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[endsinafight]

He should have known something weird was going to happen considering the fact that it was a full moon. But he was trying his best to put as much weird behind him as he could, and that included any kind of supernatural or alien shenannigans. Not that he wouldn't pitch in and do his part if it came down to it, but these days, Bucky much preferred sticking closer to the old brownstone he'd taken up residence in the last few weeks, since the Snap had been reversed. That wasn't to say he stayed locked up in his new place, because he hadn't. He'd been out to see Steve and his grandkids earlier that day, in fact.

Yesterday, he'd reluctantly agreed to have lunch with Sam, whom was turning out to be a pretty good friend. It wasn't something he would have imagined a year ago. Or -- technically, five years ago.

No, Bucky was doing his best to scrape together some semblance of a life in the wake of Thanos' reign and the Snap, and Tony's death and Steve's trip to the past.

And, and, and.

It was just a lot easier said than done. Some people still looked at him funny when he went to the stores, no doubt recognizing him and wondering if they were about to be brutally murdered. He wanted to tell them so badly that they weren't in any danger from him. He didn't want to hurt anyone.

He was lucky if he got four or five hours of sleep at night, and most of that was still filled with nightmares. Tonight was no exception and at 2 in the morning, he found himself staring out the kitchen window, drinking a glass of water when the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up, and he knew, instinctively, that shit was about to get weird.

Heart beating fast in his chest, he turned, pausing at the sight of Steve Rogers standing behind him, looking around like he was confused, and damned if Bucky wasn't confused, too, because this wasn't an old man.

This Steve looked like he was 26 or 27, tops.

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[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve shivered at Bucky’s touch, breathing out in huff. This moment felt almost sacred, like they’d transported somewhere where they could just be together, against all odds.

He wanted to confess something, say something—he had an ember of hope that they were sharing some of his most secret feelings.

Instead he just said, for maybe the hundredth time since he’d showed up in Bucky’s kitchen, “God, I missed you.”

[endsinafight]

Before Bucky had a chance to respond this time, Alpine meowed, resting a paw on Steve's head and climbing up and over him without warning, sitting down in the crook of his neck and looking at Bucky with another plaintive meow that made him snort quietly.

"She thinks she's starving cause she hasn't eaten in a couple hours," he informed Steve, rubbing the back of his neck lightly even as the cat pawed at his hand and forearm.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve huffed a laugh and kept his head very still as to not observe her.

“Well, she’s very little. Not much storage in there.”

He had a strange mix of emotions—irritated, a little, that she cast away the quiet intimacy. Grateful that she saved him from himself. Mostly, sympathetic. Hunger sucked.

[endsinafight]

"Her dry food is still out in the kitchen, but she likes the wet stuff better. Picky damn cat," he grumbled, reaching out and picking her up with his hand, resting her on his hip before returning his hand to Steve's neck. He didn't blame her, really, and the fondness in his tone said as much. He was quiet for a moment. "Actually, I'm...kinda hungry now, too," he admitted even as Alpine whined at him. He gave Steve a sheepish grin.

"Think you're ready to eat again? I could fix us French toast or protein shakes if that would be better for you."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve smiled at Bucky, eyes bright. The way he grumbled about the cat was familiar and loving—it reminded him of the way Bucky grumbled about Steve, back in the day.

“I could always eat,” he said. “French toast or protein shakes is up to you. If you point me at small tasks, I can help.”

He’d never been any kind of cook.

[endsinafight]

Bucky's lips curved upwards at that, because yeah. He remembered that cooking had never been one of Steve's strong suits. Not that he hadn't tried. There'd been a few nights back in the day when Steve had tried. Days when Bucky had put in 16 or more hours down at the docks and Steve had wanted to do something to help him out. He loved him for trying.

He loved him for everything.

"Let's do French toast and scrambled eggs." Eggs were chalk full of protein, and they tasted a hell of a lot better than protein shakes, even when Bucky had figured out ways to make the stuff taste decent.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Alpine meowed piteously, trying to urge them to get a move on. Steve tightened his arm around Bucky’s waist, as if in response. They had a good plan for breakfast, and Steve was hungry too—but it was a hard thing, to willingly choose to leave this bed and this warmth.

"Sounds like a plan," he said, but he made no move toward getting up.

[endsinafight]

Nothing like being caught between his two favorite strays. His expression was one of amusement as he gazed at Steve, though he made no move to pull away. "In a couple minutes," he agreed, reaching back to pet Alpine. "I promise you won't starve, Sweetheart."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve smiled, a little rueful—he could tell that Bucky was on to him by the look in his yes.

"I’m just getting greedy for being this close to you," he said.

[endsinafight]

Bucky wanted to say that he didn't need to worry. That they had all the time in the world. But it would be a lie, because they don't. They never have. He simply nodded in understanding, searching Steve's eyes. He suspected that it might not be solely about Bucky, but about the fact that no one's really touched Steve much in the last seventy years. He knows the kind of stress that touch starvation can cause, so he let his hand linger at the nape of Steve's neck.

"I get it," he told him.