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Bucky is caught in that moment between being awake and being asleep. He can feel himself beginning to drift off, but he wants to stay awake to ring in the new year with Steve. To wish and hope for all of the things they’ve always wanted, optimistic and brilliant with possibility.
HIs legs are tangled with Steve’s and he can feel Steve running the instep of his foot along his calf. Steve’s feet are warm, a far cry from what they used to be, and Bucky smiles thinking about the blocks of ice Steve used to slip between his legs like Bucky wouldn’t notice.
Steve’s fingers brush against Bucky’s smile. “What’s that for?”
“Mmm.” Bucky smiles wider. “Just thinkin’ about your cold feet. And how you used to always try to sneak them between mine like it wouldn’t wake me up the minute you did it.”
Steve laughs, low and quiet. “I wasn’t exactly stealthy, was I?”
“You were the literal worst.”
Steve moves his feet between Bucky’s, the warmth of them comforting against his skin and making him feel solid, grounded.
“Sorry ‘bout that.”
“I was always happy to warm you up.” Bucky laughs a little knowing Steve will call him on his bullshit and the fact that he bitched about it all the time.
“Liiiies.”
Bucky loves Steve’s face so fucking much right then, it’s fond and exasperated all at once and so completely Steve it’s beautiful. Almost beyond belief. Bucky knows he’s lived longer than he should have, knows he’s been thrown out of time, but he knows, too, that it was all for this. Everything he was and has been brought him to this bed where he can stare at Steve’s stupid face and never feel lost or far away again.
“Those were good days,” Bucky says.
Steve reaches out and takes Bucky’s hand in his, turns it over and traces his fingers over its palm. “These are good days too,” he says.
“They are,” Bucky agrees. “Aren’t we a couple of lucky schmucks?”
“I got you, I’ve always been lucky.”
“Apparently getting laid combined with New Year’s Eve makes you the sappiest asshole alive.”
Steve laughs. “I’m sappy? You think I can’t hear the shit you say to me when we’re fucking?”
“That doesn’t count. No one can be held accountable for the things they say when they have a happy dick.”
“Oh, is this a recognized condition?” Steve asks. “Happy Dick Syndrome?”
“HDS, yes. It’s a serious problem and you shouldn’t make fun. You’re the reason I’ve got such a bad case of it.”
“So my sweet ass is to blame?”
“And your mouth, don’t forget your mouth,” Bucky says. “Those hands of yours, your gorgeous tits —”
“Oh my God, Bucky.” Steve laughs and shoves at his shoulder. “You’re so full of shit, that ridiculous mouth of yours.”
Bucky doesn’t say anything, just smiles at Steve and lets him laugh at him. His heart is so full of Steve, so full of love he can’t say anything so he doesn’t bother to try. Steve notices he’s not saying anything and stops laughing to just smile back, so many years of knowing between them.
Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand and reaches out with his other hand toward the nightstand behind him. He comes back with one of his drawing pens. He slides his hand from the back of Bucky’s down to his wrist and holds it gently as he writes, be present in his fantastically messy scrawl across the inside of Bucky’s wrist. The light scratching of the pen makes Bucky shiver.
Bucky looks down at the words and up at Steve.
“One of my New Year’s resolutions.”
“Yeah?”
“Be present in the moment,” Steve says. “With you. Just like this.”
Bucky traces his fingers over the words on his wrist then takes the pen out of Steve’s hand and turns Steve’s wrist over to take his turn to write in his own blocky script.
ACCEPT THIS SIMPLE PEACE
Because it’s still difficult for Bucky to believe there’s such a thing. There’s still monsters at their door, but when it’s just the two of them there’s finally peace. It’s hard won, a bloody path, and Bucky needs to remind himself to be grateful for the moments that are simple and clear. Steve presses their wrists together, slides his fingers between Bucky’s, and just looks at him - his eyes soft, happy.
Steve takes the pen back, gently pushes Bucky onto his back and pulls down the sheets. His lips mouth a trail across Bucky’s stomach. Bucky closes his eyes as the pen ghosts over the skin.
feed your soul
Bucky wants to tell Steve he does that already, that he is his soul, but he knows Steve aware of that, this is just his way of reaffirming it to them both. Neither one will starve as long as they have the other.
SPEAK ONLY TRUTH is written at the base of Steve’s throat. Even if it hurts. Steve never wants to say the things that can wound, but those things need to be said too, sometimes even more than the others. Bucky whispers the words to Steve since he can’t see them. He kisses the words into Steve’s skin knowing they’ll always stay even when the ink fades away.
Bucky combs his fingers through Steve’s hair when he settles between Bucky’s legs, brushes his mouth against the exact spot on the inside of Bucky’s thigh that always sends an electric thrill running through the entire length and width of his body - to his fingertips and out his toes, prickles racing over his head and down his spine.
touch
Steve knows he only needs to write that, it says everything. The most beautiful thing in Bucky’s world since finding Steven again, finding himself, has been being touched with kindness and love. To simply be touched at all. He remembers now that touch is pleasure, touch is love, and it’s blinding in its simple joy.
The inside of Steve’s bicep gains the word, SHELTER.
stand proud down the center of Bucky’s back.
STAY FEARLESS across Steve’s chest.
Bucky wants to cover Steve’s skin in ink, word after word after word. Steve is so many things that the ink would overlap, the words running into each other as they’re absorbed by Steve’s skin and into his blood. Every beautiful thing he is safe inside of him.
But after a few more words Steve’s hands are greedy, his mouth thirsty, and they’re lost to other things. Steve’s still wet, open, they’ve been in bed for hours, and just like always they can never get their fill. There’s always a reach for more, a hunger so deep they’ll always have it for one another.
Bucky slides into Steve; holds him tight, as close as he can, Steve’s thighs tight around him, and he knows the words are slip sliding between them. Their skin getting slick with sweat, the words melting into each other until they’re both marked with each other’s words, made of the same vows and devotion.
Steve’s flopped across Bucky’s chest and when they hear fireworks cracking off in the distance Bucky leans in and whispers, ‘Happy New Year’ into Steve’s ear. Steve stretches, slowly moves away as he looks for the pen again. It’s worked its way underneath Bucky’s pillow. There’s ink everywhere by now; the sheets, their skin, smears and splotches that make them both smile at one another, and Bucky knows Steve is going to add one last thing.
The only clear words at the end of it all are written on Bucky’s chest, over his heart.
love
love
love