Steve shakes his head. "Nah. Actually, I'm hungry." He doesn't remember if he ate dinner the night before but either way it wouldn't matter. Serum or no serum, Steve had a hollow leg when it came to eating. Before, it had deprived Bucky of his own food as he sacrificed for him. Now at least they have enough for them both. But that didn't mean he stopped sacrificing. Just now it was different things.
Like sleep.
Steve feels a bit better now. Whether from the meds or from just getting used to the pain, he's not sure, but it's full enough for him to go back to sleep. "I can wait for breakfast though. C'mon. I woke you up."
He doesn't even hesitate getting back into the position he'd been in before and holding open the blanket. Steve smiles at Bucky and pats against the mattress.
"We're not in the army anymore; no waking up at ass crack of dawn."
He grabs some ice from the freezer, wrapping it the same way he had the night before, in a rag. "You sure? I can fix something." It's going to be far, far too easy to slip back into this pattern of domesticity with Steve the longer that it takes Shuri to recreate the serum. And as nostalgic as that would be, ultimately he knows how it'll end: with Steve leaving for parts unknown, off to save the world. Because he doesn't know how to not get involved, and as much as Bucky loves him for it and he'd never ask him to give it up and walk away, it exhausts Bucky.
It exhausts Steve, too. Therein lies the problem: Steve doesn't know when to stop and so he never will, until there's no other choice. And it means that Bucky will lose him, a piece at a time, until there's simply nothing left and it fucking terrifies him.
Bucky remains in the kitchen a moment longer, knowing he should tell Steve he's fine, that a couple hours of sleep is more than he usually manages and he's basically back at full charge already. But he knows his time with Steve here is limited, and he's weak. He knows it. He goes quietly, crawling back onto the mattress beside him and stretching out, holding the ice pack up so the other can see it.
"Should probably ice your shoulder some more. Or your eye. Looks pretty bad this morning."
"Yeah. Makes me look tough." He takes the ice pack all the same and holds it against his shoulder. His eye hurts but not nearly as bad as the repairing joint. He groans a little in relief as the ice numbs it and then settles back against Bucky the way he always used to in the winter. The ice is making him shiver, after all. Steve looks over at him seriously, trying to read into his friend's face what might be on his mind. It's probably close to what's on his own mind.
"Do you remember the first time we shared a bed?"
They'd been young and Steve's mother had been working late. Mrs. Barnes let him spend the night and Steve had tried to sleep on the floor like a respectful guest. That hadn't lasted long until he was almost dragged up and onto Bucky's tiny mattress. Thank God there was no Instagram back then because he woke up nearly on top of Bucky. But it must not have been that bad since they did it again and again and again.
"Brooklyn to Africa and the one constant in our lives is neither of us have guest rooms. Or pullouts."
Bucky hesitates a second, and then reaches out, moving Steve's hand away from the pack and settling his own there instead to keep the ice in place. He feels the other man shiver against him and he shifts a bit closer, curling up against him even as Steve settles back into his warmth.
A soft chuckle escapes him, his breath stirring the soft hair on Steve's head. "Yeah. I remember I had to yank you off the floor and then apparently I used you as an electric blanket." His voice is light, teasing. It hadn't been bad. Back then it had been completely, entirely innocent, two boys clinging to each other for comfort and warmth in the harsh winters.
"Never really needed them, did we? Never minded sharing," he murmurs.
It's such a small thing for Bucky to push Steve's hand away and replace it with his own. Steve watches as he does it and can't help but feel warmed from head to toe. It's small but it's also not. It's the expression of their entire friendship, right there: Bucky supporting and piecing Steve back together without a word. It's just what they do. And Steve knows bone-deep he'd do the same thing if the roles were reversed. It's just who they are. Who both of them are when they're together.
"Good training for the army." And it had been. But that wasn't why they'd done it. "A lot of our past was training for now."
Steve smiles at Bucky almost apologetically, then. His voice lowers and for the first time since he showed up at the front door bleeding, he seems to be calmed down. Or at least more at peace.
"I'm sorry, you know. For going out looking for trouble." Because they both know he needed almost no excuse to fight in the mood he was in. He would have found someone if it took all night. "But even with the pain, I'm kinda glad I did. It is almost worth it to relive these memories."
"Yeah, guess it was," he agrees, letting his eyes drift shut even though he's not sleepy. He's warm and he's comfortable, which is more than he usually is, and it's a feeling that's pretty exclusively tied to Steve in general. He's not sure he's ever been as comfortable as he is when they're like this. It's an incredible reprieve from reality.
He notices the difference when Steve speaks this time and he squints at him, exhaling. "I know," he admits. He knows Steve means the apology. For as much trouble as he's always gotten into, he knows Steve never means to upset him.
Bucky snorts. "Pal, you don't have to get yourself hurt if you wanna crawl into my bed and pretend like we're kids. You don't gotta have an excuse at all." He doesn't think about the words before he says them. They just come out and he holds his breath, letting his eyes close once more and willing Steve not to examine the implications of that too closely.
Steve's heart skips a beat there as he looks at Bucky and replays the words. It wasn't meant the way it came out, of course. It couldn't have been. But still, Steve can't help but smirk at it and move closer to give Bucky a hard time.
"Oh, no? This scrawny body does it for ya, huh?"
Teasing is the best way to push back the feelings Bucky's words brought up. To push away any other thoughts Steve's delirious mind might entertain. He shifts closer and carefully drapes what he can over Bucky. Lanky limbs and all.
"Be honest: the black eye makes me look better, though. Right? Can't even hold yourself back, now."
"How can ya sleep with all of this next to you?" Steve is pushing things but at least it's improving his mood. He rolls a little and goes to wrap his leg around Bucky's middle like an affectionate monkey. "Really, pal. Punk rockstar in your bed and with an open invite? You're gonna sleep and waste i-"
His leg shifts down and finds something that Bucky probably didn't want Steve to feel. It takes a second for him to even realize what it is, but as soon as he does, Steve's ears turn red and he shifts to give Bucky an inch of space.
"It..." He finishes the sentence and has no idea how to start the next one. Was that just because Steve was rubbing against him? Skin on skin? Shame claws at Steve as a hypothesis comes into his mind. One that seems right.
"Heh. Guess I must feel like a same, this small, huh? Sorry. My fault."
Bucky grunts when Steve's leg winds around his torso and shifts just a little too far south and he closes his eyes, his cheeks turning red with embarrassment even as Steve starts to blush, shifting away a little but not a lot and it's all he can do to lie there and not pin the other to the mattress and glower down at him.
"Jesus Christ," he mutters as he opens his eyes again, annoyance warring with fear and humiliation and he's not entirely sure which one is going to win out here. "No, Steve, it's not because you feel like a dame." He huffs out a breath. "It's --"
It's because you're you, you idiot.
"It's been a long time since I've been close to anybody like this, okay?" Like, a really, really long time.
It's a good thing to hear because, had he really reminded Bucky of a woman, he would have felt even further away from the person he'd once been. But, strangely enough, knowing that it was nothing more than just a warm body next to him that had caused Bucky's reaction is almost something of a disappointment. Steve could be traded out with anyone, he guessed. But what else did he really expect? Who would actually want someone who looked like he did? Even without the black eye he wasn't much of a looker.
"I get it," he murmurs, not quite looking at Bucky. He has a smile on his face that's painted on and doesn't even make it up his cheeks, let alone to his eyes. "Guys in the war...they used to get up to all sorts of things just because they were so desperate for contact."
He exhales a little and knows what he needs to say, next. Even if he doesn't want to:
"I could probably head to my room in the palace, now. If you needed some space."
Bucky is pretty sure Steve doesn't get it at all, actually.
He's been carrying so many secrets with him for most of his life. Things he hasn't uttered to a soul or written down. Things that would have gotten him killed back in Brooklyn, and things that would have gotten him sent home on a blue ticket from the army.
He's pretty sure the Russians, at least, had figured it out, back in the early days of his captivity. He remembers them taunting him with it on more than one occasion, usually after he'd been screaming Steve's name for hours.
"I was one of those guys, Steve," he says, voice hushed.
Steve's whole body shifts in the shock as he turns to look at Bucky. It cranes his shoulder the wrong way and has him hissing in pain but not even that is enough to have him distracted. He stares at Bucky, expression unreadable. Bucky couldn't mean what Steve meant. No. Not him.
"Bullshit," he accuses. "You...you could pull any girl within a mile of the field. I'm sure every single fella in the army woulda killed for the dames you were able to find." He sounds sure but Steve, for maybe the first time, is doubting what he thought he knew about his best friend.
"I was talking about...guys. Doing things with....other guys." Even now when it's accepted, Steve feels a little like he's talking about something shameful when he's bringing it up with Bucky. Both of them know how it had been, back then. Both of them know the kind of problems it had brought to the guys who indulged.
The idea that Bucky could have, at any point, been one of those guys is too incredible for Steve to believe. It has to be wrong.
Bucky drops his arm away from his face when he feels Steve's accusatory stare on him. It takes him a minute and the word bullshit to force himself to turn over on his side so he can stare right back at Steve, a challenge in his gaze, daring Steve to condemn him for it and knowing if he does, it'll probably crush him beyond repair.
"It's not bullshit," he says flatly. "And I know what you meant, Steve. For the record, there weren't that many dames around at the time." There had been Peggy, and a handful of nurses, most of whom had been spoken for already and there were lines even Bucky wasn't willing to cross.
He stares long and hard at Steve. "His name was Daniel. He died a few weeks before you showed up in Azanno."
It's like the ground has fallen out from under Steve. He stares at Bucky, unsure of what to say now. There had been a man. There had been a man named Daniel who had touched Bucky. Who Bucky had touched in return.
Bucky had been with a man and, Christ, Steve didn't think he could be any more jealous than he had been when he'd watched his friend go out with every girl in Brooklyn. But this? This is worse. This is so much worse than those years had been.
It's not the reaction Bucky had been expecting and he opens his mouth to respond, then closes it again, feeling an old, familiar ache in his chest that was a combination of remorse for a good man who'd died far too soon, and because in some ways he felt like he'd used him as a substitute for the person Bucky couldn't actually have.
"Why?" he asks quietly, propping himself up on an elbow to peer at Steve intently. "Why do you wanna know?"
"If you went with a guy, he must have really been something." Steve is amazed at how readily that answer falls from his mouth. In reality he has no idea why he asked the question. Maybe because he wants to know what was so special about Daniel to have caught Bucky's eye. Maybe because he's hoping this is just a big joke and this is calling Bucky's bluff. Maybe because it's easier to use that bland question as a way to let his friend know that he's okay with whatever momentary indiscretion he'd had.
Easier than diving deeper into the subject, anyways, and having to say why he was really so alright with it.
"And I know about all your other dates. Might as well round it out."
Bucky studies him for a moment longer before slowly lying back down beside him, considering. "He was a little younger. By a couple years," he told him, heart beating a little faster in his chest. "Bit of a rebel." Apparently Bucky had a type. "Pulled him out of a fight with a guy from another troupe." He'd been devastated when he'd been killed, truthfully, but there hadn't been time to dwell because two days later he and half the 107th got taken prisoner.
"Guess he reminded me a little of someone else I knew." He raises his eyebrows a little at that and lets his eyes close for a moment.
Steve's heart stops in his chest for a second. Without Bucky even saying it he'd picked up on the fact that Daniel and he had some similarities. A rebel who liked to fight? One that needed to be saved by Bucky? Yeah. Steve sees it. And, suddenly, the fact that he and Bucky had been intimate seems bigger than it had seconds before.
"I'm sorry you lost him."
He has no idea what else to say while his heart gets brought back to something more steady. His eyes don't leave Bucky's profile. Steve shifts just a little closer, voice low to hide the conflicted emotions behind his next question.
"Did you love him? Was it...just to get off or... was it more?"
He knows he's just dropped the equivalent of a bomb right on Steve's head and he knows that Steve is exactly smart enough to put the pieces together even if it takes him a minute or two to sort out the implications of what's he said.
"It was a long time ago, Stevie," he murmurs, feeling tired all the way down to his bones. Truth be told it's something he doesn't think about all that often anymore. At least not anymore often than he thinks about the Howlies and wonders how all of their lives had turned out after the war ended.
"No. I didn't -- we weren't in love. It wasn't exactly about getting off, either. It was just -- comfort. We were both pretty sure we weren't gonna make it home." And he'd been certain, beyond the shadow of a doubt that Steve was as straight as it got. "Just happened." And they'd both turned out to be extremely right. Daniel had been blown apart by a landmine and Bucky never made it home to Brooklyn.
Steve is on thin ice and stomping his feet on it but when is he not? His mouth is dry now, stuck between a hope and the knowledge that he's been disappointed almost consistently his entire life. Hope is dangerous for him. But Bucky is next to him saying that he had carried on with a guy who acted like he did. That he'd done it for comfort. And that fact combined with the erection he already knew Bucky had gotten next to him is making Steve bold.
Bolder, actually. But still cautious.
Steve moves back and gently lays his arm back across Bucky's chest. It's light so that his friend could shrug him off if need be. If he doesn't, though, then Steve will tighten that grip up. As much as his spaghetti arm lets him.
He doesn't shrug Steve off because he doesn't want to shrug Steve off. And he knows that he's caught on now, knows that Steve's not asking about Daniel now. No, now he's asking about something that runs far deeper than any other connection or emotion he's ever felt before and he feels exposed. Vulnerable.
Bucky's also pretty sure that Steve is feeling similarly, and that's why he's asking.
He shifts a little, draping his arm around Steve's torso carefully, hand lying flat on his back. "I don't know that there was an exact moment. I think it happened a little at a time and...then all at once," he murmurs, resting his eyes. "Feels like always, mostly." His heart is beating quickly again, and idly he wonders if anyone's heart has actually beat right out of their chest before. He's nervous, but the fact that Steve's shifted closer to him instead of away -- that's something. He doesn't know what, exactly. Maybe just reassurance that the other man doesn't hate him or think less of him for being a fairy.
He's watching Bucky closely with questions behind his eyes not being voiced. Steve wants to know every step. He wants to know everything Bucky did with Daniel because that is something he might be willing to do with another man. Maybe even him, once he stops looking like a starved beanpole. But there's that dangerous hope again. Steve has to watch that lest he ruin the good thing he has now with Bucky.
Lest he expose himself and the secret he's held for so long.
Steve exhales slowly and figures that, with all that Bucky's told him, Steve has to reciprocate a little. The other man has taken all the risks and lain himself bare. Steve can still protect himself while being kind.
"I almost did, once," he admits quietly. "Guy from my art class. George. I didn't..." He was too scared of someone finding out. Someone like Bucky. "But I almost did. So. I think I get it, Buck."
Bucky's pretty caught off guard by that admission and he opens his eyes once more, stares at Steve like he's trying to decide if he's telling the truth or just trying to make Bucky feel at ease. "What was he like? George?" And it's his turn to be jealous. Because for as long as he's known Steve, he never would have guessed that the other had any interest in men at all.
Which he realizes is a stupid conclusion to come to, considering the same could be said about him.
He's long since made peace with his sexuality, has gotten comfortable in his own skin. None of that is the problem. It's that the person he wants to be with has never given him any indication that he'd be even remotely interested.
Steve inhales slowly and turns to look at the ceiling instead of at Bucky. The answer to that question is...complicated. And even though the whole event is decades in the past, Steve still feels like he's baring his diary out here even just mentioning it to his friend. Mostly because Bucky knew George. Just not by that name.
"He...uh," Steve realizes that he can just explain him in broad strokes. He could hide the truth without technically lying, but with the tension in the room so thick, something propels him onward. He still keeps his eyes away from Bucky, not sure that he wants to see his expression if or when he starts adding things up. He even lowers his arm off of Bucky's waist, just in case. Thank God his heart was fixed otherwise, now, it would definitely have had an attack.
"He worked with you," he admits. "He didn't want anyone knowing about the art stuff so...people didn't know about that. He went by George in class but...you knew him on the docks by his last name.
"Tommy?"
His name had been 'Thomas', actually, but it was the docks and a 'Thomas' just didn't fit in. Neither did a George. So the guy had gone by Tommy and Steve had met him all of once through Bucky before he suddenly started showing up in his art class. From there it had been a strange, slow draw towards each other. And nothing had happened, but it had come so, so close. Enough that Steve knew his hands had the same callouses that Bucky's did when they stroked over his face. That his scent was almost the same after a long day at work. If Steve closed his eyes, he could almost pretend. And even open, he could, too.
Tommy had been tall, strong, and dark-haired. The same Brooklyn-Irish good looks that Bucky'd had back then and the same sense of style. People confused them all the fucking time and it was funny, a bit. Back then it had been funny to hear about a mix up here or there because Bucky had no idea that Steve was spending half an hour after class pretending Tommy was him. Wishing that the way Tommy looked at him as they stood out on the street talking would be mirrored in someone else.
Steve had used him. Completely used him. And that was the only reason things hadn't gone further. Even now, Steve is ashamed.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-21 02:57 am (UTC)Like sleep.
Steve feels a bit better now. Whether from the meds or from just getting used to the pain, he's not sure, but it's full enough for him to go back to sleep. "I can wait for breakfast though. C'mon. I woke you up."
He doesn't even hesitate getting back into the position he'd been in before and holding open the blanket. Steve smiles at Bucky and pats against the mattress.
"We're not in the army anymore; no waking up at ass crack of dawn."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-21 03:23 am (UTC)It exhausts Steve, too. Therein lies the problem: Steve doesn't know when to stop and so he never will, until there's no other choice. And it means that Bucky will lose him, a piece at a time, until there's simply nothing left and it fucking terrifies him.
Bucky remains in the kitchen a moment longer, knowing he should tell Steve he's fine, that a couple hours of sleep is more than he usually manages and he's basically back at full charge already. But he knows his time with Steve here is limited, and he's weak. He knows it. He goes quietly, crawling back onto the mattress beside him and stretching out, holding the ice pack up so the other can see it.
"Should probably ice your shoulder some more. Or your eye. Looks pretty bad this morning."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-21 02:28 pm (UTC)"Do you remember the first time we shared a bed?"
They'd been young and Steve's mother had been working late. Mrs. Barnes let him spend the night and Steve had tried to sleep on the floor like a respectful guest. That hadn't lasted long until he was almost dragged up and onto Bucky's tiny mattress. Thank God there was no Instagram back then because he woke up nearly on top of Bucky. But it must not have been that bad since they did it again and again and again.
"Brooklyn to Africa and the one constant in our lives is neither of us have guest rooms. Or pullouts."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-21 03:03 pm (UTC)A soft chuckle escapes him, his breath stirring the soft hair on Steve's head. "Yeah. I remember I had to yank you off the floor and then apparently I used you as an electric blanket." His voice is light, teasing. It hadn't been bad. Back then it had been completely, entirely innocent, two boys clinging to each other for comfort and warmth in the harsh winters.
"Never really needed them, did we? Never minded sharing," he murmurs.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-21 06:05 pm (UTC)"Good training for the army." And it had been. But that wasn't why they'd done it. "A lot of our past was training for now."
Steve smiles at Bucky almost apologetically, then. His voice lowers and for the first time since he showed up at the front door bleeding, he seems to be calmed down. Or at least more at peace.
"I'm sorry, you know. For going out looking for trouble." Because they both know he needed almost no excuse to fight in the mood he was in. He would have found someone if it took all night. "But even with the pain, I'm kinda glad I did. It is almost worth it to relive these memories."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-21 07:25 pm (UTC)He notices the difference when Steve speaks this time and he squints at him, exhaling. "I know," he admits. He knows Steve means the apology. For as much trouble as he's always gotten into, he knows Steve never means to upset him.
Bucky snorts. "Pal, you don't have to get yourself hurt if you wanna crawl into my bed and pretend like we're kids. You don't gotta have an excuse at all." He doesn't think about the words before he says them. They just come out and he holds his breath, letting his eyes close once more and willing Steve not to examine the implications of that too closely.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-22 02:51 am (UTC)"Oh, no? This scrawny body does it for ya, huh?"
Teasing is the best way to push back the feelings Bucky's words brought up. To push away any other thoughts Steve's delirious mind might entertain. He shifts closer and carefully drapes what he can over Bucky. Lanky limbs and all.
"Be honest: the black eye makes me look better, though. Right? Can't even hold yourself back, now."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-22 05:52 pm (UTC)Bucky scowls. If the blonde presses much closer, he's going to realize real fast just how much that scrawny body does do it for him. Fuck.
"Yeah. You look like a punk rockstar." He huffs out a breath. "Thought we were going back to sleep."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-22 07:08 pm (UTC)His leg shifts down and finds something that Bucky probably didn't want Steve to feel. It takes a second for him to even realize what it is, but as soon as he does, Steve's ears turn red and he shifts to give Bucky an inch of space.
"It..." He finishes the sentence and has no idea how to start the next one. Was that just because Steve was rubbing against him? Skin on skin? Shame claws at Steve as a hypothesis comes into his mind. One that seems right.
"Heh. Guess I must feel like a same, this small, huh? Sorry. My fault."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-23 02:22 pm (UTC)Bucky grunts when Steve's leg winds around his torso and shifts just a little too far south and he closes his eyes, his cheeks turning red with embarrassment even as Steve starts to blush, shifting away a little but not a lot and it's all he can do to lie there and not pin the other to the mattress and glower down at him.
"Jesus Christ," he mutters as he opens his eyes again, annoyance warring with fear and humiliation and he's not entirely sure which one is going to win out here. "No, Steve, it's not because you feel like a dame." He huffs out a breath. "It's --"
It's because you're you, you idiot.
"It's been a long time since I've been close to anybody like this, okay?" Like, a really, really long time.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-25 01:22 am (UTC)It's a good thing to hear because, had he really reminded Bucky of a woman, he would have felt even further away from the person he'd once been. But, strangely enough, knowing that it was nothing more than just a warm body next to him that had caused Bucky's reaction is almost something of a disappointment. Steve could be traded out with anyone, he guessed. But what else did he really expect? Who would actually want someone who looked like he did? Even without the black eye he wasn't much of a looker.
"I get it," he murmurs, not quite looking at Bucky. He has a smile on his face that's painted on and doesn't even make it up his cheeks, let alone to his eyes. "Guys in the war...they used to get up to all sorts of things just because they were so desperate for contact."
He exhales a little and knows what he needs to say, next. Even if he doesn't want to:
"I could probably head to my room in the palace, now. If you needed some space."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-25 02:20 am (UTC)He's been carrying so many secrets with him for most of his life. Things he hasn't uttered to a soul or written down. Things that would have gotten him killed back in Brooklyn, and things that would have gotten him sent home on a blue ticket from the army.
He's pretty sure the Russians, at least, had figured it out, back in the early days of his captivity. He remembers them taunting him with it on more than one occasion, usually after he'd been screaming Steve's name for hours.
"I was one of those guys, Steve," he says, voice hushed.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-25 03:56 am (UTC)Steve's whole body shifts in the shock as he turns to look at Bucky. It cranes his shoulder the wrong way and has him hissing in pain but not even that is enough to have him distracted. He stares at Bucky, expression unreadable. Bucky couldn't mean what Steve meant. No. Not him.
"Bullshit," he accuses. "You...you could pull any girl within a mile of the field. I'm sure every single fella in the army woulda killed for the dames you were able to find." He sounds sure but Steve, for maybe the first time, is doubting what he thought he knew about his best friend.
"I was talking about...guys. Doing things with....other guys." Even now when it's accepted, Steve feels a little like he's talking about something shameful when he's bringing it up with Bucky. Both of them know how it had been, back then. Both of them know the kind of problems it had brought to the guys who indulged.
The idea that Bucky could have, at any point, been one of those guys is too incredible for Steve to believe. It has to be wrong.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-25 04:25 am (UTC)"It's not bullshit," he says flatly. "And I know what you meant, Steve. For the record, there weren't that many dames around at the time." There had been Peggy, and a handful of nurses, most of whom had been spoken for already and there were lines even Bucky wasn't willing to cross.
He stares long and hard at Steve. "His name was Daniel. He died a few weeks before you showed up in Azanno."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-25 04:36 am (UTC)Bucky had been with a man and, Christ, Steve didn't think he could be any more jealous than he had been when he'd watched his friend go out with every girl in Brooklyn. But this? This is worse. This is so much worse than those years had been.
"...tell me about him?"
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-25 04:43 am (UTC)"Why?" he asks quietly, propping himself up on an elbow to peer at Steve intently. "Why do you wanna know?"
It's not defensive, just curious.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-25 04:47 am (UTC)Easier than diving deeper into the subject, anyways, and having to say why he was really so alright with it.
"And I know about all your other dates. Might as well round it out."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-25 04:56 am (UTC)"Guess he reminded me a little of someone else I knew." He raises his eyebrows a little at that and lets his eyes close for a moment.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-25 05:05 am (UTC)"I'm sorry you lost him."
He has no idea what else to say while his heart gets brought back to something more steady. His eyes don't leave Bucky's profile. Steve shifts just a little closer, voice low to hide the conflicted emotions behind his next question.
"Did you love him? Was it...just to get off or... was it more?"
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-25 05:12 am (UTC)"It was a long time ago, Stevie," he murmurs, feeling tired all the way down to his bones. Truth be told it's something he doesn't think about all that often anymore. At least not anymore often than he thinks about the Howlies and wonders how all of their lives had turned out after the war ended.
"No. I didn't -- we weren't in love. It wasn't exactly about getting off, either. It was just -- comfort. We were both pretty sure we weren't gonna make it home." And he'd been certain, beyond the shadow of a doubt that Steve was as straight as it got. "Just happened." And they'd both turned out to be extremely right. Daniel had been blown apart by a landmine and Bucky never made it home to Brooklyn.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-08-25 05:30 am (UTC)Steve is on thin ice and stomping his feet on it but when is he not? His mouth is dry now, stuck between a hope and the knowledge that he's been disappointed almost consistently his entire life. Hope is dangerous for him. But Bucky is next to him saying that he had carried on with a guy who acted like he did. That he'd done it for comfort. And that fact combined with the erection he already knew Bucky had gotten next to him is making Steve bold.
Bolder, actually. But still cautious.
Steve moves back and gently lays his arm back across Bucky's chest. It's light so that his friend could shrug him off if need be. If he doesn't, though, then Steve will tighten that grip up. As much as his spaghetti arm lets him.
"How did it happen?"
cw: internalized homophobia in this tag
Date: 2019-08-25 05:37 am (UTC)Bucky's also pretty sure that Steve is feeling similarly, and that's why he's asking.
He shifts a little, draping his arm around Steve's torso carefully, hand lying flat on his back. "I don't know that there was an exact moment. I think it happened a little at a time and...then all at once," he murmurs, resting his eyes. "Feels like always, mostly." His heart is beating quickly again, and idly he wonders if anyone's heart has actually beat right out of their chest before. He's nervous, but the fact that Steve's shifted closer to him instead of away -- that's something. He doesn't know what, exactly. Maybe just reassurance that the other man doesn't hate him or think less of him for being a fairy.
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Date: 2019-08-25 05:47 am (UTC)Lest he expose himself and the secret he's held for so long.
Steve exhales slowly and figures that, with all that Bucky's told him, Steve has to reciprocate a little. The other man has taken all the risks and lain himself bare. Steve can still protect himself while being kind.
"I almost did, once," he admits quietly. "Guy from my art class. George. I didn't..." He was too scared of someone finding out. Someone like Bucky. "But I almost did. So. I think I get it, Buck."
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Date: 2019-08-25 10:54 pm (UTC)Which he realizes is a stupid conclusion to come to, considering the same could be said about him.
He's long since made peace with his sexuality, has gotten comfortable in his own skin. None of that is the problem. It's that the person he wants to be with has never given him any indication that he'd be even remotely interested.
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Date: 2019-08-25 11:47 pm (UTC)"He...uh," Steve realizes that he can just explain him in broad strokes. He could hide the truth without technically lying, but with the tension in the room so thick, something propels him onward. He still keeps his eyes away from Bucky, not sure that he wants to see his expression if or when he starts adding things up. He even lowers his arm off of Bucky's waist, just in case. Thank God his heart was fixed otherwise, now, it would definitely have had an attack.
"He worked with you," he admits. "He didn't want anyone knowing about the art stuff so...people didn't know about that. He went by George in class but...you knew him on the docks by his last name.
"Tommy?"
His name had been 'Thomas', actually, but it was the docks and a 'Thomas' just didn't fit in. Neither did a George. So the guy had gone by Tommy and Steve had met him all of once through Bucky before he suddenly started showing up in his art class. From there it had been a strange, slow draw towards each other. And nothing had happened, but it had come so, so close. Enough that Steve knew his hands had the same callouses that Bucky's did when they stroked over his face. That his scent was almost the same after a long day at work. If Steve closed his eyes, he could almost pretend. And even open, he could, too.
Tommy had been tall, strong, and dark-haired. The same Brooklyn-Irish good looks that Bucky'd had back then and the same sense of style. People confused them all the fucking time and it was funny, a bit. Back then it had been funny to hear about a mix up here or there because Bucky had no idea that Steve was spending half an hour after class pretending Tommy was him. Wishing that the way Tommy looked at him as they stood out on the street talking would be mirrored in someone else.
Steve had used him. Completely used him. And that was the only reason things hadn't gone further. Even now, Steve is ashamed.
"It wouldn't have worked out..."
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