Work Text:
It was late and the apartment was dark when Bucky finally returned home. He wobbled on his feet as he shut the old door behind him, wincing at its loud creak. He took a moment to slip off his boots, taking care to keep them out of the center of the hall, but he stumbled over them anyway as he crossed the short distance to the bedroom. Before entering, he paused in the doorway, letting out a long breath when he saw Steve's slight form buried under the blanket. He stepped over and sat on the edge of the bed, and the old boxspring creaked under his weight.
Steve stirred slightly and immediately nuzzled into Bucky’s arm where he'd pressed it into the mattress. “Hey,” Steve said, a slight wheeze to his voice. He’d just gotten over a particularly bad bout of whooping cough.
“Hey,” said Bucky, all soft. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“S’okay,” Steve mumbled, pressing his face more firmly against Bucky’s forearm. “Wanted to see you.” Bucky shifted more of his weight onto the bed before moving his hand up to cradle Steve’s face. Steve’s breath, still warm with sleep, tickled his palm.
Bucky held his breath for a moment, then caressed Steve’s cheek with his thumb before pushing his hand up over Steve's face and through his hair. Steve rolled his head to the side, giving Bucky better access to his fine blond locks. Bucky loved carding his fingers through it, and with the way Steve pressed up against his hand, Bucky figured he loved it, too.
He paused, for just a second. “...m’leaving tomorrow." There was something about his tone, a slight waver which seemed to make Steve blink himself into a more wakeful state and look up.
“...I know,” Steve said. He lifted a hand and gently wrapped his fingers around Bucky’s wrist, holding him there against his face. “S’okay. You’ll come back.” His voice was quiet.
Bucky’s lips curved up into a small smile. “You’ll see me off, right?”
Now it was Steve’s turn to smile. He turned his face against the inside of Bucky’s arm. “‘Course I will. You’re my guy.” There was a pause as Steve breathed gently against the inside of Bucky’s wrist. “Don’t know how I’m gonna survive without you.”
Bucky hesitated. He hated those words, hated even their utterance. He leaned down slightly, hunching over Steve now, as if he could shield him from all the bad that may happen while he was away. “...Don’t say that. You’ll be ok. Maybe you can get a job as a typist, like those gals across the hall.”
Steve was silent for a second. Bucky figured Houdini might’ve been wrong about psychics, the way he very nearly exactly predicted the next words out of Steve’s mouth. “Or maybe I can try to enlist again, join you over—”
“No. No, Steve.” Bucky looked down at him, his eyes worried. “I know you wanna do your part. There’s lots you can do on the homefront. Probably more help then I’ll be over there, truly. And I can—I’ll see to it that all my wages make it back to you, here. I…” Bucky paused, looking for the words. Steve shifted slightly, his gaze soft. Bucky was overtaken by the urge to kiss him sweetly, softly, but instead he just pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow. “Maybe I want something to look forward to when I get home.”
“And a really good hotdog ain’t enough?”
Bucky let himself smile. “You’re a real card, you know that? …No. Gonna take a little more than that to get me through wartime.”
Something in Steve's demeanor shifted, then—he blinked and screwed up his mouth, all confused-like. He took his hand off Bucky’s arm and instead drew both of his own arms up to Bucky’s shoulders, attempting to pull the larger man down. Bucky grinned despite himself—even if a 100-mile gale were on his side, Bucky wasn’t sure Steve’d be able to forcefully move Bucky in any direction. It was a lucky thing he would never have to. Bucky’d go where Steve wanted him. Bucky let himself be drawn down, and Steve tucked himself into the crook of his neck. Bucky immediately put a hand on the back of Steve’s head, gripping a little tighter than he ought to. Steve didn’t complain. If anything, he pressed a little closer, his lips ghosting against the side of Bucky’s neck.
“I’d stay with you if I could. And I’d give anything to be able to bring you with me.” He let himself imagine it, briefly: fighting side by side with his best pal, his lover, his soulmate. It was a great, terrible fantasy.
“...it’s a good thing you’re going, Buck. At least one of us…” Steve sounded a little indignant, but he shifted, relaxing into Bucky’s arms and pressing a little closer. “You’ll do more good over there than you would here, protecting me…” he grumbled.
Bucky’s arms tightened, slightly. He felt Steve wheeze from the added pressure and immediately loosened again, although he knew Steve wouldn’t’ve said anything, was probably happy to be wrapped up so tight. “Protecting you’s half the reason I’m goin’ over.” He moved back a bit, so he could see Steve’s face.
Steve’s beautiful blue eyes were kind in gaze, but his expression was serious. He ducked back against Bucky’s chest after a moment. “It’s so… unfair, Buck. I wanna fight as bad as anyone. Not even fight—I want to defend. I want to help. Maybe, just once, I wanna protect you, Bucky.” He pressed his cheek against Bucky’s chest, his ear right next to his heart. His hands gripped the back of Bucky’s shirt tight.
Bucky felt a pang of guilt, suddenly. “I know, Steve.” Steve had never been able to back down from a fight, as frail as he already was. Something inside him was called to truth, and to justice. Bucky pressed his lips to the crown of Steve’s head, feeling interminably guilty and relieved that Steve would never see war. “Maybe you’re meant for something even greater than being a footsoldier. The real honor’s in doing what you can for your country, sweetheart. Even if it’s not carrying a gun.” For a second time, Bucky pulled Steve back from his chest and looked down at his sweet face. He pressed a kiss to each of Steve’s eyelids, eliciting a giggle from Steve.
“Quit it,” Steve mumbled, but he was smiling.
“I’ll write you whenever I can. And you gotta promise to write me back, as often as possible, ok, baby? Send some drawings, too.” Bucky held Steve’s face in his hands. He pressed his forehead against Steve’s, looking directly into those big baby blues. His tone was light but his face was grim, searching Steve’s eyes. “And… promise me you won’t try to enlist again. You shouldn’t lie your way into the army.”
Steve was quiet for a moment. “...Okay.”
Bucky knew he was lying. He smiled anyway and moved forward, pressing his lips against Steve’s. Steve sighed into the kiss, practically glueing himself to Bucky’s front. His hands were still tight on Bucky’s back.
Bucky broke off first, just wanting to look at Steve’s flushed face, but Steve was the first to speak. “You’ll come back.”
Bucky smiled, as soft as all get out. “‘Course I will. You gotta know, babydoll, when I’m out there, it’s your sweet kisses I’m fighting to come home for.”
The way Steve’s smile lit up their dark bedroom made Bucky wish all the Nazis in the world would get sucked into hell right then and there, so Bucky would never have to leave his side.
Bucky tucked him close again. “Go back to sleep, baby.” He pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s forehead, and then a couple more, just ‘cause he couldn’t help himself. “We still have one more night.”