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It's one of those nights. The chest-crushing humid ones that happen around mid-June; steam and sweat and groggy lingering infiltrating everyone's bodies.
Steve Rogers is in his apartment, or rather, the apartment's he's been living in since Tony offered it to him post-New York. The fan is on and the AC is circulating throughout all the other rooms in the building, but he's decided to turn the one in his room off. It reminds him of those Brooklyn nights, senior year of high school when Bucky was football captain and he was a scrawny little thing just trying to get by as an art kid. They'd had their own apartment, but in close proximity, things didn't get hidden very well.
"Hey, Buck?"
"Yeah?"
Steve looks at the clock on the nightstand, and it's one in the morning. Bucky's frozen awkwardly, lying on his back, head tilted up, mouth open as if he was just panting, and hips in an odd position. The sheets are rucked up around his hipbones, but his chest and abdominals are exposed and his arms laid out as if someone was sitting on top of him. Bucky opens his eyes, noticing his compromising position and hastily sitting up, rearranging the sheets. "Fuck, sorry, um, weird dream..."
It's a bullshit lie and they both know it. Steve sits up, putting his legs over the side of the bed so that he's facing Bucky, and whispers "You were moaning my name."
"Oh God," Bucky whimpers, "you ain't freaked out now, are you?"
His puppy dog eyes rip a hole through Steve's good judgement. "Hey, no matter how fucked up you are, I'm not gonna stop loving you any time soon."
It's the first time he's said he loves Bucky, and he blushes, barely visible in the moonlight. Here they are, in one of the more accepting neighborhoods in an immensely anti-queer 1940's New York City, and well, he's just admitted to being madly in love with his best friend.
Clad in only briefs thanks to the heat, Bucky gets up and sets himself down on Steve's bed with Steve facing him, their legs crossed and faces close enough in proximity that well, things could happen. "Well, you sure are lucky that I love the boys just as much as I love those dames," Bucky mutters with his usual smirk. And then, sweet mercy, he's closing the distance, and he and Steve are kissing and it's nothing like Steve has ever felt but damn it if Bucky isn't good at pressing them together in all the right places and snaking his arms lovingly around Steve to envelope him and pull him into his lap.
Who knew that life could be this crazy, Steve thinks, and kisses back harder.
Steve smiles at the memory, pulling the boxing tape off of his knuckles and shucking off his shirt. He lays back, feeling the sweat pool all over his now-massive body, and hears footsteps approaching his door but doesn't bother to get up. The radio's playing, the singer's soft voice crooning out strains of New York I love you, but you're bringing me down as soft trumpets and piano chords fill up the background of the music. Bucky opens his door without even knocking, softly coming over to the bed and laying down next to him, draping himself over Steve and putting his arms around his friend's waist, head nestled in the crook of Steve's neck, as if he's trying to believe he truly belongs there.
"Hey, Buck?" Steve whispers, just like before.
"Yeah?" he responds softly.
"Do you remember a lot?" Steve asks tentatively. It's only been a month, and the thought of his best friend and lover and whole world being abused and tortured and used by people like Hydra is enough for him to quietly entangle his fingers in Bucky's newly cut hair.
He takes a minute to ponder the question.
"You mean a lot of myself and the way things used to be, or a lot of what they did to me? Hell, Stevie, they put me through hell and back. They tested restraints on me and put me on and off ice and made me forget almost everything. I fought to keep the good stuff though. I lost a lot of it. Everyone's trying to help me get it back but it's hard."
Steve's crying, Bucky realizes with a start. He hears the soft sobs escaping the larger man's mouth, feels the hot, salty tears against his temple when he adjusts himself so that he's face to face with Steve. This is important, and he's vulnerable and scared and hasn't been as raw as this in years. He's been alone and inhuman, a murderous, mindless, pawn on the board of some freakshow organization who thinks they can win at their twisted game. But the man next to him loves him and would do anything for him. While he knows it, it's hard to internalize.
"Bucky... Hey, it's okay... I'm here, y'know?"
And Steve Rogers, motherfucking Captain America, doesn't have words and says his name so softly that he starts crying too, sobbing with ugly, ugly, tears; letting himself be vulnerable. It hurts, but it's worth it.
"Steve?"
"Yeah?"
"Look, I know that you remember things more vividly than I do, but I remember that we were lovers. And..."
He pauses, unsure of how to translate his self-deprecating hurt into words.
"And I know that you loved me and you probably still love me. I don't want to hurt you. You deserve so much better than me - someone who's not just bits and pieces of a person, someone who's capable and who will make you happy and who won't sit in the middle of the living room screaming in Russian to try and get demons out of his head that no one else can see. I'm not the person you knew, I'm someone else, and I'm not even sure that I should've been alive to become that person-"
"Stop." Steve sits up abruptly, pulling Bucky up by the shoulders and looking at him so fiercely that Bucky only cries harder. He's terrified, and he puts his head in his hands because he's sure he's done something wrong and he's hurt the only person whom he can recall caring about.
"You are everything to me and I am willing to accept your brokenness. I don't just love you for who you were, and I sure as hell don't just love you because I want to help you fix your sorry ass broken self. I love you because I have known you for as long as I can remember and because you are still amazing to me. You are strong and you can get through this and I promise you I will be there and no matter how much it hurts, I will step away if you need me to. If it gets to a point where I need to let you go, I will let you run for miles if it helps you to find who you are. I will worry myself half to death over you. I have and I do and I will continue to worry about you."
"But what about the fact that we're not even allowed to be in love? People will hate us and think we're queers and-"
Someone's laughing. Steve is laughing. "Buck?"
"What now?"
"You know gay marriage is legal now, right?"
"Wait, what?"
"Yeah. Welcome to the 21st century."
"Can I explore it with you?"
"Sure thing, Captain."
"Hey, wait," Bucky interjects, a confused look on his face. "I thought you were the Captain. Captain America and all that."
"Well, you were the first captain - Brooklyn Tigers, best player they had."
"Oh my god. I'd forgotten about that."
Steve freezes up. Oh, no.
"It's fine," he says softly. "Thanks for telling me about things, Bucky. Just.. never forget how brave you are, okay? I want you to hold onto that."
"I don't think I can convince myself that you love me, let alone that you think of me as brave."
"Maybe this'll help convince you," Steve mutters in his ear as he pulls Bucky closer. He smushes them together, sweat and tears and all, and it's kind of gross, but then again, what would love be without a little bit of gross?
Steve is kissing him softly, prying his mouth open gently enough to melt him into a puddle, and oh god when did he get so good at this; Bucky is letting out breathy, barely audible moans as he lets himself succumb to the sensation.
Bucky pulls away for a second, giving a small gasp for air. "Wait-"
The other man stops abruptly, pulling his face away but keeping Bucky entwined in his arms. "What?"
"I forgot to say I love you too."
Rolling his eyes, Steve playfully kisses Bucky on the nose as he says "Punk."
"Jerk," Bucky retorts, pulling him in for another kiss. "Now, if we're gonna do this right, you had better get your ass up and turn on that air conditioner or someone's gonna pass out."