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James Buchanan Barnes was screwed.
He should have known it when, having met his best friend while saving him from a fight, he found himself with the name Bucky, which ten years later he still used as his name, almost ignoring the James and the Buchanan, to be more precise.
In reality, he should have known that Steve Rogers would be a lot of trouble when, after saving him from two boys older than him in age and weight, a six-year-old Steve Rogers punched him, became indignant at his completely useless intervention, and then went on his way, ignoring him the next day, but speaking to him two days later, after Bucky saved him for the second time from another group of bullies.
You'd think Steve Rogers would have realized he was too young and small to get into so many fights, but Steve Rogers seemed immune to that simple knowledge, and annoyed when Bucky dared to point it out.
Plus, many would think Bucky would look at Steve, realize he was trouble, and back away from that little gremlin.
But no, Bucky not only hadn't distanced himself from him, he'd actually fallen in love with him.
And after sharing every experience that could have been shared, Bucky had even decided to move in with Steve, just the two of them.
If Bucky had found Steve as handsome as he did Gertie, Mary, or Emma, everything would have been fine, but instead, Bucky had to find every tiny detail of Steve Rogers absolutely irresistible.
Steve's hair wasn't just blonde. It was very light when Steve sunbathed, darker when wet, always a little messy because Steve kept running his hands through it when he was nervous or busy drawing.
And, after living together, after sharing a bed all the time, neither willing to let the other sleep on the floor, Bucky knew perfectly well the difference between Steve having just woken up and Steve having tried to fix his hair, preferring the former.
Because Steve didn't know he was handsome at that moment.
If the hair wasn't enough, then the eyes were the problem: Bucky could get lost in Steve's eyes with embarrassing ease.
Not just because they were blue, but because Steve actually looked at people.
When someone spoke, Steve listened. When Bucky spoke, Steve looked at him as if there was nothing more important in the world than him.
And Bucky was absolutely screwed.
Bucky also knew exactly what every movement of Steve's eyebrows meant.
One raised eyebrow meant I don't believe you; both raised eyebrows meant Bucky, what have you done?; furrowed eyebrows meant concern, and when Steve tried to figure something out, a small crease appeared between them that made Bucky really want to kiss it.
Of course, without ever actually doing it because, despite all the evidence to the contrary, Bucky wasn't an idiot.
Steve thought his nose was too big.
Bucky thought it was perfect.
In fact, Bucky had the problem of wanting to kiss him whenever Steve was too close, which led him to carefully avoid looking at him when they were just a few inches apart.
Bucky also knew Steve's freckles, which Steve had never even noticed.
Bucky knew where they were, he knew which ones became more visible in the summer, and some mornings he tried to count them without waking Steve before his work shift.
Bucky loved Steve's ears, the ones that were slightly red when Steve was embarrassed, the ones that went completely red when Steve received a compliment, completely captivating Bucky.
The mouth really got Bucky into trouble.
Steve's smile, the bright and sincere one, was very rare, but when it appeared, Bucky completely forgot everything else. On one memorable occasion, even his own name.
Steve hadn't noticed anything, fortunately, and had covered Bucky.
The way Steve tilted his head when he listened, the way he swallowed when he was nervous, the way his hair fell just above the collar of his shirt.
Bucky knew these details far more than he should have even noticed.
Steve's hands were slender, with long fingers, a few calluses, a few small scars. They were hands that drew, hands that held a cup, hands that reached into pockets, hands that grabbed his arm when they crossed the street.
And Bucky often had the simple, inappropriate, and devastating thought of wanting those hands on him, wherever Steve chose to touch him.
When Steve wore one of Bucky's shirts, too large for him, Bucky watched with bated breath as a shirt inevitably slipped off one shoulder.
The way he moved, making it impossible for Bucky not to recognize Steve from afar, even without seeing his face. He recognized his stride, the way he cocked one shoulder slightly, the way he walked, happy or angry, the way he adjusted his jacket.
Bucky loved Steve's voice, tired, happy, angry, and especially when his lips moved as they formed Bucky's name.
But Steve didn't just exist in the world in his own perfect way; no, he illuminated it.
Steve stopped to help an old lady with her bags, Steve defended someone he didn't even know because it was the right thing to do, Steve shared food even when he had little, Steve got angry at injustice and at all those who did nothing, Steve who was completely incapable of looking the other way, Steve who continued to believe in people even when it would have been much easier to stop, especially for Steve himself.
Bucky could flirt and charm any girl in Brooklyn, but the moment his eyes fell on Steve, he lost any charm or seductive talent.
"Buck!" Steve exclaimed, waking Bucky from his contemplation of the perfection that was Steve Rogers of the moment.
"Yeah?" Bucky replied, deciding to pretend he hadn't been staring at Steve the entire time they were in the house.
“Did you hear a single thing I said?” Steve asked, staring at Bucky with the beginnings of irritation.
“Of course.” Bucky nodded, hoping Steve would accept his words as true, or, more likely, forget what he hadn't said yet and repeat everything, as he sometimes did.
“What did I say, then?” Steve asked, challenging him.
Bucky cursed mentally, wondering why Steve had to be so difficult sometimes.
As he searched for an answer, his eyes fell on Steve's mouth, beautiful, half-open, and so inviting and distracting…
"If you wanted to kiss me, you could've said so."
Absolute silence.
Bucky blinked, looking at Steve in shock. “What did you say?” he asked, knowing he’d projected his own sick desires onto his best friend and that he’d hate himself even more after Steve’s words turned out to be something entirely different.
“If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve said so,” Steve repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously, Buck, you don’t expect me to climb on top of you, do you?”
Bucky stammered, feeling incredibly stupid as he said it. “I… you… what?”
“Bucky, are you waiting for a written invitation?” Steve asked, still staring at Bucky with those huge blue eyes of his, two slivers of sky, “Kiss me now.”
Who knew why Bucky wouldn’t have expected their first kiss to be the result of Steve’s orders, but he should have known better.
Wasting no time, before Steve could come to his senses and change his mind, Bucky lunged at his best friend, kissing him and pressing him against the couch.
“I'm in love with you.” Bucky murmured against Steve's lips. “Please don't make fun of me.”
“Bucky, would I ever make fun of you?” Steve asked, opening his eyelids very slowly after their kiss, much more calmly than Bucky.
“You once convinced me eggs didn't exist.” Bucky replied dryly.
Steve smiled, as he always did, the most successful prank ever, where he had led all his classmates to an existential crisis. It would have been funny if Steve hadn't conveniently forgotten to warn Bucky about the prank and dragged him into the existential crisis aimed at mean, bullying classmates.
“Okay, but that was only one time,” Steve said. “I wouldn't make fun of you about that.” With a small smile, Steve added. “My feelings for you are as real as eggs.”
Bucky gave him a dry look, but instead of arguing with him, he decided that kissing him would be a much better answer.
Steve's lips were even better up close.