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Bucky isn't the best at being subtle. You'd think decades of being the Winter Soldier would help, but all that does is give him nightmares. Decidedly not a particularly desired effect.
All that aside and on the subject of not being subtle, Bucky finds himself staring at Steve again. Silvery azure eyes gaze longingly at the Captain, hoping to catch his bright baby blues. He rests his cheek on his knuckles, watching Steve discuss something with Natasha, who pretends to not notice Bucky looking at them.
Steve just genuinely doesn't notice, instead gesticulating vaguely and in a way that makes Bucky's gaze catch on how it makes his muscles move under his blessedly tight shirt. Gods above. He's so screwed.
Bucky swallows and tilts his head down until it hurts to keep looking up, trading the amazing view of America's golden boy for his own thighs. He knows it's useless, pining after someone that has always had his heart taken by another. He's seen the picture of Peggy that Steve always keeps on his person. He knows.
But even though he's painfully aware, he can't stop his own sorry heart from wanting.
He's brought out of his thoughts when the subject of his fantasies sits beside him, nudging him slightly in order to make room for himself at the table Bucky was haunting. He looks up, repressing the urge to shiver at the sudden proximity.
"Hey, Buck," Steve smiles, slinging an arm around his shoulders and tugging him close. His voice is gentle, like how it always is when he talks to Bucky. Too gentle, too kind. It's almost like he cares about Bucky a little more than everyone else, and the mere, mildly delusional thought often keeps Bucky up at night. "Everything alright?"
Bucky nods, fiddling with the seam on his shirt. "As alright as usual. Everything alright with her?" He nods his head towards Natasha, who glances up from her phone with one brow raised.
Steve makes a dismissive gesture at her, and she shrugs and looks back at her phone. "Yeah. We were discussing dinner."
"We settled on that one Italian place nearby." She says, without looking up. She frowns at something on her phone. "You might know it. It's been around for a while."
"Not as long as we have, I bet." Bucky pokes Steve's shoulder teasingly, and the other man chuckles.
"Actually, this is one that you and I went to when we were kids," Steve ruffles Bucky's hair fondly. "Back when I was the size of your average string bean."
Bucky grins, subtly leaning into the affection. "Good times. I remember getting a lot more game back then. Nowadays, when given a choice between Captain America and me, anyone with a brain would pick you."
Steve shakes his head, his perfectly white teeth glinting in the afternoon light seeping through the windows of Stark's place. "C'mon, Buck, you know I'd choose you."
"Only 'cause you don't wanna fuck yourself." Bucky snorts, avoiding Steve's gaze because he's not sure if his face will betray how he feels.
Natasha glances up, observing the two with a calculating look. After a moment, she rolls her eyes and saunters out of the room, muttering something about "sexual tension" and "don't wanna be a witness".
Bucky can't decide if he's grateful that she left or utterly betrayed, but quickly lands on the former as Steve leans closer. The Captain guides Bucky's face up to meet his gaze with one gentle finger hooked under his chin, and it's all Bucky can do to not combust right then and there.
"Buck." Steve murmurs, his gaze so intense it almost hurts to look directly into his bright blue eyes. "Look at me."
"I'm, uh, I'm looking. Not sure I could look away even if I wanted to." He laughs lightly, but shuts up when Steve doesn't return the humor.
Steve doesn't move or speak for what feels like a few years but is really a few seconds. When he speaks, his voice is soft. "I mean it."
It's like the world stops right there.
The only thing that exists is them, Steve's pretty blue eyes and Bucky's stuttering breath.
Then the spell breaks, and Bucky looks away.
"Tell that to Peggy, alright?" Bucky chuckles, but his accompanying smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I appreciate the affection, but I know you only mean it to an extent." He pats Steve's cheek. "I'm fine, I promise. I don't need you to try to make me feel better."
There's silence between the two, and it almost makes Bucky regret what he said. Almost.
Steve looks at him for another moment, then sighs and wraps one arm around the soldier's shoulders, coaxing him closer until he can use both strong arms to hold him tightly. "Alright. Alright. I just... I wanted you to know that I'd pick you. Peggy isn't a part of the picture right now, which is why I didn't bring her up."
Bucky stiffens, still not quite used to being hugged, but eventually relaxes into the embrace. He tucks his face into the crook of Steve's neck, inhaling deeply. "Sure, bud. Whatever you say."
---
Dinner is awkward, but delicious. Natasha managed to wrangle Clint into going with them (neither Steve nor Bucky knew how), and the two chatted for most of the time. The sharpshooter and the assassin filled the silence that would fall over the table when it was time for the other two to talk, Bucky entirely too focused on eating his food and Steve apparently trying to break the world record for most pasta eaten in a single sitting.
After everyone declares that they're done, (Steve actually doesn't, Natasha just starts eyeing the waiter with more trepidation each time they come back with another bowl until eventually she waves them off) they order drinks.
(Steve gets something plain, Bucky gets a whiskey, Natasha gets a vodka, and Clint declines politely and orders coffee instead.)
Over drinks, Bucky finds himself feeling a bit more talkative, his tongue a bit loser after some alcohol gets into his system. Even though it's mostly a placebo affect, it's almost relaxing to be able to pretend for a while. He starts asking Steve to make sure his memories are all correct, to which Steve (very soberly, is he also unable to get drunk?) confirms or denies, until eventually Natasha gets sick of hearing the back and forth and insists that they talk about something else.
After another hour or so, Steve offers several bills to Natasha, then scoops up an exceedingly wobbly Bucky. "I think we're about done here. Thank you, Nat, for the dinner. I'm gonna take this guy home before he starts doing things he'll regret in the morning."
"'M not stupid, Steve." Bucky rolls his eyes, letting his head follow the action so he can look petulantly up at the ceiling. Steve props him up against his muscled chest.
"I know, Buck." He says, quietly.
Honestly, Bucky doesn't bother paying attention to what happens next, so he barely remembers leaving the restaurant. He recalls cuddling up against Steve in a car (a taxi?), but not much else.
What he does remember quite vividly, however, is the events that follow their return to his place.
Steve carefully deposits Bucky onto his couch, but is stopped from leaving when Bucky snags his metal fingers in Steve's shirt. He tugs the Captain close, not stopping until he has the man close enough to breathe in the scent of the alcohol he's unaffected by. Steve takes it in stride, humoring Bucky by kneeling in front of him and petting the other man's hair slowly.
"I really love you, man." Bucky mumbles, closing his eyes briefly under the light touch.
"I know."
"It... really hurts sometimes."
"Hm? What hurts?"
"My... Ah, no... You'll laugh." Bucky sighs and settles for nestling his face into the spot just under Steve's pecs.
"I won't laugh, I promise. What hurts?" Steve's voice is even, but Bucky doesn't need to see his face to know when he's frowning.
"I just... You know, for someone as smart as you, you really manage to be a dumbass sometimes," Bucky heaves another sigh, a bitter tone in his words. "I can't stand it."
Steve is silent for an excruciating few seconds. "Bucky, I know you can't get drunk."
Another silence. Bucky hesitates and chews his lip. "Yeah. I guess we're the same in that way."
"I also think you might underestimate me. I might not be able to list off quantum mechanics, but I know when someone has a crush on me."
At this, Bucky sits up, nearly colliding heads with Steve, who reels back just in time. "Are you crazy?" He spits, scooting back on the couch until he can't feel Steve's warmth anymore. He wraps his arms around himself, suddenly cold.
Bright blue eyes watch him move. "Maybe."
"You need to get your head out of your perfect ass, Cap," Bucky avoids the gaze like it burns him. It feels like it does. "I never said anything about having a... crush on you."
He feels childish. Childish for pretending to be drunk. Childish for lashing out. Childish for getting caught having a fat crush on his best friend... Gods above, this is awkward. This silence is really dragging out, isn't it? Should he say something? Honestly, he hasn't looked up in a hot second, Steve might've just left. Gods know the man could– he isn't a trained soldier if he can't move silently.
He glances up, a bit nervously, just to flinch when he finds himself mere inches from Captain America. Alright, nope. If he speaks, he's only going to regret whatever comes out of his mouth.
Steve reaches one hand up and cups Bucky's face gently, running his thumb along the stubble on Bucky's cheek. For a heartbeat, Bucky leans into the touch, savoring the heat radiating from Steve's hand and the caress of his breath on Bucky's skin.
Then he bats the hand away, brows knit together as he fights off an approaching headache. "Steve, I can't." He says, quietly. It hurts to speak around the lump in his throat, but it's not a pain he isn't used to.
"So you're telling me honestly," Steve begins, pulling his hand back and frowning at Bucky. "That you don't have a crush on me?"
Bucky winces. "Quit using that word. We aren't kids. It feels weird."
"Answer me, Buck."
He sighs, jaw tightening. "I plead the fifth?" He tries.
Steve inhales deeply, as if needing a moment to calm down, and Bucky averts his gaze so he can stare at his hand, holding his knees close to his chest. He lets his mind fill with incredibly unhelpful thoughts, most of which are accompanied by Steve's small smiling face from when they were both still regular people and general worries about whether he's about to lose his best friend over something as stupid as his crush.
The next time Bucky looks up, he only has a second to notice the sudden proximity before he feels lips on his.
He freezes.
What is he supposed to do? Should he kiss back? Should he move his hands? Should he pull away? His eyes aren't closed, but he can't see anything beyond his racing thoughts. Steve... Has surprisingly soft lips. Actually, no– it's no surprise America's golden boy is perfect there, too.
The kiss is over as quickly as it started, and Steve leans back, tilting his head back slightly to regard Bucky from a different angle. "You feel like answering me now?"
"...Is this an interrogation or something?" Bucky says, after he subtly catches his breath.
"No." Steve's eyes flick down to Bucky's mouth, squinting as if making a mental note of something. "I was hoping that might give you some insight, since you looked like you might need it."
Bucky pauses, frowning. He licks his lips, and doesn't miss how Steve's gaze catches the action.
...Wait a godsdamnned minute.
"You like me?" Bucky exclaims, a bit louder than he meant to.
Steve inhales slowly, then bursts out laughing. "That... took you a while." He wheezes out, between giggles.
Bucky's jaw drops, utterly flabbergasted. "What- What about–"
"She's gone, Buck." Steve interrupts. "And anyways, it's what she would've wanted. I've... I've liked you ever since I met you, truth be told."
"You're lying."
"Haven't done that in a while. Not my talent anyways."
"You..." Bucky stares at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving. "You're... Crazy."
"You said that already." Steve smiles, affection filling his expression. Oh dear. That's... Genuine affection. Bucky suddenly feels a lot more nervous than before. If anyone had told him that his best friend of the past century liked him back, he would probably call them stupid. Except now, the man himself just said it, and Bucky can't decide if he wants to believe it.
He knows Steve isn't a liar, and that just makes it all worse.
Bucky tentatively reaches out with his right hand, and Steve takes it and guides it up to his face. He presses a soft kiss to Bucky's palm, maintaining eye contact and not saying a word.
Bucky wonders if he should stop staring, but he's never been inclined to stop before, why should he start now? Anyways, Steve doesn't seem to mind, soaking up the attention like he lives off of it. Steve is a pretty man, and the longer Bucky stares, the more insecure he feels. It's like he hasn't aged a day– perfect hair, chiseled jawline, shining eyes, straight white teeth.... And Bucky is just...Bucky.
As if he can read his mind, Steve tilts his head, frowning slightly. "You alright, Buck?"
Bucky blinks. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just... thinking."
"Mind filling me in?" Steve asks, his voice gentle.
"You–"
"I won't laugh."
"That's not what I was gonna say, but thanks." Bucky sighs. He's tempted to pull his hand away, but he likes the way Steve holds it close. He gestures vaguely with his metal arm instead. "I'm just still... Reeling, I guess. 'Cause, like, there no way you really like me like that, you know?" Yikes. This conversation keeps feeling more and more like one he would've had on a playground.
"I like you a lot," Steve says, sounding a bit confused. "I always have."
"Well, yeah. I guess it's more like... I mean, c'mon," Bucky waves at himself, wincing. "Look at me."
"I am." Steve nods, eyes trailing down Bucky's body slowly, appreciatively. "What's your point?"
"Don't you think I'm a bit– I dunno– weathered?" Bucky scratches his cheek carefully with the joint in his one of his metal fingers. He looks down, at where Steve's knees meet the hard ground, and feels a spike of guilt for making the other man kneel in front of him for this long.
"Bucky. Look at me." Steve is quiet, his voice soft enough to nearly be considered a whisper. "I don't think you look weathered. You're beautiful." As he speaks, he reaches one hand up and brushes a few stray strands of hair out of Bucky's face.
"You say that to all the ladies?" Bucky closes his eyes briefly, sighing.
Steve shakes his head, cupping Bucky's cheek with one hand. "Only you."
"What about–" Bucky tries to say.
"Only you." Steve repeats, firmly.
There's silence between the two for a moment, then Bucky suddenly bursts into laughter. Steve shoots him a confused look.
"Who knew?" Bucky giggles, reaching up to hold Steve's hand to his face. His thumb caresses slowly along the blond's knuckles as he speaks. "Who would've known... that the little Brooklyn punk that could barely hold a conversation with a dame for more than ten minutes would be over here– a hundred years later– making an old man like me blush. It's hilarious, if you think about it."
Steve stares at him, then chuckles heartily. "You aren't wrong. It's a weird phenomena– I genuinely like someone, I muster up the courage to say what I really mean to." He shrugs, glancing at Bucky's hand on his and smiling slightly. "Sometimes, even, it works out. Crazy, ain't it?"