#userpeterparker

ellie this is so so late, like months late, but you’re one of my best friends and i love you so much and here is just a snippet of this <3“Dance with me!”

"Dance with me."

Steve glances up from his sketchpad and towards the direction the soft voice came from. Bucky is standing next to their radio, his back to Steve as he fiddles with it and music fills their tiny apartment.

The music was already too upbeat for Steve to possibly attempt at being successful, and as Bucky turned back around, a grin spreading across his face, Steve returned his attention to his sketchpad.

"Dance with yourself, Buck." Steve mutters, barely audible over the swing music that Bucky turned up a little louder as he did just that.

"Don't know why you bother sayin' that, when we both know I will. But that wasn't what I said." Bucky says, undeterred as he makes his way across their bare living room. Stopping in front of the couch and nudging Steve's leg with his own foot, he held his hand out while he continued to swing to the beat.

"C'mon, Steve." Bucky says softly, eyes always shining with the hope that Steve will join him every time he asks Steve to dance. He's never once said yes, no matter how much Bucky wheedled.

"No. Don't know why you bother, when we both know that I can't dance." Steve grouses, not looking up as he hunches his shoulders more. He can already feel the heat rushing to his face, whether out of anger or embarrassment he can't say, especially as a silence grows between them.

Steve knows how the argument is going to play out, it always ends the same way. Bucky will tell him he can teach him, that it's no big deal. Steve will get defensive and decline. Bucky will continue to push, Steve will snap at him, they'll move on.

It's happened several times before, and despite how much Steve wishes he could just say yes, he can't. He can't.

Steve is barely 90 lbs soaking wet, his spine is crooked, his asthma could flare up, flat feet; not to mention two left feet while he's at it.

As much as Steve wants to say yes, he can't. Not just because of all the things that plague him, but also because Steve knows that it's because Bucky wants to go out and won't leave Steve alone.

He'd rather be dancing with a pretty dame, and he's stuck in their rundown, small apartment, on a summer night, because Steve had finally just gotten over another fever two days before.

As much as Steve wants to say yes, he can't.

Steve glances back up as the silence lasts and Bucky just stares at him. He's dropped his hand and just gives Steve a small, almost sad, smile and nods to himself.

"Okay, Stevie." He murmurs to himself before he turns back to the radio, turns it off, and heads off down the hall to their bedroom.

Steve frowns as he watches Bucky go, not putting up the same fight he usually would. Opening his mouth to call out to him, nothing comes out. The only sounds are of the wind blowing in through the opened window and of their neighbors going about their business.

Closing his mouth and sighing heavily, Steve looks back down at the nearly finished sketch he'd started long before Bucky had gotten home from work.

The two of them were dancing, relaxed and happy. It wasn't to what Steve saw Bucky usually dance to when he dragged him along on a rare night out when he scored them a double date, or even what he hummed and dance to at home by himself.

It was a slow song, the two of them close, with Bucky taking the lead. In the drawing, it didn't matter that Steve wasn't some dame that Bucky could pick up if he wanted without even trying. But after all, that's not how it was, so he just can't say yes.

Sometimes all I want to do is head west on 20 in a car I can't afford with a plan I don't have - just me, my music, and the road.