Steve savored moments like these, moments were it was just him and Bucky curled up on the couch, watching cheesy movies.
It was a welcome change of pace from the chaos of being an Avenger, Steve could stop being Captain America and instead be Steve Rogers who curled up next to Bucky, laughing with him at the horrible special effects in Killer Clowns From Outer Space.
Bucky loved these moments where he wasn't the Winter Soldier and wasn't he that phantom killer? He loved being able to watch Steve's blue, bluer than cornflowers brighten with happiness as they shared popcorn. He loved that he could trace Steve's face lovingly, run a hand through that soft blond hair, revel in the fact that Steve, his Steve was right here with him.
There was no HYDRA to worry about, just Steve and Bucky, Bucky and Steve, two stars that had been once hurtling past each other but now were dancing, slowly, entwining their bodies with each other while time flowed past them.
As the credits roll, Bucky turns on his side to smile softly at Steve who snorts when Bucky steals his popcorn.
"That was horrible," Bucky hums, pulling Steve closer to him, brown eyes gazing into blue.
Steve's breath hitches in his throat as he gazes into Bucky's brown eyes. Though brown doesn't even seem to describe them, in the dusty afternoon sunlight the brown melts into golden rays that warm Steve more than the sun. It's as if his eyes are an eclipse and Steve could watch forever. He could waste time simply by looking into Bucky's eyes, because brown doesn't even begin to describe Bucky's eyes.
They're a sunset, a galaxy and Bucky is goddamn beautiful.
Steve realizes he's been staring and blushes before agreeing with Bucky, "It was, wasn't it? Wanna watch it again?"
Bucky's soft laughs entrances him and he lets out a goofy smile, his heart leaping at the mere sound of Bucky's laugh, it's addicting, he thinks.
"How about a Disney movie instead? Natasha bought a shitload of them for us," Bucky suggests instead and Steve brightens at the notion.
"Beauty and the Beast?" Bucky asks, already getting up from the bed to go and put it in the disc drive.
(Steve smiles, because it's Bucky's favorite. It's stupid, he thinks, to get excited over something that Bucky loves but he does. Because that's Bucky. It's a part of a Bucky and so it's a part of Steve.)
Steve nods and latches on to Bucky the second he crawls into bed and Bucky laughs again, running his metal fingers through Steve's blond hair lovingly.
"Why do you like this one so much?" Steve yawns as the previews start rolling.
Bucky stiffens next to him and his voice is tense when he replies,"I-It reminds me of you and me. I mean, I'm a beast Steve and sometimes I feel like you're the beauty that tames me."
The room is quiet expect for the sound of T.V which Steve turns down before turning to face Bucky. Bucky won't look him in his eye and flexes his metal arm, a nervous habit of his.
For a moment, Steve wants to scream and cry because he can see it in Bucky's eyes, he can see the pain, the hurt that HYDRA conflicted and how much it tears at him inside. He wants to yell and break things because, he can tell from the way Bucky's breathing is just a little too rapid, that he's holding in cries and he's probably thinking of HYDRA and losing Steve.
He can feel Bucky drifting and suddenly wants to grip his shirt, hold him tightly and tell him to come back, come back.
Instead, he takes a shaky breath, placing a gentle kiss on Bucky's forehead, his lips, his eyelids. He peppers Bucky's face with soft, kisses even those his lips are dry and tears are making Bucky taste like salt and sadness.
"You're not a beast Buck, you're not-" Steve's voice cracks and he wants to gather Bucky in his arms and never let go.
"You're not broken, you're not a monster. You're mine, my Buck. The one who dragged me out of fights I picked. You're the one who protects me on missions, and I'm yours. I protect you on missions because I'm with you until the end of the line and you save me. You save me from myself and drowning in memories and fears," Steve says, hating that his voice is quivering and tears are running down his face and he probably looks like shit and maybe he ruined their Sunday off.
(He really needs Bucky, so much that it scares him. Because Bucky keeps away the nightmare of losing the Howling Commandos, of losing every friend he's made because Steve knows that he'll outlive because of the fucking serum and that scares him so he needs Bucky. He needs Bucky to hold his hand and tell him it'll be okay.)
Bucky gently wipes the tears from Steve's face with his metal hand, Steve's shame and anger at himself quickly disappearing with the heat in his cheeks because of the familiar gesture.
"I won't leave you either," Bucky whispers against Steve's lips and a small smile spreads over Steve's lips as he kisses back.
The words are what he needs to hear and he deepens the kiss, because yeah, it's a Sunday afternoon. A lazy, perfect Sunday afternoon, but they don't know if this will be the last time they see each other so they'll make the best of it.
And soon the apartment is filled with soft moans and even softer 'i love you's. Hesitant touches and firm kisses, time flies until the sun has set and the moon is high in the sky, the stars scattered about like silver bits of fire.
The two lay in bed, wrapped around each other, holding on for dear life, scared of losing the other. It's true that one time they had been on opposite sides, one who had frozen dreams about a boy with blue eyes and a strange name on his tongue. The other one with nightmares about losing the one he meant to catch.
But now they're together, entwined in a lovers embrace, clinging on to this lazy Sunday afternoon's memories because it might be their last Sunday afternoon and they want to spend it in each other's arms.