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No Place Like Home

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"Well, fuck," Bucky says in the other room, clear as a bell over the pouring rain.

"Language, Barnes," Steve calls. He's got the broad blocks of the piece down, and if he can just get the major lines down before bed, he'll be set to take it to class Monday, even if Bucky complains about the graphite smell keeping him up and blacking the sheets.

“Wasn't me,” Bucky yells back, and then—“Fuck.”

“Yeah, no shit,” says another voice, Bucky but not Bucky. Steve turns from his make shift desk in the bedroom and that's—yeah. That's Bucky and not-Bucky, glaring at each other where Bucky stands there staring at an older, broader, nakeder version of himself glaring right back from their bathtub in the kitchen.

Steve stands despite the vertigo, swaying on his feet a little as the two of them turn to look at him. Bucky's in his undershirt and suspenders with a frayed paperback in his hand, just stood up from the armchair by the bedroom door, the other one in the tub with his hair tied up in a bun like a gal and little pearl earrings besides.

Besides, well.

The metal arm and all.

“What the hell,” Steve breathes, because that's clearly Bucky sitting bare-assed naked in their tub, and Bucky's just as clearly standing right next to him.

“Language,” Bucky breathes next to him.

“Get me some goddamn pants and I'll explain,” the older Bucky snaps, and he sounds just like Bucky's cousins on the Hogan side, older and meaner than Bucky. “Goddamn Wanda, should have goddamn known what clicking my heels together three times would get me.”

“What's that mean?” Bucky demands, and the older one, Barnes, snorts.

“Exactly what it fuckin' sounds like—that look natural to you?” Barnes says, waving his hand. Steve follows his gesture, and out the window, the rain's stopped. Except. Not stopped, like stopped raining, but stopped, hanging in the air outside the window. Steve swallows and doesn't look out the window, afraid if he does there won't be anything else moving outside the apartment either. “Pants, Steven,” Barnes says, snapping his fingers and bringing Steve back to himself.

Steve hustles for a pair of Bucky's dad's hand-me-down trousers, and he's just turned around when the older Bucky stands up in the tub—and it's—he's—broader—pretty much everywhere, and—decorated besides.

“What'd you do that to it for?” Bucky demands, frowning at it.

“Cause I fuckin' could, you dumb ninny,” Barnes says, grabbing pants away from Steve, giving Steve a once over as he steps into them before scowling right back at Bucky. “You're gonna spend long enough having other people fuck around in your head and body that piercing your dick is going to sound like the best decision you ever made, just wait.”

“Have to be a long fucking time to think that's a good idea,” Bucky mutters as Barnes steps into pants that barely fit him. They don't do much to hide the piercing; Barnes is big enough and the pants are tight enough that it stands out clearly even once he's zipped up. He's broader than his dad ever was; no taller than Bucky standing right next to him but thick and not an ounce of fat on him. His thighs alone look about as big around as Steve.

"Hey," Barnes says, grabbing Bucky by the back of the neck and hauling him in. Standing next to each other, they're even more different, Barnes almost as broad as two Buckys. Bucky goes tense under Barnes' hands, jaw clenched as he thinks about throwing a punch and thinking better of it. "You listen to me, you fucking donut,” Barnes says, low and mean. “It is gonna be a long fuckin' time, but you're gonna be okay, and Steve's gonna be okay. You hear me?” he says, and Bucky just scowls at him, looking like he's going to say something. Barnes shakes him by the scruff of the neck. “I said, you fucking hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Christ," Bucky says, trying to pull away. Steve wants to ask how long; Barnes can't even be thirty.

Barnes is meaner and stronger with age, though, not letting Bucky budge an inch, shaking him again. "Say it."

"What?"

"Say it,” Barnes says, and he looks less like Bucky than ever, focused and hard even with the little pearl earrings.

Bucky swallows, glancing at Steve. "I'm gonna be okay, Steve's gonna be okay."

"And don't you fucking forget it," Barnes says, pushing Bucky away with a metal finger tip in the middle of his forehead.

Bucky rubs between his eyebrows, scowling. "The arm make you an asshole too?" he mutters.

"Nah, that's all natural," the older Bucky says, and drapes himself into the armchair where Bucky had been reading, giving Steve that look again that makes him blush to the roots of his hair. He can feel the tips of his ears go hot and feel the weight of Bucky's frown.

“You said you were going to explain,” Bucky says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Right. Christ,” Barnes sighs, tipping his head back against the chair. Looks at the ceiling and sighs again. He needs a shave. “The short version. In the future, you're going to have a metal arm, a bad attitude, and Steve jumping on your dick every three hours just like normal. You've got a—friend, I guess, if you can call her that—who does magic or head games or who the fuck knows what, so who knows if this is even real or a hallucination or fuck knows what. She said to think about home, and—here we are.” Barnes picks his head up again to look at them, looking at Bucky but his attention clearly on Steve. It's like being cornered by a predator, Barnes tracking him even without looking at him. “It'll work itself out one way or another, anyway.”

“How far in the future?” Bucky says slowly, glancing between Barnes' metal arm and the Buck Rogers paperback in his hand.

Barnes' jaw works at that, searching Bucky up and down. There's a look between them Steve can't read, for all that he can read Bucky like a book most days, Barnes looking as dour as his father. “Far enough,” he says eventually. He turns that look on Steve, dourness traded for intensity and it shakes Steve to his stocking feet. “C'mere, gorgeous,” Barnes says, sounding nothing like his father, and reels Steve in with two fingers hooked in his trouser waist. Bucky never was very subtle about changing the subject, not that Steve minds much when he does it this way.

“Did it hurt?” Steve says before he thinks better of it. Barnes laughs dirtily and twists his metal hand in Steve's undershirt, the plates of it whirring softly as Steve's yanked off his feet and into Barnes' lap to kiss.

“Steve!” Bucky says, in that strangled, scandalized voice Steve usually has to work for these days. Steve throws a glance over his shoulder and Bucky's hovering there half hard and half scandalized, blushing when he catches Steve's look and Steve shudders with Barnes' mouth hot on his neck.

Barnes kisses like Bucky when he's hard enough to forget to be a lazy bum, both hands on Steve's face and mouth too warm, demanding as he tugs Steve down to straddle his lap. Steve shivers as Barnes puts a hand on the back of his neck and bites his lip, warm and sharp and then gone, hands smoothed down Steve's back.

“The arm was worse than the piercing,” Barnes says, and Steve can almost feel him laugh.

“It was fine without a hole in it,” Bucky mutters. He's closer than he was, Steve can almost feel the heat of him against his back.

“Yeah, but Steve likes it,” Barnes laughs, actually laughs this time, and Steve plants hands on his shoulders to keep himself steady. Barnes' cock is hard against his ass in a way that has to be painful between the piercing and the tight trousers, the rest of him thick, solid muscle radiating heat in the cool apartment. The skin around his metal arm is corded with thick scarring, and Steve traces fingertips over it gently in case it still hurts.

“He like that you look like a fruit, too?” Bucky says nastily, arms crossed tight over his chest, paperback tucked under one arm.

“Yeah,” Steve says at the same time Barnes says over Steve's shoulder, “Don't think I won't put you over my knee and teach you some manners, fruit or no.”

Bucky flushes a blotchy red just in time for Steve to see before he tries to turn away.

“Hey,” Barnes says, catching Bucky by the wrist with his metal hand and pulls him closer, all attention on Bucky now. It's unnerving, how Barnes can swivel his attention like that, like pinning a person under a spot light. “Remember what I said.”

Bucky looks between Steve and Barnes' hand, and for a minute Steve thinks he might try to take a swing, and then where will they be. Bucky just pulls his hand away after a minute, though. Not looking any less mulish, but still. “Aren't you going to, you know, fuck up time or something?” Bucky says. “Make Steve his own grandpa?”

“Fucked if I know,” Barnes says. He absently slips fingers under the waistband of Steve's trousers, fingertips running along his hip. “One way to find out. Unless you ladies want to play rummy instead?”

“What about Steve?” Bucky says, stepping closer so he can put hands on Steve's shoulders, paperback tossed on the arm of the chair. This close they don't smell the same; Barnes smells like perfume and whiskey, like Bucky when he's been out necking with girls, citrusy with cigarettes underneath, and Bucky just smells like his usual, like beer and hair cream and cigarettes.

“What about him?” Barnes says, smiling wickedly and pushing Steve's suspenders off him.

“Do I have a metal arm too? You said I'm there,” Steve says, half leaning into Barnes' hands and Bucky's hands on him. Bucky's got one hand on Steve's back and one hand in his hair, possessive without thinking about it, and Barnes traces fingers down Steve's chest, yanking his shirt untucked. The metal is warm to the touch, on its own or from contact Steve can't tell. His other hand is rougher than Bucky's, calloused in odd places.

Barnes glances at Bucky over Steve's shoulder and something like his look from before flickers over his face and then it's gone, his eyes softer when he looks back at Steve. “Nah, sweetheart,” Bucky says, taking Steve's face in his hands, and Steve can just imagine the powerful glare he's getting from Bucky. “You don't change one goddamn bit. Bony little ass and big fuck off brass balls, same as ever.”

That startles a laugh out of Bucky, short and surprised. Barnes shoots him a wicked look, glancing past him at the bedroom where they keep the vaseline.

“You really wanna do this?” Bucky says, smoothing a broad hand over Steve's shoulder.

Steve tips back to look Bucky in the eye, Barnes' hands big and warm on his thighs. “You want to?” Steve says, and then it's a dare. Bucky flicks hair out of his eyes and crosses the room to get the vaseline.

“There's always rummy,” Barnes calls after him, because he's an asshole.

Steve laughs and slips out of his lap, because they have their plans and Steve has his. Bucky glances over his shoulder and snorts as Steve gets on his knees, because why not. Barnes catches Steve's face in his hand before he gets very far, all smirk gone with just the soft look he had before.

“Christ, I missed you,” Barnes breathes. He smooths a calloused thumb over Steve's mouth, too delicate for how big his hands are. Bigger, or at least harder and more calloused, than Bucky's.

“I'm here now,” Steve says, because what else can he say. He doesn't want to know why Bucky would miss him; they'll be okay. Barnes said so. They'll be okay.

Barnes shakes himself and laughs, trying to hide it from Bucky coming back with the vaseline. Steve catches Barnes' thumb in his mouth, biting to distract him as Steve makes quick work of his trousers. That's familiar at least, even if Barnes' smell, and the bulk of him, and the way his breath hisses when Steve pulls his cock out isn't.

The piercing's bigger this close and Barnes smells like a stranger for all that he looks and talks like Bucky. This close now Steve can feel Barnes' hands on his shoulders open and close minutely, hesitant up close for as brash as he was before.

Steve wets his lips and rubs his thumb over the piercing carefully, watching Barnes' face. A shiver goes through Barnes and he cards a hand through Steve's hair, letting go of a little breath like a sigh. The piercing is just two metal studs, one in the tip and one under the head, blood warm when Steve leans in to circle it with his tongue.

Barnes' breath hitches and catches when Steve finally swallows him, the feel of the metal unfamiliar and strange on his tongue. It's too strange to let Barnes fuck his mouth like he lets Bucky do, but playing with the piercing is good, tonguing it back and forth as Barnes' hands tighten on his shoulders.

“Steve,” Barnes says, fingers twisting in Steve's hair. He glances up and Barnes is flushed, close. He's gentler than Bucky, doesn't pull or tug until Steve's sitting up on his heels, and then Barnes snaps his fingers at Bucky, holding his hand out for the slick.

Barnes takes the vaseline from Bucky, and there's a look between them when Steve takes a sharp breath at the thought of Barnes' metal fingers spreading him open, because Bucky has always and will always know Steve too well. It'd be unfair if it didn't mean Bucky tugs him up with Barnes brushing past them to the bedroom, stripping the rest of the way as he goes and Bucky shoving Steve after him with one broad hand between his shoulders.

Barnes walks in the bedroom like he knows it, stepping out of the trousers without a thought or care for Steve or Bucky. He walks more heavily than Bucky but quiet, all his weight pivoting like he's solid metal all the way down and balanced on the balls of his feet besides. He avoids the one creaky board as he goes to the bed, Steve tripping after him.

Barnes kneels on the bed, and his ass is beautiful. The metal arm is scarred all down his back, the lines of the metal plating sinuous and harsh all at once in the dim light of the bedroom, every line of muscle visible with his hair tied up like that. He looks like a fever dream, mixed up between Bucky's novels and Steve's sketches that live under the bed.

Steve stands there for half a second with his mouth open before scrambling up the bed, tangling himself in his trousers before Bucky snorts and drags Steve's pants off him. Barnes laughs, slicking himself up, and it's like trying to kiss a brick wall when Steve presses against his back. Bucky makes a strangled noise when Barnes leans down on both arms, ass in the air and Steve wastes no time.

Barnes is hotter than Steve imagined, breath gone short as he eases in and Barnes relaxes around him. Bucky curses under his breath and climbs up the bed after Steve, hot as he presses against Steve's back with his hard cock pressed to the back of Steve's thigh.

Bucky's hands tighten on Steve's waist, warm and solid with Steve between the two of them. The two of them feel like sunshine on a brick wall, hot and inescapable, enveloping and blinding. Barnes takes one sly glance over his shoulder and pushes back against Steve, the beautiful tight muscles of his back coiled under skin as he moves. Steve runs hands down Barnes' spine as Bucky nips at his shoulder, trying to be a distraction.

He's a pretty good distraction, grinding against Steve's ass as he fucks Barnes in short sharp strokes, Bucky twisting Steve's nipple as he starts to get a rhythm. It's enough to make him shudder and Steve can't tell if it's Barnes or Bucky laughing dirtily. Bucky rubs the head of his cock against Steve's ass, the tip slick with precome, and bites down hard as Steve digs fingers into Barnes' thighs.

Barnes is all thick hard muscle, his ass perfect and scalding hot to touch. His hands twist in the sheets and he slants a look at Steve, eyes heavy lidded.

“You're a fuckin' moron,” Barnes says over his shoulder to Bucky. “Fuck you for waiting too long for this.”

“When'd you get to be so goddamn smart?” Bucky snarls over Steve's shoulder.

“Forty-five or so,” Barnes breathes into the mattress. “You're gonna have a fuckin' year in forty-five, I tell you what.”

Bucky growls into Steve's shoulder and brings his fingers up for Steve to suck, and between Barnes' shuddery breathing and Buckys' calloused fingers in his mouth, there's not much room left to think about four years from now.

Then Bucky's pressing fingers into Steve's ass with no preamble, just hot pressure as he fucks Barnes. Bucky twists fingers in Steve's hair and drags him around to kiss and then lets him go just as fast, whiplash between the two of them.

Barnes strokes himself as Steve fucks him, face flushed and pressed to the mattress with his eyes closed and lips parted. He's too vulnerable, more vulnerable than Bucky would ever let himself be, and the thought catches Steve by surprise because Barnes is invulnerable in every way that Bucky isn't, hard and dangerous and here's Steve fucking him with Bucky hot against his back.

Steve comes with that thought in his head, thinking about how vulnerable and dangerous Barnes is and it hits him like a truck, fingers digging into the hard muscle of Barnes' thighs and back as Bucky bites his shoulder hot and bright. It's too much and then it's more than that, Barnes and Bucky keeping him trapped between them as Barnes finishes with Steve still in him, Steve's chest working like a bellows as Barnes comes. Barnes gasps and twists under him, slick and tight as he reaches back to dig metal fingers into Steve's ass, grinding back into him.

Barnes rolls over with a sigh, the bed creaking heavily under him as he tugs Steve down to him. The bed is too small with just the two of them; it's doubly too small with two Buckys, and one of them built like a brick shithouse besides. Steve ends up flopped half over Barnes' chest and wedged between them, sticky hot with Bucky's hard cock pressed against his thigh.

Bucky makes a little disgruntled noise when Barnes reaches for Bucky's smokes on the nightstand and lights one, Bucky tugging Steve closer by the waist.

“You wanna do me like that, Steve?” Bucky says, rubbing his stubble on Steve's shoulder. Barnes is miles of lazy muscle under him and Bucky is all restless energy against his back; Steve could go again with Bucky fucking him, but only if Bucky did all the work and Barnes held him up. Which has its appeal.

“Tomorrow?” Steve says hopefully.

“I can help you out with that, give it five or so,” Barnes says around his cigarette, head pillowed on one arm.

Bucky laughs. “No fuckin' way.”

“Why not?” Steve says, half rolling over. “It's basically masturbating, you do that all the time anyway.”

Barnes snorts. Bucky glares at them both. “I meant, no fuckin' way you can get it up again in five, your dick isn't metal too.”

“Yeah?” Barnes says again. He rolls the cigarette in his fingers, looking at it thoughtfully and pulling Steve to him tighter. Bucky pulls back, so Steve's crushed between them with Barnes' arm around his shoulders and Bucky's around his waist. About the only good thing about it is they both stink like sweat and radiate enough heat to keep his toes from getting too cold. Steve elbows them both so he can breathe.

“Stevie,” Barnes says, turning his face to press his nose into Steve's hair and breath deep. “You remember that time in thirty-five, we came home from the movies and I fucked you against the wall?”

I fucked him against the wall,” Bucky snaps.

Barnes just hums a laugh and presses a kiss to Steve's forehead, turning to stub out his cigarette. He rolls back enough to kiss Steve, nothing like Bucky's usual slow lazy making time even if the ashtray taste is familiar. Between the two of them, Bucky's cock presses thick and hot against the back of Steve's thigh and Steve can feel him practically bursting with jealousy as Barnes kisses Steve deep and doesn't let him up for air. Barnes isn't just talk, either, he's half hard again already, rolling his hips against Steve like he might pull them out of bed to fuck after all.

Barnes finally lets him gasp for air, nipping little bites down Steve's throat and he'll be raw with stubble burn between the two of the by morning. Steve can feel Barnes smirk over his shoulder at Bucky before he even opens his mouth again, Bucky's hands tightening on Steve's bony hips.

“How hard d'you think you'd come if it was both of us holding you up to fuck you, Stevie?” Barnes says in a low voice that he must have picked up somewhere. After forty-five, maybe. “You think you can take both of us at the same time, sweetheart?”

Bucky growls at that, shoving Barnes over on his back and straddling him. For a half second it looks like Bucky's going to get punched, Barnes tense all over, but then they're kissing, or at least more kissing than just biting. Bucky strokes them together and Steve risks broken fingers to fumble for the vaseline on the windowsill.

They'd never be a match in a fair fight, Barnes' hands on Bucky's thighs tight enough that it must hurt. Barnes pushes himself up on one elbow and hauls Bucky in with one hand as Steve uncaps the vaseline, and neither of them bother being as gentle with each other as they do with him. It'd be enough fantasy to get Steve through a lifetime if they weren't half frightening together, threatening to jostle him off the bed.

Steve settles himself behind Bucky, because if Bucky is really going to do this, he'll need to be as good and slicked up as he can get. Steve runs a hand up Bucky's back and that settles them both, some of the tension easing out of Bucky's back with Steve's hands on him.

Barnes looks at Steve like he knows exactly what Steve's thinking, and maybe he does. Steve nudges Bucky forward so that he's straddling Barnes with his ass in the air, and Bucky has just enough time to glare over his shoulder before he realizes what Steve's actually doing.

A shiver runs through Bucky as Steve drags nails down his back and leans in to tease Bucky with just the tip of his tongue.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky breathes into Barnes' chest, and Barnes laughs dirtily.

Bucky is all tense, shaky muscle under Steve's hands and mouth, back arching into it until Barnes throws an arm over his back and keeps him in place. Steve circles with his tongue, even easy movements until Bucky relaxes into it enough to press the tip of one slicked finger into him. Bucky curses and pushes back into it.

Steve teases at his rim and fucks him slowly, wondering if he can talk Bucky into doing this again even once he's worked whatever this is out of his system. Barnes shifts under them, making soothing noises, and Bucky growls back, a shiver going through him when Steve replaces his finger with his tongue.

“Steve, Steve, c'mon,” Bucky pants, and Steve sits back on his heels. Bucky tugs Steve around for a messy kiss, Barnes' metal hand tightening on Steve's thigh while Barnes slicks his cock up. He's thicker than Steve and with the metal piercing besides, but Bucky's still hard, cheeks flushed like he hardly ever gets. Barnes just holds the base of his cock steady, waiting placidly and watching Steve with those predator's eyes. Bucky gives Steve one last challenging look before steadying himself down.

The breath goes out of Bucky like a punch, pushing himself too fast. Steve kisses down his chest to help Bucky go slow, smoothing hands over his chest and back to ease him into it.

“Relax, sweetheart, relax, take it slow,” Barnes says, smoothing hands down Bucky's thighs.

“Fuck you,” Bucky breathes, rolling his hips like it's a competition, like he means to win. His hands are tight on Barnes' chest, one hand planted solidly on the metal shoulder and the other digging nails into skin. Barnes' jaw works like he might say something, his expression unreadable, but he just keeps his broad hands on Bucky's thighs, his hair starting to come out of its neat bun around him on the pillow.

Steve puts his hands on Bucky's face to distract him, kissing him slow how he likes. Bucky leans into it, the big sap, melting into it as Steve drags nails through his hair and lets him kiss as slow as he wants. Barnes rolls his hips into Bucky, fucking him in shallow, smooth motions, and at least in sex they still move alike because that's pure Bucky when he wants to torture Steve with wanting it.

Because, of course, Bucky always tries to fuck Steve the way Bucky wants to be fucked, slow and gentle. Even if Bucky would never admit that to Steve or himself, Barnes knows it already.

Bucky makes a small noise against Steve's mouth as Barnes fucks him, and they're both so vulnerable in different ways, Barnes and Bucky, and Steve doesn't want to think about why too closely as Barnes tugs one of Steve's hands down to hold, lacing their fingers together.

Barnes sits up on one elbow, all attention on Steve even as he fucks Bucky, and there's a moment stretched thin where Steve's pulled between them, between the Bucky he knows and the Bucky he doesn't. Bucky gives him one last desperate kiss before letting Barnes tug him away, and then Steve is caught between them as Barnes comes, metal hand tight on the back of Steve's neck and flesh hand tight on Bucky's thigh.

Steve can feel the shudder that goes through Bucky, Bucky's mouth hot and bright against Steve's shoulder as he rides it out. Barnes kisses like a drowning man, biting Steve's lip in the way that Bucky only does when he's too far gone to remember to be too gentle.

Bucky comes with a gasp, clinging onto Steve for dear life, shuddering against him as Barnes fucks him relentlessly through it. It's like being caught in a tidal wave, pulled and pushed between the two of them so he can hardly breathe.

Bucky tugs Steve down to lie with him, curling around Steve like he and Barnes are a pair of parentheses. They're like a pair of walls, blocking out the rest of the world. Barnes fits perfectly against Steve's back, breathing deep and even as he hooks an arm around Steve's waist and tucks him close. Between the three of them the room is sticky hot and damp, and Steve is selfishly grateful he gets to have this and his future self doesn't. Barnes and Bucky are both his for the moment, even if they don't like each other much.

But of course Bucky can't leave it, worrying it like a broken tooth. “So does future mean five years or ten?” Bucky says to the top of Steve's head just as Steve's started to drift.

Barnes huffs an annoyed sigh. “C'mon, you walnut,” Barnes said, tugging Bucky out of bed with him by the arm. “You're gonna be that way, come have a smoke. Maybe a drink too.” Steve sits up on his elbows, but Barnes just waves at him to stay in bed, both of them hauling on their trousers to go smoke in the kitchen.

They could be brothers, or cousins, they're so dissimilar silhouetted against the kitchen light. Barnes stands too even, his weight planted solidly like he's a wall; Bucky's light on his feet as he dances in and out of reach taking the lighter and cigarettes from Barnes and passing them back, like he's afraid of being contaminated even though they were fucking not five minutes ago.

They're too quiet for Steve to hear; Barnes would be unrecognizable except that he knows things like exactly how to pitch his voice so Steve can't hear.

They've both got the same tight affect when they cross their arms over their chests, though, body language gone tight and closed until Bucky glances over his shoulder and catches Steve watching. They both shake it off then, whatever they were talking about, and if they don't look alike or act alike, they both know how to hide what they're thinking from Steve.

They talk for a half hour, then an hour, then Steve starts to lose track of their cigarettes. He half wakes up sometime later with Bucky shoving him over and Barnes wrapping around him hot as a furnace, and the ashtray is full to bursting. Steve elbows one of them and the other one snickers, wedging Steve between them so that Barnes is tucked in behind him and Steve's nose is pressed to Bucky's collarbone. There's too many knees for the narrow bed, but it's too warm sandwiched between the two of them to care for very long.


Barnes is gone in the morning. Steve and Bucky are still crushed up together on one side of the bed and Barnes' trousers are still slung over the chair, so something about last night was real. Real enough, anyway.

Bucky's watching him with blurry, fond eyes when Steve scoots out from under him. He's all sappy, reaching out to brush hair out of Steve's face when he settles.

“What'd you talk about last night?” Steve says. He can tell already Bucky won't tell him, but he can't not ask.

Bucky just smiles his sleepy smile and pets Steve's hair. “Nothing. You.” Bucky snuggles closer and pulls Steve into him. “How fucking lucky I am.”