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People were looking. Steve was sure of it. And it was all Bucky's fault. Sometime during the night Steve had stopped counting how many times Bucky had called him this, and with each cheap glass of scotch he got louder. It was only Steve's second glass, which he only nipped on, before he slammed it down, turned around and left the bar Bucky had taken him. Once again Bucky had tried setting Steve up with a date so they all could enjoy some dancing, just that it ended like all the other dates before. They thought Bucky was friends with someone his league and not the scrawny looking guy that could still pass as a kid if they played it right.
So after the disappointment came the jokes and after the jokes the compliments, if anyone wanted call them that. His cheekbones, his eyelashes, his lips, the girls always telling him how jealous they were. All the other nights Bucky always stayed out of it, far too occupied with his own date to care. Not this night. This night he wrapped an arm around Steve, pulling him against his side and even danced with him for a whole song, ignoring the deep blush on Steve's cheeks and his pleas to stop and shrugging as Steve pointed out people were watching. Steve wanted to leave after the dance and to his surprise Bucky joined him. At the beginning it was just Bucky trying cheering Steve up, making a fool out of himself by recounting all the horrible dates he had been on. Of course Steve knew all of them by heart, ignoring with how much relief those stories filled him although the reasons were completely different than Bucky might thought they were.
But sometime, during those stories, Bucky started calling Steve dollface. He did it before, but in their own four walls where no one listened and Steve just punched him to make him stop. Outside it felt differently. The way Bucky said it sounded differently. It made Steve feel differently, allowing all the feelings he had locked up in the back of his heart to come knocking on his ribcage and asking if it was time to say the word and let Bucky know. Steve blamed it on the dance and compliments Bucky made earlier; everything seemed so honest and came from the heart and for a blissful moment Steve wanted to believe they were, that this was what Bucky truly felt for him. Now, though, at the bar and Bucky getting louder and people looking at them, Steve realized Bucky was still teasing him because he couldn't stop him. The short moment of bliss was shortly lived as Bucky called him once again dollface and the guy next to them snickered, giving them both a look Steve was too familiar with; one more word from Bucky, one wrong move from Steve and this would end in the back alley and a black eye. So before he could snap at Bucky for ruining everything or asking the guy if he had a problem, Steve bolted for the door, pushing through groups of people.
Although the air outside was cool and should have cooled him down, it did nothing to sooth his racing heart and boiling blood. Why would Bucky do this to him? Not that he had any idea what was going through Steve's mind whenever he sat too close, hand lingered too long, words sank into his skin. Bucky had no idea how little Steve was interested going on dates who were far too eager finding someone else to dance with, which served him just fine and gave him the chance to watch Bucky. Bucky dancing, twirling, smiling, sweaty.
"Steve!"
Steve did hear Bucky, but he didn't feel like slowing down; he would catch up either way, but for now Steve needed the bit of distance to get his emotions under control.
"Steve! Hey, Stevie! Wait."
Footsteps were coming closer and Steve heard Bucky stumbling over his own feet. While Steve was a lightweight when it came to drinks, Bucky could hold his liquor. Tonight, though, he seemed to struggle and Steve thought it served him just right. Another moment passed by, Bucky called out to him again, and then he felt his hand closed around his arm. Steve wasn't sure if he kept on holding on for leverage or Bucky wanting to make sure he would stay put in place, but the touch felt like it was burning through his jacket and scorching his skin. He was ready to pull back, but when he looked up at Bucky, ready to tell him to let him go, he was faced with the most confused look Steve had ever seen on Bucky's face.
"Why 're you runnin'?" Bucky slurred, looking as if someone just kicked his puppy.
"Let me go." It was all Steve could manage to say, not even struggling because he knew there was no use in doing so. Bucky was, due to his work at the docks, strong like an ox. And Steve was just, well, Steve.
"Nah ah, dollface, not before..."
"Don't call me that!"
The streets were nearly empty and the only couple passing them on the other side of the street was looking over. The man seemed even considering stepping in, but Steve only shaking his head and focusing back on Bucky, who, to his surprise, let go of his arm and took a step back.
"Call you what?"
"Dollface! Don't call me that. I get it, Buck. I'mma not lookin' anything like a guy should look like. I hear that everyday. I don't need that from my best friend as well."
For a short moment Bucky stared at him as if Steve had slapped him, wiped his nose on his jacket sleeve before he ran a hand through his hair. He looked so lost and Steve felt even sorry for him, not even sure if he would remember this conversation in the morning anymore. But then Steve reminded himself this was not about Bucky, but about him, about his feelings and how he needed to protect them so desperately before they would tear him apart.
Much softer, but just as serious, Steve explained, "You might not even realized it, I get it. Just stop,okay?"
He didn't give Bucky the chance to reply before continuing his way to their apartment. He didn't hear footsteps following or heading off into the other direction, but he didn't dare turning around and finding Bucky standing there on the sidewalk looking as lost as he did seconds ago. Maybe, Steve thought, it was about time for them to part ways. Maybe it was the only thing they could do to save their friendship, if Steve couldn't control his emotions any longer. He was debating with himself, thinking about the pros and cons, mulling over the words he could use to make Bucky understand this was the best for everybody.
The tricky thing with their living arrangement was, this was not only for Steve's benefit, no matter how many times Bucky tried to make it seem like it was. This was for Bucky just as important. It was important for him to have room to breath, too many people still living in his family home, stepping on each other's feet and watching every move the other took and reminding Bucky on a daily basis of his responsibilities. He was supposed to have his life figured out, already married to a decent girl with a good job that would pay enough not only for them but his parents and Rebecca as well. Living with Steve gave him a good way out, but they both knew it would only last so long.
Back home, Steve was just slipping out of his shoes, jacket already hanging over the back of a chair, when the door opened and Bucky came in. The only bulb in their living space casting a dimly light on his form. Tie loose and the first two buttons of his shirt already undone, he stopped in the middle of the room, eyes cast down on the key he fumbled with in his hands, Steve watched him for a moment. He knew Bucky would pick up where they left off and Steve couldn't say if he liked the idea very much. To busy himself, he put his shoes next to the door and then sat down again, hands planted firmly on his knees while he tried to built up the courage to say the words he so carefully thought of. All he had to do was being quicker than Bucky, not allowing him to convince Steve this could be solved.
"I didn't think you might be mad at me for calling you that," Bucky said first, knocking all air out of Steve's lungs. The tone of his voice sounded so broken and if Steve wouldn't have known it any better, he had thought Bucky's eyes were red like he was crying. "You're my best pal, punk. My best pal in the whole world and I don't have any reason to hurt you, right?" He stepped closer, making his way over to where Steve sat on one of the kitchen chairs. "Just thought, you know, if I said it you might believe it."
"Believe what?"
"How pretty you are."
Steve huffed, shook his head at those drunken words. "Pretty is for girls."
"Who said that?" Bucky wanted to know, a deep frown on this face and sounded even offended Steve would say this.
"Everyone? A guy is handsome and a dame is pretty." It was surreal for Steve explaining this to Bucky, but by the look on his face he wasn't all too happy about this explanation. He was still coming closer until he stood between Steve's spread legs and then sank down on his knees, now looking up at Steve. And now Steve was sure Bucky had been crying.
"Then you're both. And I'm allowed to say this. I'm your best friend."
Steve's breath caught in his throat. Bucky was far too close and his words far too sincere and by then too sober as well. He had no idea where this was going, if he would start laughing at Steve any given second because Steve felt his eyes growing wider and mouth falling open. This was definitely not the conversation he had in mind they would be having.
"But not in public. This is nothing you can say to your best friend in public. We nearly got a beating in that bar 'cause of it."
"I should be allowed to say that," was the mumbled reply and Steve found himself leaning closer to hear Bucky better.
Maybe Steve was imagining things, but he thought Bucky's eyes were lingering far too long on his lips, licking his own and all of the sudden they were too close and the air was getting too thick and Steve wanting to get up. But then he shifted and he couldn't remember when Bucky put his hands on his and for a moment Steve averted his eyes because it was too much. When he looked back at Bucky again, he was even closer.
"I want to be allowed to say that. Can I say it? To you? When we're here and it's just us two? And I want to dance with you. Can I?" Before Steve got the chance to reply, Bucky was on his feet again, pulling Steve with him and close against his body. There was no music playing, but Bucky was moving them on the spot, slow dancing, and Steve felt his cheeks burning all over again.
"Why are you really mad at me?" Bucky's breath tickled Steve's skin on his neck and he smelled the scotch tinged with mint on it, mingled with the cologne he put on earlier. Steve moved automatically, clung to Bucky's shoulder and hand far too tight to be comfortable for him. "Was it the date? I just keep on hoping to find you a nice dame to know you get what you deserve and be better off and I'm allowed to stop pining."
Bucky was hiding his face, their cheeks pressed against each other as Bucky kept moving them, holding Steve so close he could feel every time Bucky was breathing in and out. It was hard for Steve to say if he was making fun of him or not, but God, he was hoping he wasn't because this was exactly every thought Steve ever head since realizing he was in love with his best friend.
"You're drunk."
"Yeah, that I am, pal. But not one word ’s a lie."
When Steve tried to pull back, Bucky pressed him even closer against his body. "Just one more moment."
But Steve didn't have any of it. Again he was pushing back, just enough for him to be able looking into Bucky's face. His cheeks were glistening from tears and he was trying to put on a brave face; Steve could tell Bucky was bracing himself for the rejection he was expecting to hear. Instead, though, Steve gathered all the courage he could muster and leaned back in to kiss Bucky. But the angle was wrong and he was nervous and instead of hitting his lips, his mouth connected with Bucky's jaw and their noses bumped against each other and in the end they both laughed.
"That needs some practicing, pal," Bucky chuckled and leaned his forehead against Steve's. Steve could feel the tension draining out of Bucky's body, leaning far too heavily on his own and that while he didn't feel stable either. His knees were shaky and his lungs were rattling and his heart was feeling as if it was close to giving up because he was holding his best friend in his arms. They nearly kissed and laughed about it and it was all he wanted.
"So, did I just got promoted from best pal to best guy?" The question startled Steve for a moment, not sure where this was heading and if they were doing themselves any favor by going down that road. But he didn't want to think about the what ifs and challenges they might have to face. Having Bucky in his arms and feeling his warm body and hearing him asking Steve, if he now was his best guy was all he ever dreamed off.
"Does this include practicing?"
Steve enjoyed feeling the rumble going through Bucky's body as he chuckled at that. "You bet on it, pal."