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It was really fucking late, and Bucky was pretty much shitfaced, and Gale was sitting at a table on the wall with a finger swirling his ginger beer. He had not planned at all to stay out this late, hoping earlier he could sneak out back to the barracks and get more than four hours of sleep for once, but no dice. John had kept on him all night, making sure he laughed at his terrible jokes, and participated in conversation, and watched as he lost money on inconsequential bets. John was so look at me, look at me, that Gale often wondered if he'd gotten enough attention as a kid. He wasn't sure, though, even if everyone in the world had their eyes trained on him, if that would really be enough. So- there he was, eyes on Bucky, making sure he didn't get himself kicked out of the Air Force for off-key singing.
Gale didn't really mind, though. John was so shiny, he thought he'd probably be drawn to stare at him even if he wasn't required to by law of their friendship. It was as if he was putting on a play- there was something unique in every single thing he did. Whatever charm it was, it was entertaining enough for Gale, who felt comfortable enough to meld into the warm walls and tattered seats and watch when the hour turned early instead of late.
Unfortunately, too much thinking had left him distracted, and he hadn't noticed his eyes squinting shut until he was shaken awake by one of the other guys.
"The rest of us are leavin', you gonna take him back?" He motioned at John, who was currently supporting the majority of his body weight on the bar.
His eyes darted between the man and Bucky, who briefly looked up and gave him the toothiest of smiles. "Yeah," He said. "I got him."
Gale heaved himself up, preparing himself for the momentous task of half-carrying a six-foot-two man to wherever they had left the Jeep. Bucky still had that smile on when Gale reached him, and without hesitation, shifted his balance over to Gale with an arm over his shoulder.
"Did you see me kill that guy in darts, Buck?" He asked, eyes on Gale's as he focused on getting them out the back door.
Gale felt a half smile split his face. No matter who else saw it, it was always his opinion that John cared about most. "Yeah, I saw it."
"I mean, I was like six drinks deep and could still aim better than him! 'M not even a gunner! Oh, wait, let's stop-" John stumbled out of Gale's arm, bracing himself against the back wall of the pub they'd stepped out of, before realizing he actually could stand up straight on his own.
"Come on, you cheater," Gale said. "Havin' me drag you all the way out when you could've just followed me."
"Can't blame me for wanting to have a handsome man carry me out in his arms, can you?"
Gale noticed as Bucky's grin got wider, his eyes almost closed. He hoped that meant he could barely see the way Gale sighed good-naturedly in response to his aimless flirting. They stood for a moment in the grass, turned mud from the constant bouts of rain in England, while John attempted to regain sobriety by taking slow breaths of the cold night air.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You're drunk, Bucky." Gale had his hands in the pockets of his jacket, refusing to entertain whatever John was hinting at; it always led them to some terrible moment that would cause Gale's chest to sink into his stomach.
"Can I ask you to dance with me?" John held his hand out, shaking slightly, face all lit up and laughing like nothing about this all was serious.
"What are you doing?" They had had this conversation before, tones of it, Bucky always relying on Gale to put up the pretense of a no.
"There's no one out here, Buck."
"It's late, and you're drunk."
"Yeah, but I wanna dance with you." His hand was wobbling even more as he continued to hold it out, and Gale finally reached out and took it, just to still him. Just to still him. John's eyes held childish glee, a kid getting what they wanted after asking long enough. He took this acknowledgment as consent to move forward, placing his other hand on Gale's shoulder.
Gale had felt Bucky's touch a million times- that was practically how he communicated, but there was something different about it when there was no one else around. There was nothing to stop John from pulling him closer, nothing to stop Gale from letting him.
Lit only by the single light outside the pub, surrounded on all other sides by a black night, Gale moved when Bucky began. Each step felt to him as if they were moving further from a point they could turn back from. He wasn't really thinking, though. It was all just: Bucky's hands are so warm, and he's gorgeous, but he's real awful at this, and, ridiculously, that perhaps Meatball was a better dancer, as he had suspected all along. He'd wished, among the many times they had both been dancing with beautiful women, but women nonetheless, that he could've been dancing with John, and here John was, refusing to let himself be led despite how terribly he was falling over his own feet. It was everything he'd ever imagined.
"We're great at this," John said, and then he started humming. It was a song Gale didn't recognize… but Bucky could say anything and Gale would like it, stupidly. He felt himself smiling, unwillingly feeding John's ever-growing ego.
As they danced- light on the 'danced'- John pressed himself in closer to Gale until they were chest to chest. Gale barely wanted to breathe, praying he would keep so still the moment would last forever. Their arms wrapped around each other, swaying to the sound of Bucky humming softly in Gale's ear, only for him to hear. Him and the empty night. And it was so good, and so safe, and safety was something he hadn't felt in a very long time.
John was only slightly taller than Gale, although he made sure to remind him of this often, but this made him the perfect height to rest his forehead down on Gale's shoulder. A shudder whispered through his body, emanating from the point of contact John had made in the crook of his neck.
Gale was not sure if he could physically handle this- their bodies so entwined it was like they were almost one being; hell, they were sure moving as one. He was staring off into the dark over John's shoulder, and wishing it hadn't taken him getting so very drunk for John to build up the confidence to ask.
And then his voice gave up, and it plunged them into silence. There were not many animals, noise-makers, that hung around air force bases, but Gale could hear the leaves rustling. He could hear Bucky breathing.
"Will you come back with me, now?" Gale whispered. He was dead tired, and he knew John was too. His body chilled as John pulled off him, dropping his hand. They looked at each other for a moment, until the eye contact became too much to bear. Gale grabbed John's upper arm and steered him towards where they had left the Jeep, tucked into the side of the road a few minutes away. He thanked God for the moon.
John was uncharacteristically quiet on the way back, but Gale tried to chalk it up to the hour, and not to what had just happened, what they were both going to try and ignore. There was no way, he concluded in the silence, for him to tell Bucky how much he desperately wanted the comfort of his body all the time. How he didn't want to just leave what they'd created with their arms and their hands, something that was quiet and hurt nobody.
As they were almost back to base, John finally spoke.
"I can't let you keep… letting me," he started. "You're too nice, Buck. And you're lettin' me take advantage of you, and I gotta stop."
Gale stopped short, jolting him and John forward in their seats. No one else was on the road but them. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm just used to getting what I want," He smiled, cheekily, like he would with any of the girls who thought he'd go home with them. "But I like you so much that I keep wanting more. And you're you, and you give it to me. But it's not enough, Buck, and we both know it. So I-"
"Bucky, what the fuck are you talking about?" Gale reached out and turned John's face until they were staring straight at each other.
"I know- I've been thinking about that too, that we're probably gonna die, so why shouldn't I just do whatever I want, right? Why give up on being close to you now when I might not have much time left? But I respect you too much, Buck, to keep using you." He was rambling, and it was making less and less sense to Gale, who thought they were mostly on the same page without saying anything. He was also incredibly beautiful when he was so animated, and he'd sobered up enough to lose the laugh that hung off of each word when he was drunk.
"Bucky, I'm so damn tired, and I don't know what you're saying to me, but you can't- just not be near me. I need to be around you. You're the only thing that makes me feel like I'm doing something right." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. " 'Cause I know we're killing people, Bucky, every time we go up. And I can't deal with any of that without you, knowing you're here too. And I like you so much that I don't understand how you didn't know that."
It was a second before John leaned across the gap in the seat and kissed him, and another second before Gale registered it and kissed him back, adrenaline shooting through him, making his hands shake. And it felt-
"Is that somethin' right?" John asked into his lips, so they didn't have to pull apart and look at each other.
Gale pressed his lips into John's smile in response. He felt strong enough to pull Bucky into him by his uniform collar, strong enough to hold him tight against his skin until they'd each gotten sick of the taste of the other. But he did not do any of that, because he could feel the night sky looking down on him, a reminder of where they were.
"Do I get to kiss you tomorrow?" John asked when Gale pulled back- enough, perhaps too much, self restraint for the both of them.
"Long as I get to be the big spoon." He started the car, driving with one hand as the other found itself in Bucky's. He knew that they had to survive the war, first, before they could think about sharing a bed, but… John's mouth had just been on his, and he never really thought all that clearly around him, apparently.
"If I'm sleeping with you, who's keeping Curt warm?"
"Way too soon for that, Bucky."