Heartlines ;;

For a long time, Bucky refused to let it be touched. It was in good shape so there was no need to retraumatize Bucky to being forced to sit for long periods of time to fix a metal arm he never asked for. But then in a mission gone wrong, Bucky’s arm was almost fully taken off. The man was distraught by the thought alone of anyone looking at it but shield at picked Steve not only for his genius mind but his small unthreatening stature. Someone who looked like they could not physically harm Bucky actually did put Bucky at ease. He wouldn’t be held down and tortured by someone who was half his size. It seemed to be a match made in heaven. 

Now he sees Steve pretty regularly for updates and check ups on his arms. He still has a hard time for extended periods but the other man seems more than understanding -- not many people are. However this visit is not one of the regulars. In their last mission, Bucky’s arm was struck with an electromagnet and can’t remove it with his hand. The arm is useless and every few minutes a sharp electric pulse makes the man jolt. So it’s no wonder he’s gone straight to Steve, despite the blood dripping from other parts of him. Those will heal, his arm will not. The door to the lab is open and Bucky stands in the doorway quietly for a few long moments. He would take longer to admire but he’s in a bit of pain and he doubts Steve will like the blood he’s dripping on the floor. “They got my arm.” He says suddenly towards the man, still standing in the door way waiting to be invited in. 

The first time had been a fluke, honestly. It had been a moment of Steve being tired of the boys picking on him for not being intimate with a woman. Bucky just happened to be his best friend, a person he could trust to show him the ropes. That -- and Bucky had been in his line of sight at the time. It was a heat of the moment sort of thing, after they had woken up the next morning it was never spoken of again. The problem with that is Bucky thought of it almost nonstop. Anytime he even looked at Steve all of a sudden he was thrown back into his memories. He could feel Steve’s flushed skin under his hands, taste his skin on the tip of his tongue and practically see Steve panting for air underneath him. Bucky was always hot under his collar and it was hard to push the memories to the side. Not when that moment was everything he’d ever wanted in his life. He’d dreamt of it, quite literally. But now he wakes up drenched in sweat and his boxers a little too tight in the middle of the night. Worst of all, half the time he’s curled right up next to Steve when he happens. Then the cycle happens all over again, he’s greeted with Steve’s warm body pressed against his own. He longs to just press his mouth along the slender column of Steve’s throat, to trade slow kisses until they’re both wanting more. But that won’t happen, and it will never happen again.

And that’s the goddamn problem, isn’t it? Before all of this Bucky could handle how he felt because he had never gotten a chance to experience it. He could sit and daydream all he’d like but it would never be the real thing. Now he’s had a taste. It was like taking a bite of the forbidden fruit and Bucky can never go back to the way things were. He’d finally felt what it was like to kiss Steve, to feel those nails press so hard into his skin they leave marks, to hear him groan out his name. There was nothing that would ever compare to that night, so now it’s stuck in his head playing on a loop. Bucky can never escape it, the memory always lingers. There’s always something that reminds Bucky of their night together and he swears at this point that he’s losing his mind. He feels like he can’t focus on anything except the ghost of Steve’s touch along his spine. Bucky has to wonder if he’s been possessed, or perhaps being punished to get a taste once but never able to indulge again.

This night isn’t unusual to Bucky anymore. With Steve’s slender form pressed up against him, sleeping soundly and he lays awake staring at the ceiling. He tries to draw shapes on the ceiling with his eyes or to think about everything he has to do tomorrow but his mind keeps unraveling and landing back on Steve. The line of the smaller man pressed against his side, the way his breathing is even and deep, the way he’s blanket warm and his eyelashes fan perfectly across his freckled cheekbones. Bucky swears he had it bad, but it was never like this. He could at least push the thoughts away long enough to function but now this is just getting out of hand. Finally, Bucky sits up. He can’t lay here any longer and feel like he’s going out of his mind. The male props his elbows up on his knees and drops his head into his hands. The breaths he takes are slow and deep, trying to relax himself. When he almost begins to feel his heart start to settle, a slender hand is pressed against his spine. That’s when a shuttered breath is taken in. Of course he’s woken up Steve. Bucky shouldn’t be surprised. The two have always been far more connected than they should be. If one is up, so is the other. “ ‘m alright.” A low chuckle is caught in his throat, addressing Steve before he even speaks. He knew what the question was going to be anyways. “Just got a lot on my mind.” He tells him, and it’s the truth. He just won’t tell what exactly his thoughts are being consumed with. Their night together was supposed to be a one time thing. He doesn’t need to bring it up again and make Steve uncomfortable with the fact that he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since it’s happened. The other doesn’t ask questions, thankfully. Sometimes things are better left unspoken and Steve understands that. So the smaller male sits quietly next to him, and his hand rubs slow circles along his bare back. Despite the fact that it has been the memory of Steve that had been causing Bucky torment, this does help relax him a little. It helps him focus on something else besides the feelings that feel as if they’re always bubbling over and causing Bucky to drown. 

It’s quiet for a while, only their breathing can be heard. Bucky feels almost like he’s sweated out a fever. It’s a bit of a relief if he’s honest, maybe he can actually get some sleep tonight. However when he turns to tell Steve he’s ready to lay back down and get some shut eye, he’s met with something he’s not expecting. Steve’s always been the bravest of the two of them. A warm press of lips makes Bucky’s skin breakout in goosebumps. It’s short lived, and even in the dark he can see those wicked blue eyes searching his own, looking for an answer. Bucky will give him the answer. He surges forward, catching Steve’s mouth in another kiss. He hardly expected to get one kiss, but now here they are again, sharing kisses. Bucky’s hand comes up to cradle Steve’s face and the other’s slender arms wrap eagerly around his neck. Bucky swears kissing Steve is better the second time around. Their lips just seem to melt into each other, moving like they’ve got all the time in the world. Bucky’s free hand curls around Steve’s slender waist, pulling the other into his lap. Thankfully Steve seems to get the memo, crawling into his lap like he belongs there. -- And Steve does belong there, Bucky feels as if he was made to fit there. The other’s legs fit snugly around his own waist and Steve’s fingers made home in Bucky’s hair. They tangle in the once slicked locks, and Bucky can’t help but sigh into the other’s mouth. Any tension or stress he’d been feeling all of a sudden just melts away. Nothing else in the world matters right now except the way that Steve is kissing him. 

Bucky finally settles at the table, already digging into his food. He’s starving from the long day down at the docks. “So, you miss much from class while you were out with the flu?” He knows Steve hates missing those classes, they cost a pretty penny that they almost don’t have. Though Bucky wouldn’t hear it when Steve tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary. He wanted Steve to have something nice after Sarah’s passing -- something to make him happy again. So art classes it was. 

It doesn’t take too much longer for the soldier to find his captain. Much like the soldier’s own scene, it’s bloody. But that doesn’t bother him, not when it’s a mirror of his own actions. Instead he approaches the captain slowly, metal arm hanging uselessly at his side. The soldier doesn’t understand what happens next, but it always does. They’ve got agents to do this for them, agents that do in fact to it for him but the soldier wants first glance over. A flesh hand reaches up to grab the captain’s face, pulling it down to eye level as he examines him. There’s blood on the other’s face and the soldier doesn’t know if it belongs to the captain or not. He doesn’t care, he lets his thumb swipe away the blood and despite himself he smears that blood onto his own lips and cleans the digit off with his mouth. The soldier knows what Hydra’s first question would be to them ‘did you complete the mission’ but that is not the soldier’s first question. “Are you hurt?” He doesn’t know why he needs to know but he does. It helps alleviate the strange ache in his chest.

Everett Seymour

However it had been awhile since Thor had been there. With everything quiet on the planet, he was not needed there like he was on Asgard. But he missed his friends something fierce. A certain friend in particular. A man that he views as a noble warrior and an even nobler man. Steve Rogers. The two had a great deal in common, even more so below the surface. Thor was never content to sit and let the world fall to pieces if he couldn’t stop it and neither was Steve. So with the settling of dust on Earth, Thor invited Steve to Asgard. Not only could they use his help with a bit of manual labor but it would be so nice to show another friend his open even if it’s still in shambles. He’s proud of his home and his people for coming back twice as strong. 

When Hemidall had summoned him to the Bifrost, Thor knew the exact reason he was being called. “There you are! I was worried you wouldn’t accept my invitation.” He greets Steve warmly, wrapping him up into a hug. He’s a bit sweaty and his once again long hair is falling from where it’s been pulled back. He doesn’t think Steve will mind. Thor has always been a physical being but even more so with friend. His laughter is warm as he gives the man a pat on the back. “I’ve missed you. I do hope you’ll forgive the state my home is in, we’re still recovering. I was hoping to get your help with a few things.” His arm stays on Steve’s back for a few seconds guiding him towards the cracked rainbow bridge that connects the Bifrost to the rest of Asgard. Despite the rubble, the gold buildings still shimmer in the sun and the ocean still smells that of sweet mountain grass. “Welcome to Asgard!”

Besides Bucky had heard from the fellas on the docks that Manhattan had a flourishing gay scene. A few men had taken their partners out to some secret location and had the time of their lives. The problem with that is that Bucky couldn’t exactly take Steve to swing seeing as he didn’t want to kill Steve on the first date. But he had gotten the name of the neighborhood that seemed to turn a little more of a blind eye to two fellas. Of course no where was really safe for them but it was better than most spots in Brooklyn right now. He had heard about the bar that got busted a few weeks back and it hit a little too close to home. He knew that the underground scene was going to have to build up a little more outside of the docks before he and Steve could go out around here. So Manhattan it was, even if it did mean he’d have to spent a little more money out there. 

Of course it wouldn’t be a real date if Bucky didn’t come pick him up like a gentlemen should. Bucky is well aware of Sarah’s open mind so he isn’t all that worried as he knocks on apartment door. He leans his back easily on the door frame trying to make himself seem a little more suave and earn a bit of a laugh he’s sure. “Come on, Stevie. Got your best jacket on yet?” He calls through the thin wood door. 

So far he feels like he’s hidden pretty damn well, kept the coughs as just clearing his throat or covered by their loud running water. But tonight was rough. So rough that the fellas down at the docks had told Bucky to go the hell home and gave him pay if he promised he’d drag his sickly ass back home. While it wasn’t ideal, he still got paid and that was really the silver lining in all this. The walk home is long and Bucky swears if this is how Steve feels all the time he isn’t sure how he musters up the courage to get our of bed in the morning. His bones ache and his chest feels someone’s sitting on it. The biggest problem he’s gonna face is keeping his distance from Steve. Not only does he want comfort feeling like this but he knows that being sent home early is a clear sign that something is wrong. Bucky never comes home early, in fact he often does the opposite. He tries to work as much overtime as he can so he can Steve aren’t having to look under couch cushions for pennies. 

His feet drag up the stairs and he realizes maybe it wasn’t smart to work the morning shift at the YMCA this morning then attempt to try to work on the docks. He’s feeling the effects of the evening sun, burning his skin and making him feel feverish. A terrible part of him hopes that Steve isn’t home. Maybe he’s on shift at the grocery store and Bucky could draw himself a hot bath and pull himself together before Steve gets home. Uncharacteristically, Bucky enters the apartment quietly. He doesn’t announce himself, instead he rests his head on the door for a moment as he locks it and carelessly tosses his jacket on the the kitchen counter. 

Adrian Bond

| you wouldn’t be shattered on the floor now

The late-night calls weren’t abnormal for Bucky. He didn’t want the other avengers snooping about and catching Steve because Bucky didn’t want to explain their relationship to anyone. In short, Steve was his sugar baby. Tony and Natasha had been on his ass for a long time to get back in the dating game. Sam suggested maybe just getting laid and it would help him stop being so tightly wound. So Bucky’s first thought was actually a prostitute and well the internet had been helpful before and before he knew it Bucky had ended up with a sugar baby. It’s not like money was that big of a deal to Bucky, after his trial with the US government the courts had ruled that Bucky was not only innocent but that he would be compensated for his many years of torture under the enemy. Money was no object to Bucky and it’s not like he had anything to spend it on anyway. So spending on someone’s bills and whatever the hell Steve wanted was hardly any skin off his back if that meant he got laid and got a little extra attention now and again. Bucky settles on the couch, legs stretching out along the length of the object as he grimaces a bit. The pressure on his back hurts but he would rather Steve see the white gauze stretched across his chest than the reddening gauze on his back.