Chapter Text
Even if he wanted to, Steve wouldn’t be able to wipe the smile from his face as he sat on the grimy fire escape with Bucky at his side. The day had been perfect, even if Coney Island was especially crowded for the holiday, which always made things more uncomfortable for Steve, and Bucky had griped about some of the games being rigged and not having as much saved up as he had hoped, there was nothing Steve would change. Except for maybe letting Bucky convince him to ride the Cyclone, since he knew that it wasn’t going to end well for him before he gave in to Bucky’s pestering. But, as embarrassing as it was to spend the next few minutes clutching desperately at a garbage can and losing his lunch, Bucky’s apologetic smile helped to make things better the moment he saw it, and he’d be lying if he said that it didn’t feel good to have his best friend’s attention as he rubbed Steve’s back afterwards. Even Bucky’s initial laughter at his misery couldn’t cheapen the much more pleasant twisting of his stomach.
A day of hotdogs, carnival games, rides that made him sick to his stomach even thinking about, and warm salty air on his face was something Steve always looked forward to every year, ever since him and his ma first started the tradition, and something he enjoyed even more since Bucky was added to the mix. This year was their first time going solo, with Steve’s ma unable to get out of work and Bucky promising his sisters that they’d go some other time later in the summer instead.
The day had cooled down around them somewhere between leaving the park and getting back to Steve’s apartment, though the sticky humidity never seemed to loosen its grip on the city, so Steve and Bucky ended up taking their dinner outside to the fire escape, washing it down with a couple of beers that Bucky had reassured him several times his pop wouldn’t miss too much, and enjoying the nice weather as the sun lowered behind the buildings around them.
Steve was left feeling warm in a way that had little to do with the summer heat and everything to do with the feeling of his best friend pressed close to his side on the small platform. The buzz in Steve’s skull was comfortable, the weight of Bucky’s arm around his shoulders familiar in a way he knew Father O’Donoghue would’ve disapproved of, and the lasting joy of a day where everything had gone right left him feeling loose and relaxed, even when the first of the night’s fireworks went off in the sky.
He sunk into the warm feeling like a hot bath, relishing it as he tilted his head up to catch glimpses of the bright colors as they appeared in the sky. They didn’t have the best view from the fire escape, and usually Bucky would’ve spent his time before the sun set trying to convince Steve to climb up to the roof of the building instead, making promises that he would never let Steve fall and that the view would be better, and Steve always went with him, even if the view from the roof always made his stomach drop when he first saw it. But that didn’t happen tonight. Instead, Bucky just looked up with him, not mentioning where they might get a better view or standing up to drag Steve up the remaining ladders of the fire escape.
It probably had something to do with the beer, which Steve could already tell would leave him unsteady on his feet when he finally got around to standing up, and Steve could appreciate the irony that the one time he’d feel confident enough to follow Bucky to the roof without any hesitation would probably be the time he actually fell off it.
The evening drew on, and the sky grew darker behind the bright red, silver, and blue sparks. The bursts of color were closer together now, signifying the upcoming end of the show when Steve finally noticed that Bucky wasn’t looking up anymore. He wasn’t craning his neck to try to see them between the platform of the upstairs fire escape and the roof of the next building, instead, his eyes were leveled in Steve’s direction. It was weird. Not just weird, but unnatural for Bucky. He’d always loved the fireworks, even more than Steve, and was always so excitable about everything that caught his eyes. Steve couldn’t remember a single time where Bucky hadn’t spent the entire show staring up at the sky, oohing and awing at each explosion, and more recently jabbering about how they actually worked and how long fireworks have been used in celebrations around the world.
“Something wrong?” Steve asked, his voice strangely soft in the bubble the two of them existed in. Now that he was actually looking at Bucky, and not just feeling the weight of his eyes on him, he already knew that the answer was no. He didn’t look distressed or worried or upset. It was something Steve had never seen on his face before. Almost like how he looked when his attention drifted away while he was studying, with his brain catching onto something he read and running wild with it before being startled back to reality, but this was softer. Soft like when he was watching as Becca learned to braid her hair for the first time, or when Ruthie was talking about her first day of school. Like he was looking at someone he was proud of, someone he adored.
Bucky was still staring at him, not looking away for even a second, his attention complete, heavy on Steve’s skin. “Nah,” he said, his words just as soft as the look in his eyes. “Nothing’s wrong, Stevie.”
Steve licked his lips, feeling that same twisting in his stomach as he felt when Bucky laughed earlier, and when he smiled his apology, and when he’d grabbed Steve by the wrist while he lead the way through the crowd at Coney Island, determined to not lose Steve for a second, even when they finally stopped at one of the games Bucky was always so determined to beat. For the life of him, he couldn’t say what that feeling was, only that it was like when he was on the Cyclone, but gentler. Nicer. Pleasant, in a way, but uncomfortable in another. “Whatcha lookin’ at, Buck?” He was still quiet, still speaking gently, as though was afraid of scaring Bucky off like a skittish cat. “The fireworks are up there.” He nodded in the direction of the show, but he couldn’t really tell you why the fireworks were important anymore.
Bucky’s smile widened a little, growing a little lopsided in the way that it always was when it was genuine, like his face could never fully decide between a mischievous, knowing smirk and a blinding grin that could stop traffic. “I know,” he said, shifting a little bit closer to Steve, sealing away what little space there was between them like gaps in a window frame, like they didn’t belong. “But I got somethin’ better to look at.”
“And what, exactly, would that be?” Steve asked, his breath hitching in a way that had nothing to do with his lungs, and everything to do with the overly warm blush on his cheeks.
“Just this little punk with the prettiest eyes in all of Brooklyn.” Bucky didn’t blush, even as he spoke a line that must’ve been able to pull him as many dames as he wanted. He didn’t look like he was saying a line though, his eyes were shadowed in the low light of the night as it closed in around them, but Steve could’ve sworn they darted to his lips, watching with a steady, clear determination.
“Just in Brooklyn? You’re losin’ your touch if that’s the best you got, jerk.”
Steve didn’t know who moved first. He didn’t know if it was Bucky who closed the gap, or if he was the one that pressed himself to his best friend’s chest. He felt Bucky’s callused hand on his jaw, but he didn’t know if it was so Bucky could tilt his head up or to stabilize himself as Steve pressed his lips to Bucky’s.
It was sweet, it was soft, it was a little chapped, and tasted like beer and Bucky’s ma’s brisket with a hint of the tooth achingly sweet cotton candy they shared before heading home. Steve had one hand clutching tightly at Bucky’s shirt, his other on the back of Bucky’s neck, his fingers lacing in the hair at the base of his skull tugging a little as he desperately tried to hang on while Bucky kissed the life out of him, as he kissed Bucky like he needed it to live more than air in his lungs and blood in his veins.
Bucky held him close, held him gently, like he was something precious and worthy of care rather than fragile, and Steve couldn’t do anything other than melt into him, even when he pulled away to breathe.
Steve had never been kissed before by anyone other than his ma and Mrs. Barnes, but he couldn’t imagine any kiss being better than the one he just had. He was still clinging to Bucky for dear life, even as he caught his breath, Bucky’s hand still on his cheek, the other tracing the notches in Steve’s spine.
“You okay?” Bucky asked, but Steve knew the question wasn’t about his breathing. He still sounded so soft and gentle, like he couldn’t think of anything more important than Steve being alright.
Steve nodded, leaning into Bucky again and closing his eyes, breathing in the scent of skin and sweat and Bucky until he found his voice again. “Yeah,” he opened his eyes, looking up at Bucky’s face, a dopey smile on his lips. “I’m okay.”
Bucky nodded before pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I do have to head home soon,” he whispered, sounding mournful of the fact that he had to leave. “I’ve got a shift early in the mornin’.” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s nose, like he couldn’t stop putting his lips to Steve’s skin now that they’ve kissed. “But I’ll be free in the evenin’, if you’ve got time.”
He wanted nothing more than to ask Bucky to stay, to pretend that his ma wouldn’t be getting home any time soon, to kiss him more, to feel Bucky’s body beneath him as Bucky touched him like he meant something, like he was worthy of reverence. But Steve just nodded. “I’ve got time. Ma’s got a night shift tomorrow if you think you’ll be able to spend the night.”
There was a pause, and Steve almost wondered if he’d gone too far, made too much of an insinuation. Maybe that kiss didn’t mean the same thing to Bucky that it meant to him. Maybe things would be weird tomorrow and they’d stop being friends. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But Bucky just laughed, his lopsided grin taking its rightful place on his lips. “My ma told me about guys like you, Stevie. Only ever after one thing. You’ll have to work a little harder than that if you want my virtue.”
They were joking. This, more than anything else, made Steve believe that things were okay between them. That they were fine. That their relationship was going to change, but it was because it was growing, not withering under a night’s mistakes.
“If the rumors around school are even half true, then we both know you ain’t got any virtue for me to take.” Steve’s chest twinged a little at the thought of those rumors, of the girls that have supposedly been lucky enough to enjoy Bucky’s company without the oversight of a chaperone.
Bucky just grinned, standing up and gripping the railing of the fire escape to keep himself steady. “Guess you’ll just have to find out, wontcha?” He extended a hand for Steve to take. If it was anyone else, Steve wouldn’t have taken it. He would’ve clung to the fire escape and dragged himself to his feet the hard way, but he knew it wasn’t because Bucky thought any less of him, the same way he knew that Bucky hadn’t been so achingly gentle with him out of a fear of breaking him.
Steve took Bucky’s hand, grinning right back at him as he allowed Bucky to haul him up. “Guess I will.”