"You're leaving?"

Tony Stark never wanted to be in this position, never wants to be in this place ever again.

Momentarily between hell and a location of limbo, all the while Steve proceeds to locking his lips over Tony's neck, mumbling something non complicatedly.

Tony repels, Tony pushes, Tony claws against an arm.

"What?" his voice comes out louder than intended.

Steve struggles and consists on resuming his advances, only to pressed away again.

"I said I'm leaving next week." he huffs. "Now can I please enjoy my last week?"

Wrong choice of words, before he could say take back his words Tony withdraws completely and the game is over even before it began.

"You ASSHOLE." Stark walks away screaming, pulling his discarded money signifying clothes with him. "You spend all your time with that damn Barnes of yours and then you come here, fucking 'Oh, sorry Tony, forgot to mention. I'm enlisting next month.'"

"Hey, don't bring Bucky into this." His voice is rising, almost as invading as Tony's.

"Why do you even want to go Rogers? We both know your body ain't cut out for it. Is it Barnes? He forcing you into this or he giving you head for joining? Is that it?"

Silence.

Tony Stark never wanted to be in this place ever again, because the next thing he remembers is a strange ringing in his ears before Rogers' knuckles knocks a new sort of pain into his system, his nose to be specific. And Tony is incapable of doing anything to standing back and covering his face with his hands in defence, blankly watching Steve's face as his actions catch up to him.

"Tony, I'm so so-"

"No. I'm out Rogers. I'm gone."

Tony Stark is out of there in seconds, hastily correcting the last of his shirt buttons.

That's it. He really fucked up this time.

A few hours pass, and Steve finds himself comfortable in an armchair facing a dark haired man of near 6 feet, almost as towering as Steve himself. Both were in possession of a cheap glass of rum at hand.

And it's nice, Steve finds. With Bucky there's no drama, much less than the likes of the Starks anyway although he doesn't ever hold it against them. Tony was worth it, he thinks to himself.

"Look, way I see it."

Oh yeah, he was in a conversation, or rather Bucky was the one doing the talking and Steve just taking some form of comfort in company.

"Shimson may be a fool in the field, but I'm starting to think he's right about one thing." Bucky takes a swig of the mild alcohol.

"War is helping the world, maybe not for the folks dying or even those involved, but the economy's getting better."

Steve figures it might be the polite thing to do, inputting something once in a while.

"Yeah? And you think money's all that matters?"

It might have come out much more accusing than he had intended because instantly he watched his friend's face scrunch up, in more anger than he'd seen.

"You're the one fucking Tony fucking Stark. You don't mean to tell me you're not with him for the money?"

And suddenly even Bucky's company had turned sour, he rushed to his feet, slamming the glass down onto the wooden table and hearing it shatter.

Before he can take leave, he hears a pleading voice, "Steve, I'm sorry. That was outta line. Please, look my family died because of the damn crash in Wallstreet."

Steve's eyes flickers back, slightly softer than they were seconds before. He returns to the warm armchair, maybe it was drowning hum of the drink he had been consuming or maybe he was feeling so desperately lonely tonight. Probably the latter.

Bucky clears his throat, lowers his gaze down to the small pool of rum he held in his palms.

"The family business took it quite hard, we ran this small shop off Brooklyn...there was me, my parents and my big brother, Benjamin." With another gulp, he persists. "I was only about eight or nine at the time, times got so desperate. Our little shop went bust within a couple of months, we were barely supporting ourselves before the crash anyway. We went to the streets for a while, never had anything to eat." Steve didn't know what to say, he didn't know if his words would help at all. So he just listens.

"We begged and stole, but y'know, everyone was tight on money and my mom passed away after a couple weeks. She caught some disease, and her system wasn't doing so well what with the lack of shelter and food. Ben too, he made it to his 12th birthday."

"Oh god, Bucky, I'm so sorry."

He looks back up, and he just looks devastatingly, numb.

"It's fine...Dad went and killed himself a while later, he couldn't take the death of his wife and his favourite son. I guess I can understand. I got found by this old couple after that, Julie and Charlie Edwin, best thing that ever happened to me."

Steve was even more at a loss of words, he'd only met Bucky Barnes a few months ago and he realises that he'd had an easy life compared to Bucky, he hadn't suffered at all.

"Bucky, I'm sor-"

"Shut up, will you? I'm alive, aren't I?"

What happened next was not what Steve had been expecting at all, there was a flash of movement and the next thing he felt was Bucky's lips on his.

There was a silent breath between them and the alcohol must have gotten to him, as ineffective as it was because he was allowing the tongue into his mouth and he was letting it all happen.

He was letting Bucky rub his body against him, because it was as if his body was in autopilot.

He was watching himself as Bucky was unbuttoning his shirt.

He was watching himself as Bucky was laying his lips all over his neck, his shoulder, his stomach.

He was watching himself as Bucky was fucking him.

And the last thing he remembers thinking in his drunken haze, Tony.