I discovered here that I'm much better at writing conflict than resolution! Anyway, here it is (with cuddling)


Bucky didn’t sleep.

Once Steve had fucked off and left him alone, he got up and found the Luckies he’d hidden from Steve in the back of one of the kitchen drawers. Laid chain smoking them until it felt more like a punishment than an indulgence.

It wasn’t fair, what he’d done to Steve.

Steve’s reaction had been normal. It was normal to be horrified.

He guessed he just forgot sometimes. Forgot how normal people would react to things. Forgot that he was so fucked up, he didn’t know what was normal.

He flicked the TV off, it was too bright, too loud with fake happiness.

He turned over and pressed his face into the back of the sofa.

He shouldn’t have pushed Steve. He’d said no, and it wasn’t-

He felt sick.

He knew what it made him, wiped his eyes angrily at the thought cos he didn’t have any right to be upset about it. Not when it was him that’d done it.

Not when he’d said such godawful things, when Steve’d been nothing but patient.

He would apologise. Wasn’t so great with words anymore, but Stevie would get it.

He hoped, anyway…

He should apologise now.

It’d got light while he was busy beating himself up. Steve liked to wake up with coffee. That’s what he’d do. He’d make coffee, the way Steve liked it, with too much sugar and no milk, and he’d apologise.
And he’d let Steve say all the things he’d refused to listen to for the past three weeks.

That thought made his stomach all twist in knots.

He didn’t want to hear it. Hear why Steve couldn’t carry on like this.
Why he didn’t want him anymore… Not in that way, anyway.

He felt absurdly that that might just kill him. That if Steve said that he’d just burn up into smoke.

But Stevie wanted to talk it out, and even if Bucky couldn’t be entirely sure, he was pretty certain he’d been giving in to what Steve wanted since about 1930.

He got up and made the coffee, took a slug of his own so hot it practically stripped the skin off the inside of his mouth, and scooped up Steve’s.

He hovered outside their bedroom door, unsure whether to knock. Did people do that? If it was their own bedroom?

Christ, he was fucking ridiculous.

He knocked, let himself in when there was no answer.

Steve was still zonked, sprawled out on his stomach with his feet tangled up in the sheets. An unhappy tension across his shoulders.

Unsurprising. Steve slept like the dead. Sam joked that the serum let him fit twenty-four hours into sixteen, and then he had to crash out to make up the difference. But the truth was he'd always been the same.
Bucky had always had to physically drag him outta bed so he wouldn’t be late for whatever work he’d managed to bullshit his way into that week.

He looked down at the coffee in his hand, feeling even more like a fucking idiot. It was, what, seven in the morning? Of course Steve wouldn’t be up. Of course he wouldn’t want to drink coffee in bed and let Bucky down easy.

He oughta leave. Maybe go out, give Steve time to think about how he wanted to do this. But the thought of leaving it, of having to wait all day to talk, made the knots in his stomach turn to lead.

Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted Steve now. Wanted whatever he could have of him.

Bucky put the coffee on the side. Steve wouldn't care, he claimed he liked it cold. Bucky thought that was bullshit, he just always kept forgetting about it when he made it.

There was a frown across Steve's face, faint lines pulling at his forehead even while he asleep.

Bucky was pretty damn sure he’d put them there.

"Stevie?"

Steve snuffled in his sleep but didn't wake up.

"Stevie, it's mornin. And I wanna talk to ya."

Steve made a definite noise of protest and trying to burrow down into the pillow.

Bucky was rubbing circles into his back. "Come on, punk."

"Nnnngh." Steve rolled back without opening his eyes, lifted an arm in an invitation. Bucky hesitated. Steve was asleep, by all rights should be still sore at him. He might not like it if…

Might not want him there at all.

“Bu'?” Steve crinkled up his nose, irritated at waiting and that just broke all of his resolve.

He slipped into the space Steve had made and Steve instantly lolled all over him like a giant cat.

Bucky let himself doze, going over his apology in his head, and then over nothing at all as Steve’s weight and warmth left no room for anything else.

Bucky was content to stay like that all day.

Eventually Steve managed to rouse himself a little, speech still all sleep slurred. "Y' came back t' bed."

"Mmhmm. ‘Bout five hours too late."

Steve kissed the back of his neck. "Y'OK?"

For a second, Bucky thought he might cry and bit his lip cos that'd derail all of this, and he wanted to apologise.

"Don't." He felt Steve sit up, his hand drop onto his shoulder, but didn't look back to meet his eyes. "Don't be nice about it."

"Bucky-"

"No. I shouldn't’ve pushed ya, Stevie. You didn't want to, and it-"

“Buck-“

“Let me talk, punk. I- I don't want to be that person. I don’t…"

Steve laid back down, snaked his hand over to clasp at Bucky's. "Jesus, Buck. Don't even think it. Don’t ever think that." He trailed off and Bucky could hear the barely contained anger in him, could just about feel it shaking in him. "You couldn’t ever-"

“You couldn’t either.”

“What?”

Bucky rolled over so he could him in the face. "That’s what you said last night, wasn’t it? You couldn’t touch me cos… Cos of that.”

Steve just looked at him, ran his eyes over his face. He dropped his head into Bucky’s shoulder “Fuck. I never meant to make you feel-”

“You didn’t.” Bucky said it instantly, even though it wasn’t true, because he couldn’t bear that look on Steve’s face. Bucky let his hand drift into Steve's hair. "I wanna talk about it."

Steve didn't answer for a long while. "Alright."

"But I don't think I can talk about... that. Not about what happened."

"OK."

"Stevie, please."

"I'm sorry." Steve pressed a kiss onto his chest, the only bit of skin he could reach without sitting up. "I want you to know that if we don't ever do that again, I'm OK with that. I don't want you to feel you have to. I don't mind if we never do it again."

Bucky felt the familiar stab of hurt. The immediate thought that Steve didn't want him anymore, not now he knew.

He stamped that down. It was him that wanted to talk. Steve was just being honest. It wasn't his fault if it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Bucky?"

Bucky sighed, went through a half dozen trite statements that would effectively end the discussion, then changed his mind.

He didn't want to carry this all alone anymore.

"I don't want that."

Steve leant up on his elbow, searching his face. "What do you want?"

What did he want? He wanted everything to be like it was. He wanted their tenement and their crappy day jobs, and the window pane that leaked every time it rained.

He wanted Steve on top of him, all sharp lines and bright eyes. He wanted Steve beneath him, warm and smelling like home, in the midst of all the mud and the shells.

He wanted all of that. Pressing his hand over Steve's mouth, in case he made too much noise when he came. Having to stop every time they heard footsteps on the stairs, breathing into each other’s skin, pulses thudding in their ears, waiting for the knock on the door.

He looked at Steve, still right here. Still looking at him that same damn way.

"I want to feel like we’re in it together again.”

Steve frowned. “We are.”

“Like it was. Without all this other shit in between.” He sat up, forced Steve to as well, so they were facing each other properly. He reached out to squeeze at Steve's hand. "I guess I just want you back." He shrugged. "I want myself back too."

Steve made a noise in the back of his throat. "Buck-"

“So tell me the truth, Stevie.” He was crying, he realised vaguely. “What is it you want?”

Steve leant forward and kissed him, which wasn’t really an answer.

But then again, Bucky supposed it was.

***
They manoeuvred themselves so they were sat up against the headboard, all wrapped up in each other. Steve was drawing circles against his stomach, smiling. "You've been smoking."

Bucky grinned back. "And you’re a goddamn bloodhound."

"Am I gonna have to search the house again?"

"I finished the pack. ‘Sides, you can’t find anythin for shit. Oh, and I made you coffee." He gestured over to the side.

Steve practically lit up, grabbing the mug from the side. "Perfect."

He knocked it back like it hadn’t been sat there for an hour. Bucky couldn't help but smile again.

Steve settled down again, trailing fingers up and down his side. “What did’ya mean…”

“Mmmm?”

“When you said you couldn’t… um…”

“Oh.”

Embarrassment welled up again. The need to just curl up into a ball. To sink into the fucking earth so he didn’t have to see all that pity.

But that was just stupid. It was him that just made a goddamn speech.

It felt so fragile. Like there were strands of spider silk binding them together. And he’d been trying to hold it together with his bare hands, with lies and fake smiles.

It’d only just occurred to him, that maybe it was him snapping the strands.

He caught Steve’s hand, entwined their fingers. “Umm… I can’t really feel it, so I can’t, you know… without something inside me.”

“Can’t feel it?”

“All my nerves are fucked, Stevie.”

Between the electricity and the ice, it’s a wonder they didn’t fry out his entire nervous system.

Steve made a noise, squeezed his hand tighter. “I need you to promise me somethin.”

Bucky kissed the top of his head. “Anythin.”

“If we’re gonna do this, I need you to see a doctor.” He sat up when he must have felt him tense. “I don’t mean right away, but Buck, I gotta know that I’m not hurtin you bad, ok?”

That was fair.

“Alright.”

“And I gotta know that you’ll stop me, if it’s too bad. I can’t… I just can’t…”

Bucky kissed him. “You too, punk. You gotta tell me if I’m comin on too strong.”

Steve smiled. “Never had too much problem on that count.”

“We are doin this then?”

“Course.” Steve laid back down, squirmed his arms around his waist. “I ain’t gonna leave my best guy cold.”

Bucky smiled.

“I mean it, Buck.” Steve said it in that tone that no one in their right mind would argue with. “We’ll figure it out.”