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Steve’s happy. Actually, he’s very happy. No, scratch that, he’s very very happy. He hasn’t stopped smiling for a while now, and his cheeks are probably sore from all the smiling, but since his face is numb he can’t feel it anyway, so everything’s swell. The walls are undulating gently in a breeze he can’t feel, which is a little odd, but hey, numb face, he doubts even a stiff breeze would register at this point. The sounds of the party swirl around him, chattering voices, pulsing music, laughter, surging back and forth and muted like ocean waves passing overhead.
He takes another sip of Thor’s Asgardian mead. It’s glorious. It tastes like apples, and sunshine, and warmth, and the feel of Bucky’s shoulder under his hand. Bucky... Who’s standing in a corner, talking to Sam, a sly smirk on his face. Whatever he’s saying has Sam cracking up, and Steve kinda wants to share the joke too. Maybe if he stares at Bucky’s lips hard enough, he can make out what he’s saying.
After a minute of intense concentration, about all he’s made out is that Bucky’s lips are really really pink. Like he’d been eating strawberries, and stained them with the deliciously tart berry juice. Bucky loves strawberries, and now Steve gets to buy him all the strawberries he wants. Steve loves watching Bucky eat strawberries, the way he savors them, and licks his lips to get at every last drop of juice. It makes Steve happy that Bucky still enjoys strawberries the way he used to, even after everything. Another thing that hasn't changed is his distracting habit of chewing on his lips when he’s nervous.
The way he’s doing now, actually.
Steve looks up from Bucky’s pink pink lips and, whoa, he’s staring right into Bucky’s eyes, his beautiful sometimes grey, sometimes blue eyes. Like really right into them. Steve’s practically on top of Bucky. When did he get so close? He turns back to check, and yes, the chair he’d been sitting in is still there, about thirty feet away and partially hidden by the crowd of people at Tony’s party. Huh.
Bucky’s looking at him with a quizzical expression on his face. “You okay?” he asks.
Having Bucky back and still worrying about Steve fills him with so much emotion that he just wants to… Steve throws his arms around his pal, his best friend, the best thing in his life, back with him once more, changed but still the same in all the most important ways.
Bucky makes a little ‘hnngk’ sound and reels back a little at the impact.
Oops. Maybe he shouldn’t have rested his full weight on Bucky without warning. Or maybe he’s hugging him too tight. But then Bucky’s arms come up around him to hug him back and he says “Hey, Stevie” right next to Steve’s ear and everything’s perfect. No, wait. Steve buries his head in the curve of Bucky’s neck, nosing his hair aside, and breathes in his warm, comforting scent. Now everything’s perfect. He’d missed this. He hadn’t even realised how much until he’d got it back.
“Okaaay…”
Steve opens his eyes and Sam’s amused face swims into his field of vision. It takes a moment for Steve to register that Sam is bent over at the waist so he can stare up at him. “Sam!”
“Man, you are drunk,” Sam says. Sam’s eyebrows have shot way, way up. He looks kinda funny like that.
“I think you’re right,” Steve mumbles against Bucky’s neck. Bucky twitches and his arms tighten for a moment around Steve.
“Well, there ain’t no safer place for you than in the arms of your man Barnes, here,” he claps Bucky on the shoulder, “so I'm gonna, y’know, go over there.” He waves in the general direction of Nat, Clint and Thor.
“Gee thanks, Sam,” Bucky says dryly.
“Anytime, my man. Just helping a dude out.”
Steve gets the feeling he's missing some context to their conversation. He should probably ask one of them about it. Yeah. Maybe later. He heaves a contented sigh and leans a little harder on Bucky, who staggers back half a step. Bucky gives a low laugh and a shiver runs down Steve’s spine.
“Hey Steve, I think it's time to leave.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“Why not?”
“I wanna stay with you, Buck.” Steve tightens his arms around Bucky for good measure.
Bucky runs a reassuring hand down Steve’s back. “Of course I’m coming with you,” he says, sounding only a little strangled.
“Oh.” Steve loosens his hold with a little twinge of guilt. “That’s okay then.”
“Okay,” Bucky says.
Nothing happens. Which is fine with Steve, he’s perfectly happy where he is.
Then Bucky says, “You’ve gotta let go, Steve.”
Steve doesn’t want to let go. Bucky’s body feels so good pressed against his. So warm. Why’ve they never held each other like this before? Sure Bucky’d held him to keep him warm when he was sick, and they’d shared bedrolls to help keep each other warm during the war, but this is different. Their bodies fit together perfectly, chest to chest and hip to hip. He wants to… to… Bucky shifts in his hold so they’re standing side by side. Steve makes a protesting sound at the change in position.
Bucky’s eyes are warm with affection and amusement and a glimmer of something else that Steve can’t identify. “Come on, Steve. Put your arm over my shoulder.”
Steve grumbles a little but throws his arm over Bucky’s shoulder and pulls him tight to his side.
“That’s it,” Bucky says, and leads him away from the party.
___
There’s a soft ding and the lift doors open onto their apartment. Steve’s ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton wool after the din of the party. Bucky walks them into the kitchen and props Steve up against the counter. He presses a hand to the centre of Steve’s chest, pinning him there. “Don’t sit down. You won’t wanna get up if you sit down.”
“Okay.” Steve nods his head enthusiastically to make sure Bucky knows that Steve knows that-- he stops. The walls aren’t so much undulating now as kind of tilting wildly and Steve would very much like them to stop.
“Idiot,” Bucky says with a smile. He holds out a glass of water to Steve. Steve downs it in a couple of gulps and puts the glass on the counter with a slight rattle because the counter won’t keep still.
Bucky gives a satisfied nod. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
Bucky’s words aren’t really registering because he can’t stop staring at Bucky’s lips. They’re so pink. And just… the perfect bow shape of them, the slightly fuller lower lip, with a hint of a pout. He knows those lips so well. Just like he knows Bucky’s face. And his hands and his arms, both flesh and metal. He’s drawn them all so many times. He has sketchbooks full of Bucky, stretching from his childhood to the present.
By now, Steve can draw Bucky’s lips by heart. But he doesn’t know what they feel like. They look so soft. He really wants to know what they feel like. He leans forward and presses his lips to Bucky’s. He nearly groans at the sensation. They’re a little firmer than he expected, but he likes it, and they’re so warm. That, he hadn’t anticipated.
He licks at them because now he wants to know how they taste. They part on a shocked inhale and Steve slips his tongue into the warm cavity of Bucky’s mouth. When Bucky’s tongue slides against his own, hot and slippery, somebody moans. Steve’s not sure who, maybe it was both of them.
Steve turns them around, nearly losing his balance in the process, and presses Bucky back against the counter with his hips a little harder than intended. A bolt of pleasure shoots through Steve at the pressure and he gasps. He tangles his hand in Bucky’s hair and tilts Bucky’s head back, he needs to get deeper. Bucky's hands settle on his hips and their kiss turns carnal, tongues mimicking the rhythm of coitus. Steve feels flushed with heat, surrounded by the taste and scent and feel of Bucky, drowning in sensation, but still wanting more. He can’t get enough. He slides his hand up the back of Bucky’s shirt, calloused fingertips dragging against Bucky’s skin.
Bucky whispers fuck and pulls back. Steve tries to reel Bucky in for another kiss, but Bucky places a restraining hand on his chest, their ragged breaths sounding loud in the quiet of the apartment.
“Wait, Steve,” Bucky says, his voice sounding a little rough. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Of course I know what I’m doing, Buck,” Steve growls. “I’m kissing you.”
“Oh boy,” Bucky mutters. He scrubs a hand over his face. “We need to stop. Please.”
Steve wants to cry, he wants to beg, he wants to plead. He doesn’t want to stop. Ever. But there’s nothing he won’t do for Bucky, so if Bucky wants him to stop, he’ll stop.
“Okay, Buck. Whatever you say.” He untangles his hand carefully from Bucky’s hair and combs his fingers through the strands till they lie flat. Then he lets his arms drop to his side. Why doesn’t Bucky want to keep kissing him? It feels so good… and that hip thing that happened… he wants to feel it again. Bucky pushes him gently back and Steve is grateful Bucky doesn’t let go straight away because the floor’s not all that stable.
“Come on, Steve,” Bucky says. Steve follows.
When they get to Steve’s bedroom, Bucky manoeuvres him to the foot of the bed and pushes him back. Steve wraps his arms around Bucky and pulls him along. Bucky lets out a little yelp as they fall onto the bed, Steve flat on his back and Bucky half on top of him.
“Bucky!” Steve’s happy again. Bucky’s still with him and this time, Steve’s hanging on to him.
Bucky makes a sound that’s not quite a groan and not quite a laugh. “You gotta let go, Steve.”
No, that’s wrong. That’s all wrong. “I don’t wanna, Buck, I don’t ever wanna let go. Stay here with me, Buck. I won’t try to kiss you again, I promise.”
Bucky gives a little sigh and Steve wants to crow with triumph. He knows that sigh… It’s the sound of Bucky conceding defeat. A hand brushes the hair off his forehead. “Okay, pal. I’ll stay.”
Finally. Finally, Steve can relax. Bucky shifts in the circle of Steve’s arms until his head is pillowed on Steve’s chest. Steve blinks up at the ceiling. He likes the way the walls of the room curve in around them, like the furled petals of a flower, hiding them from the world. It's a really neat trick.
He wriggles around a bit, trying to get comfortable. “Bucky?”
“Yeah, Steve?”
“My pants are too tight.”
Bucky buries his face in Steve’s shoulder and his body shakes with silent laughter. Steve hugs him tight and feels suffused with a warm, golden glow, like he’s taken another shot of Thor’s mead. Once the shaking stops, Bucky slips out from under Steve’s arms, the feeling of Bucky’s body sliding against his doing interesting things that make his pants feel even tighter.
“Might as well get you all the way comfortable,” Bucky says. He pulls Steve upright. “Arms up.”
Steve obediently raises his arms so Bucky can pull his shirt off. Bucky tosses it aside and pushes Steve back down onto the bed. The room wobbles around a bit before going back to slowly spinning on its axis.
Bucky takes a deep breath before reaching for Steve’s belt buckle. Steve watches Bucky’s deft fingers working at his buckle and the fastenings of his pants. The warm glow has transmuted into a heated flush that flows like warm honey over his skin. He can’t stop staring at Bucky. The dim light from the doorway causes shadows to pool in the hollows of his cheeks and he looks mysterious and dangerous and new. Steve wants to explore that newly unfamiliar face with his fingers, to reacquaint himself with his old friend seen in a different light.
Bucky’s eyes flick up to his and his fingers still as they stare at each other for a suspended moment. Steve starts to lift his hand to Bucky's face. No. He promised. He sighs and drops his head back onto the pillow.
Bucky goes back to working at his pants. After a lot of swearing and wriggling, the pants finally come off. Bucky tugs the bed covers out from under Steve and they both slide under the covers. Steve helpfully lays his arm straight out so Bucky can tuck himself against Steve’s side.
“Now can you sleep?”
Steve pulls Bucky close and gives a contented sigh. A thought occurs to him. “Bucky?”
“Yes, Steve?”
“Aren't your pants too tight?” Steve knows for a fact that they’re tight. The serum gave him perfect recall, after all.
There's a long pause. “You know what, Steve? They are.”
Bucky climbs out of bed. Steve savors the sight of Bucky, shadows accentuating the way muscles shift under skin as he tugs his shirt over his head and bends to pull off his pants. His metal arm gleams softly in the low light.
This time, when Bucky gets under the covers, there’s nothing separating them except for their boxer briefs. Steve wants to arch his back like a cat at the slide of Bucky’s body against his. Bucky's skin feels like heated silk. Steve rearranges Bucky so he can be the big spoon to Bucky’s little spoon to get the maximum amount of skin contact. He wraps his arm around Bucky and then slides his top leg between Bucky’s legs for good measure. Bucky’s breath hitches a little.
“Now can you sleep?” Bucky’s voice is bone dry, if a little choked.
“Mmmmmmm…”
Bucky snorts. “That sounds like a ‘yes’.” Bucky covers Steve’s arm with his own. “G’night, Steve.”
“G’night, Buck.”
The heat of Bucky’s body is drugging and the gentle spinning of the room is lulling him to sleep. He buries his nose in Bucky’s hair and breathes in. He feels like he’s finally home...
___
He wakes up surrounded by luxuriant heat. Every part of his body feels well-rested and boneless and suffused with well-being. No hangovers from Asgardian mead, evidently. He should thank Thor for bringing some for him. It’s the first good buzz he’s had since before the serum. It’d helped him loosen up and enjoy the party last night.
Last night…
Fuck.
He turns his head to check, and… fuck. There’s a tangle of dark brown hair just peeping out from under the covers.
He’d… he’d been all over Bucky last night. Every memory is clear as crystal in his mind. He’d grabbed at Bucky and refused to let go, kissed him and even made him take off both their pants. Steve had crossed so many lines. And Bucky, with that grace and generosity of spirit that even Hydra couldn’t take from him, had humored him and taken care of him like he’d been doing for most of their lives.
And as if taking advantage of Bucky’s kindness wasn’t bad enough, now he can’t stop thinking about the slippery slick heat of Bucky’s lips, and the way Bucky’s skin felt against his own, warm skin against warm skin. The possibility of something more between them had never even occurred to Steve. But after last night, he doesn’t see how he can go back to seeing Bucky as just a friend.
But honestly, had he ever really? Hadn’t he always been far more aware of Bucky than of anyone else? The only person who’d even come close to holding his attention in the same way was Peggy.
All those hours and hours spent watching Bucky, and drawing him in loving detail, should’ve maybe given him a clue. And he’d never looked too closely at that odd prickling sensation he’d felt whenever he saw Bucky with one of his dates. All he knew was that he only felt right when it was just the two of them again.
He’s fucked. He’s so fucked. Please, please let him not have fucked up their friendship as well. Steve wants to crawl into a hole somewhere and hide for another seventy years. But Bucky deserves better than that. He only hopes that Bucky will forgive him and that they can get past this. Whatever Bucky needs him to do to fix things, he’ll do. Just please let this be fixable.
There’s a rustle next to him. Steve turns to find Bucky staring up at him with wary eyes.
“Bucky, I’m so sorry,” he says, and then he stalls there. His heart is pounding so hard that he imagines this is how it feels to have a heart attack.
Bucky sits up, moving like he’s feeling every one of his hundred years. He doesn’t quite meet Steve’s eyes. “It’s okay, Steve,” he says, voice soft and tired. “You were drunk last night. I know it didn’t mean anything.” His shoulders curl in a little and he swings his legs off the bed.
No. No, this is all wrong, he can’t let Bucky go thinking-- He lunges across the bed to grab Bucky’s arm. “Wait, Bucky, I--”
Bucky hesitates, eyes shuttered. Steve scrambles into a kneeling position facing Bucky, possibilities swirling in his head. He feels like something fragile and precious is within his grasp, but one wrong move could lose him everything.
He slides his hand under Bucky’s metal hand where it lies on top of the bedcovers, and threads their fingers together. “It wasn’t nothing.” Bucky’s gaze drops to their joined hands. It’s a good sign that Bucky’s not pulling his hand away, right? It’s a small thing, but it gives Steve courage. “In fact, I think…” he falters. He’s laying his heart on the line and it’s fucking terrifying. “I think it might be everything.”
Steve ducks his head to get a look at Bucky’s expression. Bucky slants him a glance heavy with meaning, but his expression is unreadable. Bucky had gotten better at shutting Steve out after Azzano, but after Hydra, his mask is impenetrable. No one can tell what he’s thinking unless he wants them to, not even Steve.
“I crossed a line, Buck. I shouldn’t have kissed you without asking first, and I’m so sorry for that.” He hopes Bucky can hear just how sorry he is.
“Why’d you kiss me?” Bucky asks softly.
It's Steve’s turn to look down. He freezes when he realizes his thumb is rubbing little circles into Bucky’s hand, but he starts up again because why the hell not, he’s got nothing left to lose by this point. “I think I might've always wanted to, but I just didn’t figure it out till last night. In retrospect, a lot of things make more sense to me now.”
“The way you used to draw me?”
That startles a laugh out of Steve. “Yeah, actually. ”
“I always wondered about that.”
Steve shrugs. “You’re a good-looking guy, Buck.”
“You used to draw me a lot.”
Steve shifts closer, encouraged by Bucky’s not-negative reaction. “I draw you a lot even now. You’re still the best looking guy I know.”
Bucky ducks his head at that, but Steve can see the little smile curling up the corner of his mouth.
“So what changed last night?”
“...I got drunk?”
Bucky laughs and Steve’s heart squeezes at the sight and sound of it. “Is that all it took, Stevie?” Bucky finally meets his eyes. “Hell, I should've gotten you drunk years ago.”
Wait. Does that mean--
Steve reaches up and threads his fingers through Bucky’s hair, pushing it back from that beloved face. Bucky’s face is soft with wonder and his eyes glow with that something that Steve’s never been able to put a name to.
Bucky’s so beautiful to Steve in this moment that his breath catches. “Bucky,” he whispers, feeling overwhelmed. He’s a fool. He’s such a fool. All this while, it'd been staring him in the face and he’d never even realized.
Bucky settles back on the pillow and sends him an enticing look from under thick lashes. “Are you gonna wait another seventy years to kiss me again?”
Steve chokes on a laugh. “You're an asshole, you know that?”
“Yeah, yeah. You still wanna kiss me though, right?”
Steve leans over him. “Yeah,” he breathes against Bucky's smiling lips. “Yeah, I do.”