#cuddlebunnies

Touch-starved. For Bucky, it's the realization that not every bit of physical contact is connected to pain or a form of manipulation to keep him docile. It's apple scented hair that he can bury his nose in, a body that he can wrap himself around... even if it's disconcertingly bigger than what he remembers. It's pressing kisses to that spray of freckles on a shoulder, pressing an ear to a heart that, thank God, beats steadily, listening to his baby take an easy breath. For Steve, it's home again in Brooklyn, the safety of having those familiar strong arms around him. There's a new addition to Bucky's familiar scent of spring rain (yeah, he knows it's not quite accurate but that is how Steve describes how Bucky smells to him) and it's because of the metal arm. He doesn't care about that though. Sometimes he presses reverent kisses to the seam of where metal meets scarred skin, before he moves on to the other scars on Bucky's body. Loving on his best guy, his fella, comes easy now - there is seventy-odd years of missed opportunities and regrets to make up for. The boys are not sure which one of their new family of misfits nicknames them "cuddlebunnies" (Natasha? Darcy? Tony still hasn't forgiven Bucky for #SmolTony...) but they actually don't mind the teasing that much. Just as long as nobody interrupts their cuddle time!