#intohero

[ text  /  steve, 11:50am ] Steven Grant if you don’t pick up the phone right now

HE  IS  ABOUT  TO  DECLINE.  BE  POLITE.  the  way  to  his  home,  he  knows  it  well  and  while  this  is  hell’s  kitchen  and  maybe  a  blind  man  shouldn’t  walk  alone  (  he  is  no  easy  prey  though,  he  feels  everything,  the  vibrations  on  the  ground,  the  gentle  scent  of  everyone’s  cologne  ).  all  things  consider,  he  is  maybe  a  bit  taken  with  the  alcohol  he  had  been  taken  that  night  and  in  the  end,  matt  simply  nods;  cane  on  his  hand  and  the  other  hand  reaches  for  an  arm,  ruffled  of  a  jacket  tells  him  it’s  being  offered.  “thanks.  you  don’t  have  to,  you  know?”

       “seeing zemo instead of you was a bit of a disappointment.” an understatement --------- she’d wanted to punch him right between the eyes the moment he opened his mouth. but steve being here NOW could mean only one thing. “so much for retired life, huh?”  /   @intohero​​.

“ see, it doesn’t have to be about me, ”  he retorts all too easily, too familiar with the act of deflection and ignorance of oneself.  he rolls his shoulders out, stiff and tired and he probably needs a thorough massage of some kind to work out the knots in his muscles.  “ it’s not like cap’n fury has been shooting eye daggers at me. ”  easy, that, to offload the pressure of going home to get some sleep.  at worse, he’ll drop by a bar, get a drink off the clock.  a hand comes to scratch at the back of his neck, and then he shoots a finger gun at steve’s chest.  “ but he’s been on your ass, huh?  haven’t solved that case, have you?  need some help? ”

“I’M  NOT  TAKING  THIS  PERSONALLY,  CAPTAIN.  I  UNDERSTAND.“  he  speaks,  zipper  a  bit  too  loud  for  his  taste  in  the  morning  as  he  zips  his  jacket  over  bare  chest  and  joins  in  the  quiet  steps.  “at  least  you  didn’t  sneak  out.  which  is  what  a  lot  of  people  would  do.  you  know,  the  walk  of  shame.“  a  short  pause,  as  a  hand  brushes,  rather  awkwardly,  amused  perhaps  too,  the  back  of  his  neck.  “though  there  is  nothing  to  be  shameful  here.  I  had  a  great  time.“  he  nods,  the  mask  of  his  glasses  is  forgotten  on  his  nightstand  so  brown  gaze  is  still  but  directed  at  the  soldier  as  he  shift  his  head  to  where  that  steady  heartbeat  is.  “I  might  want  a  repeat.  If  you  want.“

“steeeeeeeve.” bucky says into steve’s mouth.

it’s one of those nights—when the past catches up to them and leaves them scrambling to catch their breath. he jolts awake as soon as he feels his lover stirring beside him; is quick to bring him out of the dream through comforting touches and words. both of them have had their fair share of bad nights [ unsurprising, considering how much of their lives have been composed by tragedy ] and know how vulnerable it can leave them. but he hadn’t expected those words to come out of the other’s mouth. even steve looks surprised that he’d blurted them out. “hey,” there’s an undeniable knot of guilt forming in his stomach, but he forces himself to push it down; the blankets fall and pool at his waist as hands come up to cup steve’s face with a gentleness reserved only for moments like these. thumbs stroking over his cheeks gently, “i’m here, steve. i love you. i’m not going anywhere, you hear me? not unless you want me to.”