Work Text:
“Are you really not going to talk to me?” Bucky sighs. Steve is curled into himself on the middle of the couch. His left suspender strap is falling off of his shoulder from the position he’s sitting in and his eyebrows are furrowed down. He hasn’t spoken since they got back to the apartment that evening, and Bucky knows that tonight has been rough but he wishes Steve would tell him how he’s feeling instead of keeping his emotions to himself like he always seems to be doing.
“Steve, please. You don’t have to be happy, but I don’t wanna spend my last night watching you pout on the couch. I don’t wanna leave you on a bad foot.”
Bucky sits on the couch next to Steve and cups his hand over Steve’s shoulder, tilting his head into the blonde’s line of vision in an attempt to meet his eyes. Steve isn’t having it, and Bucky tries not to roll his eyes. Stubborn Steve is not a fun Steve to deal with, and Bucky figures he might as well give up for a while.
In the corner of the room the radio quietly plays an older song, so Bucky gets up to turn it up a few notches. He takes a seat on the edge of the couch and lightly taps his foot to the soft jazz beat. Every few minutes or so he glances in Steve’s direction to see him in the same position each time, skinny arms crossed over his chest in a way that somehow makes him look smaller. It almost makes Bucky laugh; Steve’s intimidation tactics usually make him look even less threatening than usual.
Honestly, Bucky can’t blame Steve for the way he is acting. If the tables were turned and Steve were the one going away, he would be having a hard time as well. He is having a hard time, but that Steve is probably more anxious than anything. He’s never been completely on his own, and he’s certainly never been without Bucky. There has to be some part of his mind that thinks that it is going to be permanent.
No matter how much Bucky wants to deny it, he really can’t say that it won’t be.
The song changes and Steve’s head lifts slightly. Bucky smiles when he recognizes the song and gets up from the couch. He stands in front of Steve and holds his hand out for him to take.
Steve frowns at Bucky. “I’m not in the mood, Buck,” he says quietly, though he does feel slightly guilty when the grin on Bucky’s face lessens. He lets out a sigh – he won’t forgive himself if he continues to ignore Bucky for the rest of the night – and lets himself be pulled to his feet. They settle for a spot in the middle of the room and Bucky pulls Steve to his chest, resting his hands on the small of his partner’s back.
Bucky gently rocks back and forth with Steve, rubbing his thumb across the blonde’s shirt. It’s quiet aside from the radio playing in the background. There’s a quiet static undertone to the song but they’re both so used to the sound that they don’t notice it anymore. It feels nice, and Steve can’t help but smile a little at how good he feels in this moment despite everything that’s about to happen. He holds onto Bucky’s neck as he’s rocked from side to side and closes his eyes, breathing out softly.
«Stars shining bright above you; night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you’. Birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me. »
Bucky is humming along to the words and he rests his cheek on the top of Steve’s head. “I’m sorry, doll. I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” he whispers, kissing the blonde’s hair. He pulls Steve tighter against his body, as close as he can without hurting him.
“I wish I could come with you,” Steve says.
“I know.”
Truthfully speaking, if they both had their way neither of them would be leaving. The war wouldn’t be happening and no one would have to go anywhere. But, since the world doesn’t seem to give a shit about what Steve and Bucky want, this is their best case scenario. Bucky goes off to help end the war and Steve stays at home where it’s nice and safe and familiar. And Bucky really isn’t in any position to complain about Steve having a better chance at staying safe.
That also means that he won’t be there to take care of Steve if and when he’s sick. He had already asked one of the neighbors to check on him regularly, but Bucky is still worried that something could happen to Steve while he’s away, and he wouldn’t have any idea.
“Hey,” Steve says softly, pulling Bucky’s attention towards himself. “We’re gonna be okay, Buck.”
He sounds so sure of himself that it’s almost convincing. Bucky nods even if he doesn’t fully believe him, and smiles at Steve the best he can. He knows deep down that Steve is right, he always has been, but he can’t seem to shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. He can’t help but feel that way; he has always been so worried about Steve that it would feel wrong for him not to be worried.
Bucky swallows and holds Steve’s body flush against his, focusing on the lyrics of the song rather than his thoughts.
«Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you. Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you.
But in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me. »
“I hope so.”
“I love you.”
Bucky’s smile is genuine this time, as he starts to sway again. He has a firm grip on the back of Steve’s shirt, but not nearly as tight as Steve is holding on to his collar. He tries to memorize his surroundings before he has to go – the look of the apartment, the worn down couch that used to belong to Steve’s mother, the stack of newspapers that are piled next to the radio, the smell of Steve, and everything else that he’s going to miss while he’s gone. He prays to whoever is listening that everything will be okay in the end, that he’ll be able to come home to this – to Steve – and enjoy it in all of its goodness.
“I love you more, doll.”
-
Bucky is there and it’s good. Steve’s done fighting to get him back, and everything that is supposed to make sense does. It’s been hard for both Bucky and Steve to figure out what parts of Bucky are still missing. For Bucky it’s more of a frustration and for Steve it’s feeling upset just because Bucky does.
That’s not to say that there aren’t times where Bucky has a moment of revelation. Those are Steve’s favorite moments to witness. The look on Bucky’s face when he remembers something makes all of the hard nights worth it.
Steve is sitting on the couch and Bucky is on the floor in front of him. Steve has Bucky’s hair sectioned off into three, trying to braid it like Nat had done a few days ago. It looks pretty like that, Steve likes it.
The laptop is playing Steve’s “1917” Spotify playlist (made up of songs that reminded him of Bucky. Sap.) just loud enough that they can hear it. It’s nice for them to have time to just sit and relax during the day versus all of the hectic shit that had been going on lately. It made Bucky feel more comfortable adjusting to the new environment, and in return it let Steve breathe a little easier. Win-win.
Steve’s second attempt at the braid fails and he gives up, slicking Bucky’s hair back into a neat ponytail instead. He smiles at his handiwork and runs his fingers through the damaged ends of it, making a mental note to ask Bucky later if he wants to get it cut. There are so many split ends and sections that are shorter than the rest that there is no way it can be considered any bit healthy anymore. It makes Steve sad that Bucky had gone so long without any proper care.
Bucky had been still for so long that it startles Steve when he lifts his head as the song crossfades into a new one.
“You okay, Buck?” Steve asks.
“I know this song,” Bucky says. Then he looks up at Steve with the same adorably confused expression he’s had quite often lately. He is unsure of himself.
Steve nods.
“Ozzie Nelson. You’d make me dance to it with ya when it came on the radio.” He’s smiling again, and it makes Bucky smile, too. Steve’s smile is too pretty for him not to.
“Yeah. You hated that I was always the lead. Made’ja feel even smaller.” Bucky laughs a genuine laugh.
“I don’t think that would be a problem now,” Steve says. Bucky’s head is leaning against his knee now and he brushes his fingers through the few pieces of hair that have managed to escape the ponytail holder.
“You really think you could lead now?” Bucky is only teasing, but Steve takes his question as seriously as if it were a life and death situation.
“Think I can’t?” Steve asks back, shifting so Bucky moves out of the way. He stands from the couch, holding his hand out for Bucky to take. Bucky sighs, but takes Steve’s hand anyway and lets himself be pulled from his spot on the floor.
They stand in the middle of the living room. Steve pulls Bucky’s body flush against his own, resting his hands on the small of Bucky’s back. The middle of the song is already approaching, which means Ozzie is about to start singing and Bucky thinks he remembers singing them to Steve before but he doesn’t want to risk saying the wrong words.
«Stars shining bright above you; night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you’. Birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me. »
Steve had already started to sway back and forth, pulling Bucky with him. It is a little hard for Bucky to find a comfortable way to wrap his arm around Steve’s neck but he finally settles, loosely hanging on to the collar of his shirt. He leans his head on Steve’s shoulder and smiles when Steve lays his cheek on the top of Bucky’s head.
«Say nighty-night and kiss me; just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me. While I’m alone and blue as can be. Dream a little dream of me. »
Bucky closes his eyes. He remembers a too-small apartment with mix-matched decorations everywhere to distract from the cracks in the wallpaper. There’s the vague memory of lavender oil but he can’t exactly remember why. Cold, thin hands that used to grab for his, a silent reminder that everything was okay. He never really believed that, and somehow he was right.
«Sweet dreams ‘til sunbeams find you. Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you. But in your dreams whatever they be; dream a little dream of me. »
“This isn’t right,” Steve mumbles, stopping in the middle of the room.
Bucky blinks up at Steve. The song had changed and he hadn’t even been paying attention. Fred Astaire’s “Cheek to Cheek” is now playing and Bucky can’t help but think of how appropriate the song is now that the lyrics work for him and Steve.
“I was thinking the same,” Bucky says, rubbing the back of Steve’s neck with his thumb. He slips his hand down to Steve’s waist right as Steve moves his own hands up. It’s more comfortable this way, they both think.
«Heaven, I'm in Heaven. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. »
Bucky turns with Steve pressed against him. He can remember Steve apologizing for stepping on Bucky’s toes, and all of the times he ended up being lead around the room on his feet anyways. It had always made him feel bigger, even if he still was the follow. Now he can feel Steve’s soft breaths on his collar without any extra boost and it makes him feel oddly happy. Which, if he’s being honest, anything Steve does makes him happy.
«Dance with me – I want my arm about you. The charm about you. Will carry me thro' to Heaven. »
“Better?” Bucky asks. Steve nods his head and lets out a soft sigh. “Guess you just aren’t cut out to be a lead, huh?”
“Apparently super-soldier serum doesn’t mean a damn thing when it comes to dancing.”
Bucky just smiles and kisses right above Steve’s eye.