Work Text:
Bucky finished work early, and his first thought was that maybe he'd take Stevie to the pictures. That Mr. Smith Goes to Washington was still playing, and Steve'd been making noise about saving up to go see it for a couple weeks now.
Two blocks from home, though, there was a clang of trash lids and shouts from the next alley over, and Bucky rolled his eyes and then his sleeves as he jogged over. Just before he arrived, the small, blond, pain in his ass that Bucky told most people was his roommate came flying out, landing on his hip and grunted on the landing.
Two other men—notably taller and thicker in the torso than Steve, goddamn cowards—came running out of the alley and fled without a second glance at Steve or Bucky. Steve hollered after them, "Leave those girls alone!" and Bucky knelt down next to him, already pulling out his handkerchief.
"Stevie, this is the third time this month. It's too cold for this shit."
"Where'd you come from?" Steve asked, looking around. "Did you hear us?"
Bucky pressed the cloth to Steve's forehead, which just had a small cut, but head wounds always bled like the devil. "Was just on my way home. Got out early today." He raised an eyebrow at Steve. "Was gonna surprise you. Take you to see a movie."
Steve dropped back to the ground, groaning. "And here I go, making a mess of things."
Bucky shook his head, trying to hold back his grin. "Come on," he said. "Let's get home and clean you up. Maybe we can still make it." He stood up and reached his hand out; Steve grabbed it and Bucky carefully hauled the skinny man to his feet. With a heavy sigh, Bucky slung his arm over Steve's shoulders and started walking them home.
It was cold in their apartment, like usual these days in the middle of autumn, but Bucky still made Steve strip off his coat and shirt, suspenders dropping to hang at his sides as Bucky looked Steve over for any other cuts and bruises. "Looks like they stuck to your head this time. Lucky you," he said, pulling a blanket over Steve's shoulders.
Steve lifted his chin to look Bucky in the eye, and Bucky couldn't help but smile at the jut of his stubborn chin. "They barely got me. Coulda done it all day, Buck."
"Yeah, I know, Stevie." Bucky sighed and ran his fingers just along the side of the cut, then leaned in and kissed against the other side of it.
"You regret sticking with me yet?" Steve asked, but his voice was soft, a little uncertain, even though his stance was still tough and determined.
Bucky brought his other hand up to Steve's face, cupping his cheeks gently. "Never," Bucky said, a promise. "'Til the end of the line. Meant it." He smiled warmly, looking over his utterly ridiculous boyfriend, and kissed him, soft and gentle in case there were any spots that didn't show where a fist had landed yet. Steve kissed him back, pushing up with more intent, he must have lifted to his toes, and he licked into Bucky's mouth. Bucky always tried never to think about how affectionate Steve could get after getting into fights.
But all that not thinking didn't mean he didn't like how Steve kissed while he bled. Just a little bleeding. It made Steve so pretty, and if Bucky got to benefit from his reckless spark plug of a man, well, so be it.