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"I told you to bring a jacket," Bucky said, a smile pulling at his lips as Tony plastered himself tighter up against Bucky's back, seeking the warmth of his body.
"It's nearly summer, Bucky, I shouldn't have to deal with it being cold outside anymore." Tony grumbled.
"It's not even May yet, doll."
Tony started to say something, but the words died away as the light turned green and Bucky brought his motorcycle back to life. There was an itch underneath Bucky's skin to get them out of the city faster so he could really do something with his bike, but right now there were too many other people on the road for Bucky to try and crank out any real speed.
Once they were stopped again by another light, Bucky unzipped his leather jacket and twisted in the seat so he could drop it onto Tony's shoulders.
"Can't have you freezing on me, sweetheart," Bucky said, taking the zipper and closing it as soon as Tony managed to get his arms through. Bucky's smile turned softer as he righted himself in the seat and Tony's arms slid back around his waist, the sleeves past Tony's wrists and covering parts of his fingers—Tony was always positively swimming in Bucky's clothes, but it never failed to set bells off in his brain to see Tony dressed in his things, and he had a bit of a possessive streak, shoot him.
Tony pressed a kiss to the back of Bucky's neck in a silent thank you , and Bucky trailed his fingertips over the back of Tony's hand in response just as the stoplight blinked green.
It took them longer than usual to ditch civilization, but they had also left the tower later than normal and rush hour traffic really was terrible. But as soon as the masses melted away and the road stretched out in front of them, Bucky grinned wickedly and pumped the handlebar, the engine roaring underneath them and the trees passing by in green smears.
Tony's arms were tight around Bucky's waist, but the side of his head was pressed to Bucky's spine, so he knew that Tony was watching everything fly by them. And god, Bucky couldn't think of something better than this—an open road and the distance melting away, wind pulling at his shirt and hair, the thunder of his Harley loud in his ears, and Tony's whole body molded to his.
Well.
Bucky's thoughts shifted to the ring box in his bag. Riding his motorcycle was already sacred to him, and sharing it with Tony was holy, but Bucky had a feeling that riding it with his fiance, his soon to be husband, would be something completely beyond words.
He thought of how Tony might react, what he might say, what he might look like when Bucky proposed after their picnic. He could see it now—Tony's wide bambi eyes and a blush on his cheekbones, mouth parted just so in shock, a surprised "What did you say?" —and as Bucky felt his chest swell with anticipation and joy he twisted the handle and gunned it.