Chapter Text
MAY 1933
As Bucky pulled on his pants, fastening them with shaky fingers, he couldn’t help but feel painfully guilty. There wasn’t really a reason to, but looking at Lizzie Davis perched on her bed, covering herself with light sheets, Bucky’s stomach rolled with regret.
He had wanted this. He did. And while it wasn’t the greatest thing Bucky’s ever experienced, it was a hell of a lot better than getting off just with his own hand. But a quiet voice in his head said that it would have been even better with Steve.
She was beautiful, he wasn’t blind, and the feeling of her soft skin, plush breasts, and warm opening was enticing. But he also had no feelings for her. That didn’t stop him from cumming quickly and intensely onto her white stomach, but it felt more like a transaction than anything else. He got what he wanted out of the arrangement, did his best to give her what she wanted, and that was it.
He could tell by the look in her eyes that she felt similarly, which was more of a relief than anything. Bucky knew it wasn’t his personality she cared about. Now, she looked at him hungrily, drinking in his olive skin and the hard muscles rippling underneath as he pulled on his undershirt. Bucky buttoned up his dress shirt and grabbed his coat off the floor of her bedroom.
“See you later?” She asked, teasingly.
“Yeah, sure,” Bucky mumbled, absentmindedly before adding, “I’ll show myself out.”
He left her there, shutting the door and practically running the length of the hall, down the stairs, and out the door. He burst outside into the muggy evening. Running his hands through greased hair, Bucky sighed and turned left, towards home.
Standing at the foot of his stoop, Bucky hesitated. Chewing on his lip, he looked from the front door then down the street. Quickly making up his mind, Bucky continued on, heading straight to the Rogers’.
It was twilight, purple and orange light emanating brightly from the west as he crossed a street and jogged towards Steve’s building. He hesitated again. Instead of going to the door, Bucky walked around to the fire escape, jumping up to reach the bottom rung of the lowest ladder and pulled himself up hand over hand. He crawled one more small flight up and peeked into a window.
As expected, Steve was lounging on his bed, sketching, and the phonograph from the living room sat near the door. Bucky could faintly make out the grainy notes as he tapped on the window. Steve looked around, confused at first, before seeing Bucky crouching outside and jumping in surprise. He scrambled out of bed and padded to the window, sliding it roughly open.
“Buck, what’re you doin’?” He asked in a whisper, as if it was a secret.
“I’m sorry, Steve, I just...I just wanted to see you.”
“You know we have a front door, right?” Steve teased, crossing his arms on the sill and leaning out the window towards him.
“Just didn’t feel like running into your ma, that’s all. Not really in the mood for small talk.” Bucky licked his lips and glanced at Steve’s mouth.
“She’s not home…” Steve trailed off, looking at Bucky warily, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Yeah, I just…I need…I need you right now.”
Steve stared at him, getting increasingly worried. “Bucky, are you sure you’re okay?”
“Steve, would you just stop talking and kiss me, already? Please?”
Startled by the bluntness of it, Steve blinked a few times and stood up straight. He looked cautiously around for bystanders outside before stepping back and letting Bucky slip through the window. The instant Steve slid it shut and pulled the curtains closed, Bucky was on him. Steve was frozen against Bucky’s mouth at first, surprised, before following Bucky’s heated lead. After a few rough kisses, Steve pushed lightly against Bucky’s chest, breaking their embrace.
“What’s gotten into you?” Steve asked, half worried, half amused.
“Nothin.’ I wanted to see you is all.”
Steve looked at him, noting his already disheveled hair and untucked shirt. A pang of hurt and jealously hit Steve’s chest and he was too afraid of the answer to ask Bucky where he had just come from.
“Can I…” Bucky started, deflating. “Can I just lie here with you for a little while?”
“Of course,” Steve answered, getting more and more concerned.
He took back his spot on the bed, cross-legged, and set his sketchbook on his nightstand. Bucky kicked off his shoes and shuffled over. He crawled onto the small mattress, lying on his side with his head in Steve’s lap, and bent his knees so his feet didn’t dangle off the edge.
Tentatively, Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s thick hair, the pomade transferring thickly onto Steve’s hands. He scratched at Bucky’s scalp in small circles as the phonograph continued to play and Bucky gripped at Steve’s legs crossed underneath him, pulling at the soft fabric of his pajamas.
After a few more songs lightly played, Steve removed his hands and set one on Bucky’s shoulder. “Buck?”
“Yeah?” He mumbled.
“You wanna stay the night?”
“Yeah,” Bucky croaked brokenly.
They pulled some couch cushions into Steve’s room and set them on the floor next to the bed. Steve found Bucky an extra quilt and gave him a fresh t-shirt and pajama bottoms to change into. Most of Steve’s clothes were hand-me-downs from neighbors or friends, some pieces even left by his father, so despite Bucky being much bulkier than him, Steve had a fair amount of items that fit him comfortably.
As the sun fully set, they settled in, switching off the lights and silencing the music. Steve was in bed on his stomach, looking down at Bucky tucked in on the floor at his side. Steve lightly ran his knuckles along Bucky’s temple.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Steve asked, not knowing what “it” was, but knowing there was definitely something Bucky wasn’t saying.
“Not really,” Bucky murmured.
Steve pulled a pained expression. “Alright. Sleep sweet, Buck.”
He moved to take his hand back, but Bucky quickly grabbed it with his own. Giving Steve’s hand a tight squeeze, Bucky replied, “Sleep sweet, Steve.”
Kissing his palm, Bucky let go of Steve’s hand and he rolled over, curling up under the quilt. Steve stared for a few moments before pushing up onto his side, keeping an eye on Bucky until he drifted into sleep.