#bs8

Watching as the smoke billowed through the dark night sky, Bucky sat quietly legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Up here he could hear the rushing of the cold river below him, and behind him he could hear Dum Dum’s loud rumbling laugh from the fire at their campsite not far off from the treeline. The Howlies had taken this night to rest, regain some of their energy before they were undoubtedly thrown into another small battle of war. Bucky had uncharacteristically excused himself from the group that evening, itching for a smoke. He had picked up the habit rather recently, while at war -- he was never able before not with Steve’s asthma and all around sick nature. But it’s different now, everything is different now. Besides the clear fact that they’re at war, what tugs the most at Bucky’s heart is how Steve is different. Once barely weighing over ninety pounds and barely reaching Bucky’s shoulder, the other male is practically a god among men -- taller than he is now and harboring the strength of what could only be one hundred men. Thinking about the strength stirs multiple feelings inside of Bucky. A creeping arousal seems to curl in his stomach whenever he watches the other throw several grown men barreling through a wall with one hand -- but on the other hand it frightens him how easily to seems that Steve steps into the role of protector, and despite all advancements this is still war and Steve can still die.