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Steve Rogers is soaking wet, sitting on the curb, and annoyed as hell.
Which, of course, is when Bucky comes home from the docks, and casually sidesteps the open, violently spurting fire hydrant. He doesn’t even acknowledge all the neighborhood kids playing in its stream. He only sees Steve, and his smile threatens to reach past his ears, and split his face clean open.
“That’s a good look for you, Rogers.” Bucky claps him on his very damp shoulder.
Steve can only muster up a wounded harumph. Boy, is he miffed.
“What’d you do? Try and wash your clothes while yer still wearing ‘em?”
This time Steve rolls his eyes skyward as hard as he can, and all Bucky does is laugh and plunk down next to him on the curb. Steve scoots away a little.
“Had enough of Barneses for one day.”
“Oh no, was it Rebecca? Did she...” he guffaws so loudly a couple of the little kids take a step back from the sidewalk.
“Yuk it up all you want. It’s a good thing she’s your little sister. Not that’d I’d ever sock a girl. I’m just sayin’.’”
Bucky shakes his head. “Buddy, I’m pretty sure Becca could take you. Hell, she gives me a run for my money most days.”
Steve’s resolve to be stalwartly dramatic until he dries off cracks a little. Bucky is right; Rebecca Barnes is a firecracker. Bucky says she and Steve are a little bit alike. “Traded one scrappy Irish brawler for another,” he likes to joke, now that he and Steve have a small flat of their own not far from the Barnes’ place.
He slings one warm, slightly fishy smelling arm around around Steve’s shoulders.
“Let’s go up, huh?”
Steve shrugs, but doesn’t shrug him off.
“C’mon, I’ll make you a sandwich and you can tell me all about getting bested by a 14 year-old girl.”
“Wow, you sure know how to soothe a bruised ego,” Steve grumbles, but he begrudgingly gets to his feet, and Bucky hauling him up by an arm helps some too. His knees always ache when it’s hot out. Bucky knows.
“There’s a clean towel and dry clothes waiting for you right up those stairs.”
Steve goes straight for their shared bedroom and the dresser when they’re back in their crummy third floor walk-up. He’s wheezing a little, and he doesn’t see all that well when he goes from the bright outdoors to the dark interior of their home, but he makes do. He shucks off his shirt and his soaked trousers, and he’s rooting around in the top drawer for a clean pair of y-fronts and an undershirt when he feels the towel drop over his shoulders. Bucky sure is good at sneaking up on him, but it’s not like Steve can do much about being a little bit deaf.
Bucky wraps his arms around him and the towel, and cocoons him up in it, all cozy.
“See? Gonna get you nice and dry.”
“Knock it off, Buck.”
“Nope.” Bucky spins him around in the space of his arms, and Steve leans back, knocking into the dresser drawers.
“Christ!” he swears, and Bucky widens his eyes comically.
“Well I never, the mouth on you.”
Steve purses his lips, and tries to convey with his eyes how completely done he is with every single member of the Barnes family in this state and possibly in other states, and abroad too.
“Now don’t be sore, everyone takes the Lord’s name in vain every once in a while.” He rubs his hands up and down Steve’s arms, using the towel very ineffectively. “You’ll just have to fess up on Sunday.”
“Would you let me just—” Steve tries to pull the towel off his shoulders, and get out of Bucky’s arms, but only ends up closer to his chest. And Christ, he’s warm.
“Again? Five hail Marys at least,” Bucky tsks over the top of his head and damnit, Steve said that out loud.
He knocks his head against Bucky’s breastbone, mouth coming into contact with Bucky’s tanktop clad chest, and groans, exasperated. Except then Bucky stills his hands, drops them to his sides and steps back, leaving Steve shirtless, in wet boxers and half wrapped in a towel. Not even one of their good towels. He almost loses his balance it’s so abrupt.
Steve stares, agape. Bucky stares back. He bites his lip, and scrunches up his nose. Even in the dark, with his pisspoor vision, Steve can tell that he’s blushing.
“What the hell, Buck?”
“Um.” Bucky makes this weird, contorted face somewhere between horrified and mortified, and gestures in the direction of Steve and the floor.
Steve looks down. Oh, oh.
Honestly, his body is so damn uncooperative that he rarely recognizes the onset of arousal. Most times it feels like another inconvenience. Like right now. Like just now when he was flush against his best friend’s body in nothing but a towel, and oh God today is not a good day. He feels rooted in place, doesn’t even have the wherewithal to cover himself up. Feels maybe like he should run from the room, or turn away at least. But he can’t. He’s stuck. He’s locked in, and it looks like they’re in something of a staring contest now, because Bucky hasn’t moved either, and he hasn’t looked away from Steve’s face since he pointed out the.. problem. Steve feels his cheeks flush, and his chest, and most likely some of his abdomen, and he prays that maybe his erection will go away on its own but it’s not like his body does anything he wants ever so why now?
“Christ,” he says, for the third time, defeated.
Bucky laughs, uproarious and relieved sounding. He dips his head and absently scrubs a hand through his overlong hair. “I think swearing’s the least of your troubles now, pal.”
Steve laughs too, because he’s right. The tension between them ebbs.
Bucky smiles, and it’s just as warm as his skin was. He looks at Steve and then at his hands, considers them both for a long second. Then he holds out his arms: an invitation offered with a shrug. It’s a shrug that says, “why the hell not,” with a dash of “now or never.”
Steve wants to go to him, so he does, and Bucky scoops him back up, towel and all. Crushes them together, fits Steve against him like he belongs there. Says to the top of his head, “looks like it’s the least of mine, too,” and Steve can hear the twist of his lips. Bucky has the most expressive mouth.
The thought makes Steve laugh again. He shakes, nearly giggling, until Bucky leans back just a little and tilts up his chin, looks right at him with his eyes all crinkled up and a fond expression.
“Remind me to thank my sister,” he says faintly, and before Steve can ask why, Bucky is kissing him. Kissing him. Right on the mouth, and it’s mostly chaste, but this is his first kiss. He’s 20 years old, alive against all odds, and kissing someone. Kissing Bucky. Kissing is swell.
Bucky pushes the towel off Steve’s shoulders, freeing his arms, and Steve promptly wraps them around his neck, locking them together. He arcs up on his tip toes, and parts his lips just a little, catches Bucky’s lower lip between his two, and feels Bucky shiver. He knows he’s doing something right even if what they’re doin’ might be kind of wrong. Bucky’s got his arms around Steve’s waist, hanging onto his own elbows since Steve is so slight. It feels good, it all feels real good.
The longer they stand there like that, their mouths slotted together, Bucky hot against Steve’s skin, the more he can’t help but wonder what comes next. Bucky gives him an idea when he slides his tongue along Steve’s lips, and then into his mouth when he’s granted access. Kissing is really swell, Steve thinks, as their tongues move together and he figures out what aching want really feels like. Now he knows why dames are always falling all over themselves to get at Bucky first on a night out. Bucky sure knows how to kiss. And he sure knows how to hold someone close, and move against them just enough to let them know there’s more to come, lots more.
Steve isn’t sure he’s got enough hail Marys in him for that, though. Not yet at least.
When they come apart, after what feels like a day’s worth of kissing, Steve’s knees are weak, and his heart feels unsteady. Bucky props him up like he knows he’s likely to fall over, and this time he says it, a little bit breathless:
“Christ, Stevie, we’re gonna have to get Becca a gift.”
Steve smirks at him, even feels a little smug about the way Bucky’s looking at him, like maybe he wants to go right back to kissing, and like Steve’s erection isn’t the only hard, hot thing between them.
“I know,” he says, grinning, and feeling pleased all over. “We’ll get her a rosary, ‘cuz someone’s gonna need to start praying.”
Bucky laughs outright and kisses him again.
The only prayer Steve’s got is that the kissing never ends.