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The low hum of the radio filled the barracks, a soft melody crackling from the old speaker Howard had gotten them.
Why he hadn’t swapped it for a new one? Guess he thought the old one had more character, part of his so-called fine ass taste.
They had just returned back from blowing up another HYDRA base, both of them running on fumes, 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 protein bars 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, and not a lot else.
Steve sat on his bunk, fiddling with his shield, the rhythmic tapping of his boots against the worn wooden floor keeping time with the music. His shoulders were tense, muscles wound tight from months of leading, fighting, and barely sleeping.
Bucky, across the room, was leaning against the window, watching the world outside, but his attention kept flicking back to a stiff-as-a-board Steve. The rest of the Howlies had scattered to handle their own business, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet, dimly lit room.
Bucky couldn’t quite shake the feeling that tonight was different. Something about the music, the stillness of the space—maybe it was just the way Steve held himself, like he was waiting for something to happen. He pushed off from the window, an idea starting to form in his mind.
The boat rides we would take
The moonlight on the lake
The way we danced and hummed our favorite song
The things we did last summer
I'll remember all winter long
"You ever thought about dancin'?" Bucky asked, his voice a little too casual, like it was just another random thought on a Tuesday night.
Steve blinked, his gaze flicking up from his shield. "What?"
Bucky smirked, stepping closer, his eyes glinting as he watched Steve’s puzzled expression. "Y'know, dancin'. It’s not like you’ve got much else to do, right?"
Steve laughed—a sound that was both light and self-depecrating—as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, but 'm pretty sure I’ve got two left feet when it comes to that stuff."
Bucky shrugged, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth— just that cocky smile of his. "Ah, don't worry about it, Stevie. I'll teach ya. How bad could it be?"
Steve shot him a skeptical look, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. "I think the real question is, how bad could 𝘺𝘰𝘶 make it?"
The midway and the fun
The Kewpie dolls we won
The bell you rang to prove that you were strong
The things we did last summer
I'll remember all winter long
Bucky chuckled, taking a step closer, his hand hovering in the air between them. "You won’t know until you try, Rogers."
Steve hesitated, glancing at the space between them. The soft music continued to play, an old tune that seemed almost made for this kind of moment. It was tempting, the idea of just stepping into it, of letting go. With a resigned sigh, Steve stood up, hands dangling by his side.
"Alright, Buck. Let’s see how much damage you can do."
Bucky’s grin widened, and without another word, he reached for Steve’s hand, pulling him into the center of the room. And in that quiet, dim-lit space, with the radio humming in the background, they began to move—Steve awkwardly at first, but with Bucky’s steady guidance, the tension melted away.
“Don’t think about it, Stevie,” Bucky murmured, his voice lost in the music. He pulled Steve closer, the two of them fitting like a missing puzzle piece—like they always had, despite the uncertainty of the world around them.
The early morning hike
The rented tandem bike
The lunches that we used to pack
We never could explain
That sudden summer rain
The look we got when we got back
Steve’s chest tightened as he looked at Bucky’s face. The dim light caught the edge of Bucky’s grin, that cocky, teasing smile that always seemed to make everything better (that seemed to brighten up Steve's world). They’d both been through hell and back in the past few... weeks? months? But for now, it was just the two of them, the soothing buzz of the music from the radio, and the warmth of their pressed bodies moving around them.
“You sure this is a good idea?” Steve’s voice barely broke through the music’s brass section.
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You think we’re gonna let the war take everything from us? We got one night, Steve. One night to be stupid. One night to be our old Brooklyn selves."
Like promises we made
How could a love that seemed so right go wrong?
The things we did last summer
I'll remember all winter long
Steve didn’t argue. He didn’t have it in him. Instead, he let Bucky lead him into the next turn, the rhythm of the dance pulling him away from the weight of the world. They’d be back in the trenches tomorrow, back to the chaos, but tonight? Tonight, they could pretend it wasn’t happening.
For once, it didn’t matter if Steve had two left feet. There was something in the way they moved together, something that felt like it had always belonged.
How could a love that seemed so right go wrong?
The things we did last summer
I'll remember all winter long