They're standing there, maybe a foot apart, and god, Steve wants to kiss him. To lean in and close the already small gap between their bodies, to let Bucky (and maybe Steve himself) know that things would be alright.
But as he's studying Bucky's mouth in that should-I-shouldn't-I way lovers often do, he notices Bucky's tense jaw, his quivering lip. It's not an I-want-you sort of face, it's Bucky Barnes scared out of his goddamn mind.
And Steve has to remind himself that this isn't the same Bucky anymore. He's not the boy who kissed Steve's battered, bloodied mouth in a Brooklyn alley when they were nineteen. He's not the boy raring to enlist so he'll finally get the chance to personally kick a Nazi's ass. He's not the boy who fell screaming from a freight car, fingertips inches from Steve's. That Bucky died back in '45. This is the one forged in war and iron and HYDRA's icebox, the man who didn't ask for this, for any of this, but is being held accountable anyways. He is different, he is afraid, this was not his fault, and yet he chose to come back here, to his literal torture chamber, to the place where HYDRA tried to kill the innocence in Bucky and replace him with a monster. And he's going back.
So now is not the time to kiss him. Not on the elevator to Bucky's personal circle of hell. Steve simply stares, trying to mutely convey as much reassurance and love as he can in a look.
The elevator dings, and the doors open.
It is weeks before they actually do kiss. It's probably going to be Steve's last chance for a while, so he figures he'd best make the most of it.
They're standing awkwardly outside the cryo room, where T'Challa and a technician discuss the specifics of the freezing. Neither of them really want to go in there just yet, so they pretend to wait for the king to finish his conversation.
"You know, you don't have to-" Steve begins.
Bucky smiles. "No, I do. It's safer this way. For everyone, myself included."
"But you'll be okay?" Steve knows he must sound like a mother hen , but he's genuinely concerned. "I mean, you don't mind going back under?"
"Stevie, you know how it feels. Or... Doesn't feel."
"Cold," Steve reminiscences. "Really cold."
"But other than that, you can't feel much, right?"
"Right."
"So I'll be fine."
"I know, I know. It's just..." Steve lets himself trail off; he wasn't really sure where he was going with that.
"Just...?" Bucky mimics Steve's anxious tone perfectly. Steve had almost forgotten how annoying Buck could be. He's kind of missed it, even if he'd never admit it.
He realizes this is another elevator moment, but the roles reversed. Bucky's ready to go back, but Steve isn't quite.
And before his brain can produce a longer list of comparisons to the events in Siberia and other reasons this is definitely a bad idea, Steve leans forward and kisses him, cupping Bucky's unshaven jaw in his hand, kissing him with such force Bucky actually takes a step backwards. And for a moment Steve's afraid he's misjudged the situation, that this is exactly the wrong time for this, but then Bucky leans in as well, wrapping his arm around Steve so there is no space between them. Bucky draws in a deep breath and Steve can feel his chest swell with it, and he can feel the warmth of Bucky's lips and that little bubble of heat you get when you're practically intertwined with someone. It feels like the first time he's been properly warm since before he got iced, since before Bucky fell, since before it all went to hell. It is a long time before they break apart, and they only do so reluctantly.
"Remind me why we don't do that more often," Bucky says, smiling.
"Because you're about to go back into cryo and I haven't seen you in seventy years."
Bucky rolls his eyes, punching Steve's shoulder. "Oh, lighten up. We just made out, you'd think that'd put you in a better mood."
"Well, I'm gonna have to wait till god-knows-when to do that again, so."
Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Now you're just flirting."
Steve laughs, something he hasn't let himself do in a while, and together, they enter the cryo room.
