks it.

“We’re so going on the Cyclone tomorrow,” he says, grinning over at Steve.

Steve sits up a little and narrows his eyes at Bucky. “Are you serious?”

Bucky’s grin grows and he leans in closer, dropping his arm around Steve’s shoulders to pull him playfully into his side. “‘Course I am, I don’t joke about the Cyclone.”

Steve laughs a little, but his nerves prickle. “Okay,” he replies hesitantly.

“You scared?” Bucky teases.

Steve rolls his eyes and juts out his chin, trying to put on a brave face. “No,” he responds. And that’s not a lie, not really. He’s not scared , per se. It’s just that the last time he went on the Cyclone he threw up, and that’s not exactly something he’d like to repeat. Especially not with Bucky.

The hand Bucky has around Steve gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “It’ll be great, I’ll be right by your side the whole time,” he reassures.

Steve believes him. Bucky’s always been so patient with him, encouraging him to do things that might be out of his comfort zone, even if they’re as small as riding a rollercoaster that makes him nervous. But Bucky’s always there to support him in any way that he can. It’s incredibly sweet, and Steve appreciates it so much.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve says softly and rests his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky leans his head against Steve’s and the two of them fall into a companionable silence as they watch the sun slink below the horizon. It paints the sky with streaks of bright pinks and rich purples and deep oranges, like a beautiful watercolor canvas. The water sparkles with the reflection of the colors, and Steve’s fingers itch for a paintbrush, the desire to immortalize this moment strong. He wants to be able to remember everything about the first sunset he watched with Bucky.

Bucky’s thumb absently strokes at Steve’s shoulder, and he shifts just enough that their thighs press together.

It’s those little things Bucky does without second thought that make Steve wish he could always have this. That make him with it meant the same to Bucky as it does to him.

When they get back to the room, Steve claims the first shower of the evening by beelining straight for the bathroom. The water feels nice against his slightly sunburnt skin (because of course Bucky was right, he should have worn sunscreen), and he lets it wash away all traces of the beach.

By the time he finishes, Steve’s ready to fall into bed, all the events of the day finally catching up to him. He pads out of the bathroom, towel wrapped securely around his waist, and face plants right into the mattress, spreading his arms out and reveling in the coolness of the sheets on his body.

It’s so comfortable that Steve thinks he could easily fall asleep just like this.

From somewhere behind him, Bucky laughs. “Don’t hog all the covers while I’m showering,” he warns, then the door squeaks as it shuts with a click and a few seconds later the shower starts up.

Suddenly Steve’s wide awake. He rights himself and stares at the expanse of bed surrounding him— the expanse he has to share . Right. He’d totally forgotten about that. So much for getting a small reprieve from Bucky to properly get a grip on his feelings.

Resisting the urge to groan, Steve rises from the bed and dresses himself in his pajamas bottoms. He’s thankful he brought an extra t-shirt he can wear with them. It’s not that Steve’s not comfortable being shirtless around Bucky— he clearly is. But if they’re going to be sharing a bed, it’s probably polite not to sleep half naked.

Once he’s dressed and has folded up his towel nice and neat, Steve heads back over to the bed. He slides into the right side and makes sure he’s as close to the edge as possible, so Bucky has room too. Steve’s too amped up about the whole ordeal to try to sleep yet, so he props himself up against the pillows and messes around on his phone while he waits for Bucky to finish in the shower.

It isn’t much longer after that before the shower shuts off, and a few minutes later Bucky emerges from the bathroom. Steve makes the mistake of looking up from his phone, and god damn it, can’t he ever catch a break?

Some of the steam from the shower escapes behind Bucky, making him look like he’s in a damn photoshoot. Bucky’s got the small, white, hotel-issued towel tied around his waist, except his is slung so much lower and so much looser than Steve’s had been. There’s even more of his hip indents showing, and Steve can even make out the light dusting of hair trailing from his belly button down beneath his towel.

Steve tears his eyes away and stares at the ceiling, but that’s not much better when the sound of Bucky’s duffel bag unzipping fills the room, and Steve’s mind jumps to the conclusion that he’s searching for his pajamas, which he’ll then change into. That thought just brings up a whole new slough of pictures in his brain.

He squeezes his eyes shut and desperately tries to think of sunbathing grandmas and stubbing his toe really hard to quell the thoughts. Thankfully, it works for the most part.

The jostling of the sheets has Steve opening his eyes, and he turns his head in time to see Bucky pulling his side of them back. He pauses and reaches out towards the lamp on the bedside table.

“Y’know, I love the beach,” Bucky starts, and he chuckles a little, “but, god, I had sand in places where sand should not be.”

Steve snorts. “Tell me about it,” he agrees. “I didn’t even know sand could get into some of those places.”

“Right!” Bucky laughs. “It’s ridiculous how just when you think you’ve got it all you find even more somewhere else.”

They both laugh at the truth of that, but then their laughter dies down and the conversation peters out. That’s when Bucky turns off the lights and joins Steve beneath the sheets.

In the dark, Steve becomes even more aware of Bucky’s body next to him, and he keeps himself still so as to not disturb him or accidentally bump into him. He’s sure there’s awkwardness radiating off of him, but he can’t help it. He and Bucky may be a touchy feely pair, not afraid to be affectionate with each other, but sharing a bed seems so much more intimate.

“We should play some of those carnival games on the boardwalk tomorrow,” Bucky says. He speaks softly, but his voice still seems loud against the stark silence that blanketed them thickly before.

“Y’know those things are complete scams,” Steve replies, tension slowly leaking out of his limbs. He brings his hands up to rest against his stomach as he lies on his back.

The sheets rustle as Bucky shifts beside him, turning onto his side. “I know,” he responds. “But I should probably try to win something for Natasha since she couldn’t come to win anything for herself.”

“Oh,” Steve says softly, turning his head towards Bucky. “Right. That would be sweet of you.” He’s thankful for the cover of the darkness to hide the disappointment that’s probably all over his face. He tries not to let it leak into his voice.

And suddenly all Steve can picture is Bucky and Natasha standing in front of one of the carnival game booths—  the one where the goal is to knock down as many milk bottles as possible with only three baseballs. Natasha is more than capable of throwing the baseballs herself, but Bucky would offer to help her anyways, it being the romantic thing to do. He’d stand close to her, maybe put his arms around her. He’d press his cheek against hers and help guide her hand. She’d roll her eyes at him, but she’d lean back into his touch, letting her hand be guided.

Steve’s heart aches to be in Natasha’s place in that scenario.

“Maybe I’ll try to win her a stuffed cat; she’s been bothering me about getting her a new one ever since her real cat scratched up the one I got her when she got her wisdom teeth out,” Bucky muses. “Or I could try for one of those teddy bears that are as big as we are. She’d get a kick out of that.”

“I’m sure she’ll love whatever you get her,” Steve reassures, looking away. He turns his shoulders a little, angling his body slightly away from Bucky.

He must not have been as subtle about that, and the enthusiasm in his response must be obviously lacking, because Bucky laughs softly into the air and nudges Steve’s arm with his elbow. “Don’t worry, I’ll win you something tomorrow, too,” Bucky teases.

Steve opens his mouth to protest— what, though, he’s not quite sure— but before he can, a loud yawn spills out of Bucky.

“Dream about that prize, Stevie,” he murmurs, rolling over. “I’m gonna win you somethin’ real special.”

Bucky’s side of the bed goes quiet after that, leaving Steve awake with his thoughts, overanalyzing what Bucky meant by that. Could he tell Steve was jealous? Or was he just making a joke?

It takes Steve much longer than he would have liked to fall asleep thanks to that. But eventually he muffles the thoughts enough and is able to drift off.

Steve wakes up with a solid weight against his back and warm breath against the side of his neck. There’s an arm draped over his hip and legs tangled with his beneath the sheets, and Steve’s sleep foggy brain doesn’t think anything of it as he burrows back into the embrace he’s in, reveling in the coziness of it all.

He can’t remember the last time he woke up like this with someone else. It’s such a nice feeling, one he could easily get used to.

But then reality comes flooding back in, and Steve remembers where he is and how being curled up in Bucky’s arms— the very ones that Natasha, his girlfriend , has probably woken up in countless times— is just a happy accident.

Steve’s eyes fly open, suddenly alert, and he stills. Carefully, he untangles his legs from Bucky’s and rolls onto his back to try and extricate himself from Bucky’s arms. Except Bucky must sense his fidgeting, because he doesn’t make it very far before Bucky draws him back in, arm securing itself around his waist.

Bucky pillows his face against Steve’s shoulder and makes a quiet snuffling noise. Frankly, it’s fucking adorable.

And because the rational part of Steve’s brain is an asshole, he’s reminded that Bucky probably thinks he’s Natasha, and them ending up spooning as they slept was only a matter of circumstance— confused circumstance, no less.

As much as Steve would love to snuggle back into Bucky’s arms and let the cozy atmosphere pull him back under, he knows that wouldn’t be fair of him; it’s one thing to gravitate together while they’re both asleep, but choosing to stay like that would just be taking advantage of Bucky. He’d feel too guilty when he wakes up again if he were to do that.

With a silent sigh of defeat, Steve brings his hand up to Bucky’s arm and jostles it. “Buck,” he whispers.

Nothing happens.

“Bucky,” Steve repeats, louder than before. He shakes Bucky’s arm a little harder, too.

This time, Bucky starts to stir, tilting his head up before his eyes flutter open and he blinks away the grogginess. He looks disoriented for a second before his vision finds Steve and focuses on him, and a lazy smile curls onto his lips. “Mm, Steve,” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep. “G’morning.”

His hair’s all mussed up from the pillow, and Steve can just make out the faint indents of the pillow creases against his cheek. It’s positively adorable.

“Morning, Buck,” Steve replies, resisting the urge to tuck some of those stray strands of hair behind Bucky’s ear and trace the lines pressed into his skin.

“Wha’ time s’it?” Bucky asks, stifling a yawn into Steve’s neck.

“A little after nine,” Steve answers. He still hasn’t made to separate himself from Bucky, and he feels a little bad about it. But then again, Bucky hasn’t made a move to do so either.

“So early,” Bucky tuts, shaking his head a little.

Steve snorts. “We’ve got a busy day at the boardwalk ahead of us,” he says. “The earlier we go the more we can do.”

“That’s true,” Bucky replies, and he sounds a little more awake than before. “Doesn’t mean I have to like how early it is,” he adds, readjusting his head against Steve’s pec.

“As cozy as this is, you think you could let me up so I can pee?” Steve asks, breaking the delicate moment,. He keeps his tone light and teasing, though, to try and quell any awkwardness.

It’s clear that Steve’s pointing it out is what causes Bucky to register that he’s octopussed around Steve like that. His eyes widen a little and he quickly untangles himself, drawing his limbs back to himself. His cheeks turn a rosy pink as he sits up. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to,” he gestures vaguely, “get all up in your business. Hope you weren’t too uncomfortable.”

Quite the opposite, actually , Steve wants to say. He bites his tongue, though. “Don’t worry about it, Buck,” he tells him. “What’s a little spooning between pals?”

Bucky laughs and sends Steve a grateful smile. “Hah, yeah,” he agrees, smile dimming just enough that Steve notices.

Steve doesn’t say anything about it, but he can’t help but wonder what that means.

“Hey, don’t you have to pee?” Bucky asks, giving Steve’s shoulder a shove.

“Right,” Steve replies, shaking himself out of it before he rolls out of bed and pads over to the bathroom.

“Don’t take too long in there, we gotta get moving soon! Coney Island awaits!”

As expected, the boardwalk is crowded when Steve and Bucky arrive.

Children run from ride to ride, shrieking with excitement, their slightly less enthusiastic families following close behind. People of all ages stop at the different stalls around them, throwing baseballs at milk bottles or darts at balloons or trying their hands at a number of other classic carnival games. To their right, a teen couple stops to take a photo together in front of the carousel, and to their left, a group of friends spill out of William’s Candy Shop, arms loaded with caramel apples and popcorn and all sorts of old school candy.

All around the boardwalk are brightly colored signs and blinking lights advertising many different rides and games and restaurants. One sign is shaped like a giant yellow fish that points in the direction of the aquarium. There’s even an older looking sign promoting a “freak show”.

Carnival music plays from the speakers suspended on the lamp posts, and the smell of greasy, fried food lingers in the air.

It’s a little overwhelming, all the sights and sounds and smells, but it fills Steve with a giddy excitement, leaving him eager to get started. He can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips.

“God, I love this place,” Bucky murmurs beside Steve, and when Steve glances over at him, there’s a matching grin on his face as he takes it all in. Awe and excitement sparkle in his eyes, and Steve’s sure he’s remembering all the good times he’s had here too.

They stop at the ticket booth near the entrance first to buy their ride tickets. Bucky ends up insisting they splurge for the day pass so they have access to unlimited rides. It’s a bit pricier than Steve would like, but he knows it will be well worth it in the long run.

Once they have their passes, they make their way further down the boardwalk. They pass the tilt-a-whorl and the sea serpent and several places serving delicious looking snacks. Carnival game stalls and thrill rides surround them, and Steve has no clue where to start with it all. So he decides to let Bucky make that decision. “What do you wanna do first?” He asks, looking over at Bucky.

“We could go on the carousel,” Bucky jokes, jerking his chin towards the spinning circle of lights and plastic horses as they walk past it. “Or maybe we can start with some of the carnival games here— no, wait!” He comes to a stop and points straight ahead at the ferris wheel, where it towers over them, tall and proud. “Let’s go on the ferris wheel first,” Bucky says, grin spreading across his lips.

“The ferris wheel?” Steve repeats, quirking a brow at Bucky.

“Yeah, it’s a Coney Island classic. You can’t come here and not take the Wonder Wheel for a spin,” Bucky insists.

Steve narrows his eyes at Bucky. “ You want to go on that?” He questions.

Bucky just rolls his eyes and knocks his shoulder into Steve’s. “Oh, c’mon, Steve,” he whines. “I don’t mind heights that much. It’ll be great, come on .” He pushes out his lower lip and makes his eyes all wide and puppy dog like.

And, well, who can say no to a pouting Bucky? Steve’s only human. Besides, he’s not the one with a fear of heights; he loves ferris wheels. If Bucky thinks he can handle it, Steve’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Alright, let's do it,” Steve agrees.

Bucky lets out a cheer, and they set their new course towards the ferris wheel.

The line is fairly short when they get there, and by the time they make it to the front, Bucky’s buzzing with nervous energy beside Steve.

Steve’s mildly amused by it and only a little concerned.

They flash their wrist bands at the ride attendant, but before they can climb into the passenger car, the attendant stops them. “This is going to be the last empty car, but it’s one of the swinging ones. Is that okay with you two?” The boy— Peter, according to his name tag— tells them. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been on the swinging ones, but they’re super fun, more fun than the normal stationary ones, I think,” he rambles on.

Steve glances over at Bucky and gives him a questioning look.

“It kind of reminds me of a rollercoaster a little bit,” Peter continues.

The apprehension on Bucky’s face fades at that and he sends Steve a small smile. Then he turns towards Peter. “Works for us!” He says.

“Ah, great,” Peter replies and holds out a hand towards the car. “Hop on in then.”

Steve climbs in first, the car swaying a little as it adjusts to the addition of his weight.

Bucky follows him in, hand shooting out to clutch at Steve’s shoulder so he doesn’t tip over from the sudden movement as the car shifts again.

Steve snorts under his breath and takes a seat on the bench. “You okay?” He asks.

“I’m good,” Bucky mutters, sliding into the space next to Steve. He puts his hands in his lap and flashes Steve a tight-lipped smile.

“Enjoy your ride!” Peter calls, securing the car door behind them. Then he pushes the lever that starts the wheel up.

The car jerks as the ferris wheel whirs to life, that chipper jingling music starting up again. Slowly the car they’re in starts to rise, climbing into the air towards the top of the wheel.

“This isn’t so bad,” Bucky comments, loosening his grip on the bench and relaxing into his seat a little more.

“Have you been on the swinging ones before?” Steve asks, biting down the amused smirk threatening to take over his face. He doesn’t think Bucky has, and he knows he’ll enjoy every second of the surprise on Bucky’s face when he finds out just what it entails. No matter how many times a person watches the swinging ones, they’re never well and truly prepared for their first time riding them— Steve learned that the hard way.

“No,” Bucky responds, just as Steve suspected. His eyes narrow. “Why?”

Steve shrugs. “No reason,” he answers casually. “I was just wondering.” He spares a glance up at the track their car is hanging from. It looks like it’s seconds away from rolling down the bars, swinging them to the other side like a pendulum.

“They don’t seem that much different from the— oh, shit !”

Bucky’s eyes widen almost comically, and his hand shoots out to grab onto Steve’s as the car lurches forward, sending them swinging through the air.

Steve can’t help but laugh a little, and between the shock and alarm on Bucky’s face, he manages to glare at Steve for that.

“Weren’t expecting that, were you?” Steve asks with a grin.

Bucky elbows him in the ribs. “Shut up,” he mumbles, ducking his head. He doesn’t try to defend himself, though, which means Steve knows he’s right.

The car shifts, the wheels on the track balancing precariously in their position before rolling and sending them swooping backwards this time.

Bucky’s grip on Steve’s hand tightens, and he sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. It’s clear he’s trying not to outwardly react— probably so as to not give Steve even more ammo against him— but he’s not doing a very good job of it.

“Hey, did I ever tell you about how when I met with Tony Stark for his consultation he had one of his robots serve us drinks and it ended up spilling Tony’s all over him?” Steve asks, trying to distract Bucky with a mindless work story— just a little something to take his mind off of the ride and keep him from worrying.

“No, I don’t think I’ve heard that one,” Bucky replies, eyes flickering from outside the car over to Steve’s face.

Steve lets his thumb trace absent minded shapes into the back of Bucky’s hand, a soothing touch that has some of the tension releasing from Bucky’s hand and arm already. He jumps into his story, telling Bucky all about how Tony had yelped in surprise which then set the robot off and it sprayed him with a fire extinguisher.

The story has Bucky laughing in all the right places, only mildly tensing up the next time the car swings.

By the time Steve finishes his story, and a few other ones, Bucky has all but adjusted to the sudden jolts. Now that the initial shock has worn off, Steve fully expects Bucky to retract his hand, maybe even apologize for it even though he must know Steve has no problem with it.

Instead, Bucky’s grip just loosens, but the weight of his hand doesn’t disappear from Steve’s palm at all. It stays there, a constant pressure, for the rest of the ride. It makes Steve’s heart do all sorts of funny acrobatics in his chest.

It’s dangerous, but if Steve tries hard enough, he can almost completely pretend like they’re on a date, the way they’re sitting close with twined hands.

When they reach the top of the ferris wheel, Bucky looks over the side of the car at the boardwalk below. The people are small dots, their laughter far away and much quieter than on the ground. Steve can feel the way Bucky’s nerves return.

The view from Steve’s side of the car, however, is just the ocean, stretching on for miles and miles— a much calmer picture. Steve nudges Bucky’s shoulder and tugs his hand to draw his attention towards it and away from the anxiety-inducing people below.

Bucky wriggles closer to Steve in his seat so he can look. His body is warm where it presses into Steve’s side.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Steve asks, but he’s not looking at the ocean anymore.  

Bucky nods. “It is,” he agrees, a calmer note to his voice.

Steve’s glad it worked, and he definitely doesn’t mind the way Bucky’s even closer now.

The rest of the descent goes much smoother, and Bucky doesn’t let go of Steve’s hand the entire time. It leaves Steve positively giddy.

After the ferris wheel, Bucky decides it’s time for him to follow through on all the promises he made to Steve yesterday, starting with the Cyclone.

It’s Steve’s turn to be a little nervous as they approach the rickety old coaster, but as they wait in line Bucky returns the favor and distracts him with his own senseless chatter. When they board the cars and strap themselves in, Bucky reaches over and gives Steve’s hand a quick squeeze before sticking both of his straight up in the air, a bright beam on his face.

It turns out Steve had nothing to worry about either; his stomach cooperates with him and he ends up enjoying himself tremendously despite the jerky turns and general bumpiness of the track.

After the Cyclone, they hit up some of the carnival games where Bucky insists on tossing a tiny ball into a colored glass until he wins a prize. Specifically, until he wins the giant stuffed puppy dog holding a heart in its mouth.

Steve thinks Bucky means to win it for Natasha, but when he finally sinks the ball into the red glass and the worker passes the stuffed puppy over to Bucky, Bucky turns to Steve and presents it to him with a big grin.

“For me?” Steve asks, eyebrows pulling together.

Bucky nods. “‘Course,” he answers, like it’s obvious. Then a soft expression takes over his face. “I told you I’d win you something, didn’t I?”

He looks so pleased with himself, and the happiness is infectious as Steve takes the stuffed puppy and hugs it close to his chest— which suddenly feels tight from an onslaught of emotions. “Thanks, Buck,” he says, returning the smile, just as bright.

They move on to a water racer game, where Bucky has to direct a stream of water at a small target to advance his horse towards the finish line on the board above them. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth and his brow furrows as he concentrates, and Steve may sneak a few pictures of it. He tells himself they’re for references to draw later, but even he knows that’s not entirely true.

Bucky ends up winning this game, too, and he picks out the giant stuffed banana with the dreadlocks and the rasta hat.

“Natasha will love this one,” he laughs, holding the banana up to give it a once over before tucking it under his arm.

“You’re giving her the banana?” Steve asks, and he can’t help the confusion coloring his tone.

Bucky turns a curious look towards Steve. “Yeah, what else would I give her?” He wonders.

Steve shrugs and holds up the puppy dog he’s been carrying around. “Dunno, I guess I thought she’d like something like this one,” he answers.

Bucky’s forehead creases and he shakes his head. “Nah, you’re much more of a dog person than she is,” he chuckles. “Not to mention, that’s way too sappy of a prize to win her,” he adds.

That nearly stops Steve in his tracks. What the hell is that supposed to mean? That he meant for it to be sappy when he gave the stuffed dog to Steve?

Bucky can’t just say things like that, can’t make those kinds of implications. They do things to Steve, and it’s just not fair. And on top of it all, they’re making it harder and harder to separate the fantasy of this being a real date from the reality that it isn’t.

They’ve barely even left the maze of carnival games when Bucky gasps, eyes catching on something over Steve’s shoulder.

Before Steve can even turn to see what exactly it is that captures Bucky’s attention like that, a grin unfurls across Bucky’s lips and he reaches out to grab Steve’s hand.

He’s been doing that a lot since the ferris wheel— just taking Steve’s hand like that. Steve knows it’s casual, just Bucky’s overexcited way to hurry Steve along, but Steve can’t stop his heart from skipping a beat every time it happens anyways.

As Bucky tugs Steve along, it becomes crystal clear what he has his sights set on. There, nestled right between the skee ball and the sledgehammer, sits a bright pink cart with two oversized wheels in the back and a large sign boasting of cotton candy. If that isn’t enough to give it away, the giant tree of premade cotton candy bags certainly are.

“One of each kind please,” Bucky tells the man behind the stand.

It isn’t until the man names his price that Bucky drops Steve’s hand so he can fish out enough money to cover the cost. Steve mourns the loss, but only for a second before his mind catches up with him and he reaches for his own wallet.

“Lemme pay for mine,” Steve says.

Bucky shakes his head and passes the correct amount of money over to the man. “Nah, put that away,” he replies, nodding towards Steve’s wallet. “Let me buy you some cotton candy.”

Steve presses his lips together and narrows his eyes at Bucky before stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. “Buck, you already paid for popcorn earlier. You really gotta let me pay for something,” he tells Bucky. “I don’t want you to have to foot the bill for everything.”

Bucky scrunches up his nose. “Don’t worry about it. Just sit back and let me treat you a little, punk,” he says. “You did me a favor, agreeing to come so last minute. The least I can do is buy you some food. Besides, I wouldn’t have made Natasha pay, either.”

That’s because she’s your girlfriend , Steve almost replies. He catches himself before he can, though, and swallows it down. He’s afraid it would come out too bitter, and he really has no reason for that.

Once their money has been properly stowed away in the register, the man behind the stand gets to work, taking out two paper cones and simultaneously swirling them in either one of the machines.

All arguing about money stops, as both Steve and Bucky’s attention is captivated by the process. Sugar crystals collect all along the cones, gathering and gathering until they start to pile up and puff out.

While it’s fun to watch the cotton candy form, Steve thinks it’s even more fun to watch Bucky take it all in. His eyes are glued to the machine, following the movements with childlike wonder.

It’s the little moments like these that Steve thinks he’ll remember most about this trip.

When they finally get their cotton candy, they take it over to a nearby bench and sit down to enjoy their snack.

The cotton candy is delicious, and Bucky’s very enthusiastic about eating it— ripping off huge pieces and sticking his tongue out of his mouth to place them on it. It would be a lot more amusing if those blissed out faces he makes as he lets it melt in his mouth and the way he licks the tips of his fingers after each bite didn’t strike a particular kind of chord in Steve.

He has to tear his eyes away before it really starts to affect him.

“You want to try some of this?” Bucky asks, pulling a pinch of the fluff from his cone and stuffing it into his mouth. A happy smile spreads across his face as he chews.

They each got a different flavor— Steve’s is  blue raspberry while Bucky got classic pink vanilla. Steve’s had both flavors before, but he’s not about to turn that offer down. More cotton candy is always a good option.

“Sure,” Steve replies, “hit me.”

Bucky tears off another chunk of his cotton candy and holds it out for Steve to take.

“Thanks,” Steve says, taking the chunk from Bucky. He pops it into his mouth and lets it melt against his tongue, vanilla sugar exploding over his taste buds. “Mm,” he hums around the bite.

To return the gesture, Steve pulls a piece of his own cotton candy and offers it up to Bucky.

But instead of just taking the piece from Steve’s hand, Bucky, the fucking tease, leans forward and closes his lips around the bite and… Steve’s fingers, catching him completely off guard.

The cotton candy has all but disappeared, and Steve nearly chokes on his tongue when, instead of pulling back, Bucky’s tongue slides around Steve’s fingers, licking up every last bit of the sticky cotton candy.

It’s warm and wet, saliva a little sticky from the spun sugar. He traces over the tips of his fingers, his tongue slowing as it encounters Steve’s calluses from drawing .

Steve’s brain short circuits. He can’t think of a single plausible explanation for this, but he can’t think of any reason to pull away, either.

Bucky’s eyes flicker up to meet Steve’s, and Steve suddenly can’t breathe. There’s something dark in them, something heady, and if Steve didn’t know any better he’d think this is affecting Bucky just as much as it’s affecting him.

When Bucky finally pops off of Steve’s fingers, his tongue darts out to wet his lips, which curve up into a seemingly innocent smile. “Wanted to make sure I got it all.”

All Steve can do is nod in response. He finishes his cotton candy in a daze.

After they finish their cotton candy they pick back up from where they left off, continuing to make their way down the boardwalk.

“We should go on that,” Bucky says with a grin. He lifts his hand to direct Steve.

When Steve sees what he’s pointing at, his brow furrows and he lets out a laugh that he just can’t help.

The tunnel of love. How fucking ironic.

“What? Why would we go on the tunnel of love, Buck?” He questions.

Bucky shrugs. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” he insists. “We can make fun of how cheesy it is. And Natasha would want us to go,” he adds, like that’s what will get Steve to agree.

Steve’s confusion at the request dissipates after that; Bucky only wants to go on it as a tribute to the fact that he’s supposed to be here with his girlfriend, not Steve. That makes a lot more sense.

Steve isn’t so sure sitting on a tiny boat meant for cuddly couples is the best thing for him right now, especially with the way his brain’s still a little fried from… whatever that was with the cotton candy. But it’s not like Steve knows how to say no to Bucky anyway— nor does he want to.

Call him selfish, but Steve’s more than happy for another chance to pretend there’s something more between them.

“Alright,” he concedes. “But don’t expect to get lucky from this,” he jokes.

Bucky throws his head back as he laughs. “Aw, doll, don’t be like that,” he teases right back. “By the end of this ride I’m gonna have you wrapped around my finger, baby.” He sends Steve an overexaggerated wink.

Steve’s stomach flip flops. Bucky doesn’t even need the ride for that— he’s already got Steve hook, line, and sinker.

On the ride, the boats are just as small as Steve expected. They're clearly made for lovebirds who want to practically sit on top of each other the whole time. It doesn’t help that they’re both pretty big guys, which leaves them pressed even closer together than most other couples.

He and Bucky clamber into one of them and squish themselves together. The length of their legs press together all the way from thigh to foot, and their shoulders overlapping. They tuck their stuffed prizes in front of them near their feet.

To make things a little more comfortable, Bucky lifts his arm and drops it around Steve's shoulders. He waggles his eyebrows at Steve and chuckles.

Steve laughs along, but on the inside he feels like a schoolboy with a crush that's finally getting the long desired attention he's always wanted from him.

The boat sails slowly down its set path, right towards the mouth of the ride where a giant sign reads “tunnel of love” in big loopy letters. Surrounding the name are dozens of hearts in all different sizes and colors. At the bottom of the entrance, strings of pink and purple lights hang down, giving the illusion that the boat is entering a different dimension.

The whole display does wonders to set the tone for the ride, as does the romantic mood music that grows louder and louder the closer they get to it.

“How cheesy d’you think this thing’s gonna be?” Bucky questions, leaning in close to Steve’s ear so he doesn’t have to speak over the music.

Steve ducks his head in too— so Bucky can hear him, of course. “Cheesier than those nachos you were eyeing earlier,” he responds with a snort.

Finally the boat floats through the curtain of lights and the ride officially starts.

The whole thing is nothing more than a knock-off love themed It’s A Small World . Animatronic dolls hold hands and give each other cute pecks on the cheek in front of the Eiffel Tower, and in a gondola on an Italian canal, and on a beach in Hawaii.

Tea lights and paper lanterns hang from the ceiling, and pink hued lights filter through each scene, filling them with low mood lighting.

There are big flower displays all through the background, and Steve would bet his whole paycheck that the flowers used all have some sort of romantic, love-y meaning.

In one scene, two dolls sit in a boat just like the ones on the ride. They’re gazing into each other’s eyes and look like they’re inches away from a kiss. It sort of reminds Steve of the Kiss the Girl scene in The Little Mermaid . Beside the tiny boat, two swans nuzzle together, their long necks bent into the shape of a heart.

Despite how silly it all is, Steve can’t help but find it cute. If this were a real date, he’d be quite charmed by it all, and it really would put him in a romantic mood.

Steve finds himself relaxing into his seat and Bucky’s side, fully leaning into him. It’s comfortable, being wrapped up in Bucky like this, and Steve wishes he could have him like this whenever he wants. But he knows that he can’t, so he’ll take what he can get now.

They spend the first few minutes of the ride making fun of all the decorations, trying to see who can top the other in pointing out the most over the top one.

Bucky comments about how freaky the animatronic dolls look, and when they pass one dressed like cupid suspended in the sky with a bow and arrow in its hands, he points out how oddly similar it looks to their friend Clint. That has Steve ducking his head into Bucky’s chest and cracking up.

After their laughter subsides, Bucky shifts in his seat so he can properly look Steve in the eye. “Hey, thanks again for coming this weekend,” he says, sincerity coloring his tone. “I’m having a really great time with you, Steve.”

Steve ducks his head a little, trying to fight the bashful smile curling at his lips. “Thanks for letting me join you,” he replies. With a small burst of confidence, he reaches over to place his hand on top of Bucky’s where it rests against his knee. “I’m having a really great time, too,” he adds, letting the corner of his lips quirk up.

When his eyes flicker up to meet Bucky’s, he finds a sweet smile on his lips, eyes soft around the edges as he looks back at Steve. Steve falls a little bit more in love with him right then and there.

Steve isn’t sure which one of them moves first. He thinks it might be himself, but the details of it aren’t all that important. Not when Bucky’s lips, the very lips he been dreaming of kissing for so long now, press against his.

They’re soft as they slot with Steve’s, slightly chapped and a little wet. So much better than Steve could have ever imagined.

The arm Bucky had around Steve’s should slips down to the small of his back, leaving tingles in its wake, and it seemingly pulls him impossibly closer.

Bucky tastes like spun sugar and heaven, and Steve gets lost in it all too quickly, bringing a hand up to brush through Bucky’s hair then trace down his cheek to cup his chin. He forgets everything; where he is, why he hasn’t done this before. His whole world narrows until it’s nothing more than him and Bucky in this moment.

Kissing Bucky almost feels like racing down one of the big hills on the Cyclone. It’s thrilling; it makes Steve’s heart race in his chest, makes his stomach drop out from under him, makes him feel like he’s falling through the air in the best way possible.

And then a shock of cold splashes over Steve, surprising him so much he jumps back, tearing him lips from Bucky’s, his eyes flying open.

Steve looks down at his lap to see his legs dripping with water, bits of his shorts and shirt freckled with it. He glances out of the boat only to realize that they’ve just gone down a small hill right into a pool of waiting water. Oh.

When he drags his eyes back to Bucky, sees his lush red lips, the way his hair’s just slightly out of place— it feels like Steve gets drenched all over again. Only this time, it’s not with water. It’s with realization. And panic, because...

Holy shit, he just kissed Bucky .

Bucky, his best friend . Who is in a relationship with someone that isn’t Steve . Who just kissed him. Oh fuck.

Bucky looks just as surprised by the water as Steve, and it seems to take him a moment longer to figure it out than Steve. The exit dock comes up quickly, barely even a few second float away from the bottom of the hill, and it’s just as they reach it that it clicks for Bucky.

The second the boat comes to a stop at the exit, Steve rises to his feet, nearly overturning the whole thing in his haste to exit. His stuffed puppy lies forgotten at the bottom of the boat. He doesn’t even wait for Bucky, he can’t wait for him. He’s too afraid to see the look on his face and hear what he has to say.

Steve can just imagine it: the pitying, sad smile Bucky gives him as he gently lets him down easy, telling him he’s sorry but he’s not interested in Steve like that, and he has a girlfriend anyway.

He hears Bucky calling his name, but he doesn’t stop or look back. He can’t.

Steve’s stomach churns and the urge to get out of this crowd grows. He doesn’t know where he’s trying to go; he just lets his feet carry him as far away as he can get.

When he finally stops, he realizes that he’s walked all the way to the place he and Bucky sat and watched the sunset the night before. Steve lets out an almost bitter laugh at that, but lowers himself to the ground.

Frustration bubbles beneath his skin, and tears tingle behind his eyes. How could he be so stupid? Kissing Bucky… what was he thinking? Nothing is going to be the same now, there’s no possible way.

The urge to punch something is strong— maybe a nearby rock, to release some of that frustration. But he mostly wants to punch himself. Instead, he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and lets out a huff.

As much as Steve tries, he can’t stop replaying that moment, over and over again. The way Bucky’s lips felt against his, the way he filled every single one of Steve’s senses, clouding all rational thought.

Kissing Bucky is probably the best thing Steve’s ever gotten to do… but at what cost? His entire universe feels out of balance now because of it.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but he can’t find it in himself to get up and make the trek back to their hotel room. Bucky’s probably there, if he didn’t stay at the amusement park. Steve feels queasy thinking about having to face Bucky after that.

“Oh thank god!” A voice— Bucky’s voice— cries, and Steve’s heart starts to pound in his chest. His eyes burn again, too, and he clenches his jaw against it.

Here we go , he thinks, steeling himself for the conversation he knows is going to follow.

Slowly, Steve turns his head.

And there Bucky stands, on top of the rocks with Steve, a few paces behind him, looking bewildered as hell, yet simultaneously relieved. He’s clutching the stuffed puppy to his chest.

“Steve, what the fuck !” He hisses, and Steve winces. That isn’t the kind of reaction he’d expected. “What the hell was that all about? You just bolted —”

“I’m sorry,” Steve interrupts. His voice is strained, soft and sad in a way he just can’t help. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“— and then I couldn’t find you… wait, what?” Bucky asks. “You didn’t mean to just disappear on me like that? Because it sure as hell seemed like it. I tried calling after you, but you ignored me.”

Steve ducks his head, embarrassment and guilt filling him up. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, “for running off, for worrying you like that,” he lists. “But also for kissing you.”

Steve stands up so he can explain himself to Bucky’s face, so Bucky can see how sincere his apology is. He’s so in his head trying to figure out how to apologize and explain himself that he doesn’t notice the hurt that flashes across Bucky’s face.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Steve says again. “That stupid ride got to my head and I just got so caught up in it all, and I didn’t think . I’m sorry, Bucky, please don’t let my feelings for you ruin anything between us. Or between you and Natasha. I’m not trying to get between you two, I swear.” His eyes flicker down briefly and he sucks in a breath. “I… I know how it feels to love you, and I would never want to take that away from her. Never .”

Bucky laughs, and Steve’s eyes snap back up, breath hitching in his throat. “Are you… are you laughing at me?” He asks, unable to mask the hurt in his voice.

That sobers Bucky up quickly, and he immediately shakes his head, eyes going serious. “No, I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” he corrects. Then he reaches out to grasp both of Steve’s hands in his. “I’m just a little confused, I guess, you think me and Natasha are… together? That we’re dating ?”

Steve pauses, eyes roaming Bucky’s face. Slowly, he nods. “Aren’t you?” He questions meekly, suddenly unsure. All the signs had pointed to that conclusion, but… was it possible he’d been totally wrong?

Bucky laughs again, and a bright smile breaks out across his face. “No, Steve,” he says. “Me and Natasha aren’t dating. We never have been, and frankly, we never will.”

Relief floods Steve’s body, and he can’t help the laugh of his own that bubbles up. “Oh,” he says, dumbly.

“I’ve only got eyes for one person,” Bucky continues, twisting his hands in Steve’s so their fingers twine together, “and he kind of left me hanging after our kiss was interrupted by some water.”

“ Oh ,” Steve repeats, and it feels like all the air has been punched out of his lungs. Because Bucky’s talking about him .

“Yeah, oh ,” Bucky grins, stepping into Steve’s space. “I’m kind of surprised you didn’t know that. I haven’t been the most subtle about my feelings,” he laughs.

Steve snorts. “I honestly had no idea,” he admits. “But now that I do… you have no idea how happy that makes me, Buck.”

“Mm, I think I have some sort of idea,” Bucky responds. “You’re not the only one that’s in love,” he adds, eyes sparkling.

Steve does the only plausible thing he can think of in response to that: he leans in and kisses Bucky again.

It feels a little surreal, but god, Steve’s never felt happier in his life.

Later, they sit at the edge of the rocks and watch the sun dip beneath the horizon again. This time Steve’s sitting between Bucky’s legs, pillowed against his chest with Bucky’s arms curled around him.

Bucky pulls Steve against his chest and hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his neck. “I love you,” he murmurs into the skin.

Steve tilts his head back, eyes softening as they land on Bucky. “I love you too.”