Outside the dark windows, crickets sang. Steve's eyes had snapped open at the first creak of the floorboards.
Bucky was sleepwalking again.
Steve had first noticed the habit shortly after they had both moved out of the Avengers Tower and into an apartment in a converted warehouse. High ceilings, big windows, old floors. Doors that didn't bolt themselves shut like they did at the Tower.
The first time, Steve had crept out of his room with his shield in hand, reading to whip it at the intruder, who was surely a Hydra assassin. Instead he'd found Bucky, sitting in front of a dark television. "Bucky?" Steve had said quietly. "Bucky, you scared me..."
The sound of a snore ripped out of Bucky's throat.
Steve had heard somewhere that you shouldn't wake a sleepwalker, so he sat beside Bucky for twenty minutes, until Bucky stood up again, and then Steve gently guided him back to bed.
It hadn't happened the next night, or the next, and Steve had almost forgotten about it when he woke up to find Bucky standing beside his bed. "Goddamn it, Bucky!" Steve said. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"
Not really, but it didn't matter. Because Bucky's eyes were closed.
"All right, time to go back to bed."
Another time, he'd found Bucky standing in front of the coffee maker, pouring scoop after scoop of grinds into the filter. Once he woke to find Bucky asleep on the floor beside Steve's bed. Twice Bucky had been simply standing in front of the center window in the living room.
"All right, back to bed," Steve said each time.
Now Steve was alert to Bucky's wanderings, and he usually caught the creaks of Bucky's bare feet padding across the old floorboards before Bucky had reached his destination, and he could guide Bucky back to bed quickly and efficiently.
This creak was closer than the hallway, however, and Steve didn't even have to turn his head to find Bucky. He stood on the other side of Steve's bed. Steve's bed gave a slight squeal as Bucky sat down on the edge of the mattress.
"Bucky?" Steve whispered.
He was answered by a long snore.
Steve rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Bucky, time to go back to bed," he said, thinking that might trigger some kind of conditioned response.
Bucky swung his feet up on the bed and lay down.
The bed was a full-size, not a twin (which Steve had considered buying for himself), but it most certainly was not a queen or a king size – Steve had thought those seemed too extravagant. Still, on a full, Bucky's body didn't leave much room for Steve.
Not supposed to wake up a sleepwalker, Steve told himself.
Bucky's head took up half the pillow. With a sigh, Steve lay down again. He and Bucky had slept in closer quarters as kids. This was fine. Besides, after losing Bucky so many times, he liked having his best friend close by. Even if the metal arm was cold to the touch.
The blankets were harder to negotiate. In the hot summer night, this wasn't a huge issue; Steve was too warm with the blankets on anyway, and he'd never been one for air conditioning. He'd spent twenty-five summers using nothing but a single fan to cool down. He climbed on top of the sheets alongside Bucky and closed his eyes and tried to sleep with the sound of snores sawing beside him.
Bucky rolled over to face him.
"Buck?" Steve whispered, eyes still closed.
The crickets chirped and a car drove past on the street below.
Bucky's hand slid onto Steve's stomach.
Steve's eyes snapped open.
It wouldn't have been such a shock if Steve had been wearing a shirt. Too hot to wear a shirt to bed, so he had Bucky's cool fingers right on his skin. "Bucky?" he said, a little louder than a whisper.
More snoring.
Kind of cute, the way Bucky was snoring now. Deep in his throat, so that the sound was muffled a little. Cute little snores.
Steve turned his head away and shut his eyes. He was too tired for this.
Bucky's hand moved. Down. Steve felt those fingers brushing up against the waistband of his boxers.
"Bucky, come on."
Steve didn't want to move, to wake him up. That would be bad. Bucky still sometimes had episodes, where the Red Room brainwashing overcame his fragile recovery. That metal arm was dangerous. It wasn't the arm that was making its way down Steve's pants, however.
Inch by inch that hand slid down, while Steve lay there, helpless to stop it. He could stop it, obviously, grab Bucky's wrist and halt its progress. He just didn't feel like fighting a disoriented Bucky in the middle of the night in only his boxer shorts. With a raging hard-on.
He had no idea was Bucky was thinking. Dreaming. He was dreaming then, if he was asleep. Did Bucky dream about Steve? Dream about... doing this to Steve? Everything since they'd recovered Bucky had been so cautious and strange, and even though Steve had felt like Bucky was more secure at the Avengers Tower, he and Bucky had both agreed that living just the two of them would be nicer. Get them back to how things used to be, when it was just the two of them against the world.
Steve had barely admitted it to himself, but sometimes he woke up with his shorts sticky and wet and a lingering thought of Bucky.
Bucky's fingers touched the tip of Steve's hard-as-fuck cock and Steve could barely keep himself from moaning loudly. Instead he made a stifled kind of sound in his throat. Nothing like the cute sleepy snores coming from Bucky. Steve clenched his fists at his sides and curled his toes and tried not to move.
Can't wake Bucky. Can't wake Bucky.
Suddenly those fingers wrapped around and gripped him, and a little grunt escaped. "Uh, Bucky," he said, but his voice came out low and pleading, and those fingers didn't let up, not even a little bit. What had he been about to say to Bucky? Couldn't have been stop. Nope. Not after Bucky started pumping his hot fist along the shaft of Steve's dick.
"Fuhhhh... Bucky... ahhh, god."
He had to grab the sheets to anchor himself. He wanted to explode out of his body. His cock pulsed against Bucky's palm. And still Bucky snored on.
Clenching his teeth, he tried not to say anything more. Hisses escaped through his lips. He wanted to throw his arms around Bucky, to plant a kiss against those gently snoring lips. Distant fragments of old wet dreams returned to him. His tongue darted out and licked his lips before he had to return to clenching and gripping the sheets.
Can't... wake... Bucky...
Bucky's fist pumped faster, and soon Steve's chest heaved, all his muscles tight and wanting release, but if he let himself go he was going to scream – he was going to scream –
When he spilled over Bucky's fist, Steve's vocalization came out more as a strangled yelp that died in the still night air. But at least he hadn't flung out an arm, hit Bucky, awakened him.
Bucky's face pressed against his sweaty shoulder. Steve could feel Bucky's lips, hyper-sensitive as he was right then, smiling. The snoring had stopped.
"Bucky? You awake?" Steve asked. "I can't believe you just..."
His hand remained inside Steve's boxers, fingers uncurled.
"Bucky?" Steve whispered.
A long, almost comically loud snore ripped open the silence of the room.
Steve sighed.