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“You know, it would be much easier to practice with a partner.” Bucky said over the cracking of the old gramophone by the window. Steve was sitting on their ratty sofa, sketchbook in his lap. He’d been drawing Bucky dance, the smooth curves of his arms and torso while he held his hands out around an invisible partner, eyes closed and feet sure. Steve let out a sigh and placed the tattered sketchbook on the table, walking across the room in socked feet to close the curtains against the last bit of sun streaming in through the chipped glass windows. He stood on the outskirts of the room, waiting until Bucky spun to face him before stepping into the dance, a hand on Bucky's hip and one on his shoulder. Bucky's eyes stayed closed, but his lips broke into an unrestrained smile as his hands came around Steve’s thin waist, pulling him closer while he adjusted his step to match their speed. This close Bucky smelt like salt and gasoline and stale cigarettes. Steve moved just a bit closer, pressing his lips into Bucky's neck.
“You need a shower.” He mumbled into the crook between shoulder and collarbone. A calloused hand came up and swatted him on head, then moved gently down his spine to resume its place on his hip. “Shut it punk, I’m tryin’ to focus.”
“You don’t need to focus, it’s just a waltz.” Steve said, but he fell quiet, face still tucked into Bucky's neck. Despite what most of the dames they went out with thought, Steve loved to dance, had since Bucky took his hand when they were twelve and pulled him into a spin, saying his ma had taught him in preparation for the upcoming school dance. He stepped on Steve’s toes more than once, but it didn’t matter after Bucky mumbled that he wished he could take Steve to the dance instead of Janice Taylor from down the street.
“Just a waltz, huh?” Bucky whispered, a slight trace of mischief in his voice that Steve had learned to both love and dread. The hand wrapped around his waist pulled and spun, leading their feet into a quick succession of steps completely against the beat of the music still falling from the rusty speaker. Steve kept the pace for a minute, sliding gracefully under Bucky's outstretched arm, before laughing at Bucky's lopsided grin and slowing them back down. Bucky pulled Steve back in close against his chest, singing the tune the record had come to low in Steve’s ear, his voice off pitch. It still made Steve go a bit weak at the knees.
“I’ve been dancing with tears in my eyes, cause the boy in my arms wasn’t you.”
Steve turned his head and lifted on his toes just a bit to press a lingering kiss to one stubble covered cheek. He felt Bucky's smile under his lips.
“You’re such a sap you know that?” Steve mumbled. He always did tease Bucky about his little endearments and adoring smiles, insisting he didn’t need to lay it on so hard. It’s not as if he had to woo Steve, he’d been sweet on Bucky since that first dance. Bucky would always just smile.
“Only for you, Stevie.” Bucky whispered, turning them in a slow spin, the record moving onto another track. “Only for you.”
They moved in circles on the tattered carpet of their living room for another four songs. The sun behind the curtains faded out and the room fell dark, but neither of them stopped to turn on the light.