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    Summary

    Bucky storms through the front door, spitting mad. Steve can smell the rage on him, and his blood sings in Pavlovian response. He doesn’t stop to wonder what set Bucky off. It must be a mission. It usually is, and when it isn’t, it’s his teammates. He doesn’t smell any blood on Bucky tonight, but the way he heals, that doesn’t say much. Steve doesn’t really pay attention to human affairs, including Avenger ones, and Bucky’s durable enough that he doesn’t fret when he goes out decked in red, white, and blue.

    Bucky will tell him what’s wrong later, but first—

    Steve intercepts him halfway across the room, and Bucky snarls, shoving at Steve’s chest. It’s strong enough to force Steve back a few steps, and sometimes, he thinks this is his favorite part about fucking Bucky—the way Steve can feel him struggle.

    He slams into Bucky, and Bucky’s prepared for it, spoiling for a fight. They grapple on the floor. Bucky’s good at this—has to be, being what he is. But Steve’s played the soldier too, has fought his own wars, and life is peaceful now, but it wasn’t always.

    And it’s not hard to beat a man who wants, deep down, to lose.


    Steve helps Bucky bleed out some stress—literally.

    Language:
    English
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