"Mornin', sleeping beauty." Bucky's priggish expression met a tousled Steve as he stepped around the corner of the doorway, his hair askew and eyes heavy. Bucky recognised that all was not well when he glanced to his left at the clock; 9:47am, when Steve woke usually at 6am sharp. Always had.
Old habits die hard.
Turning back to the Captain, Bucky's eyes darted across his physique- flawless, but that was as far from the point as is reachable- his shoulders glistened with sudor, a too-fitting shirt clinging to his abdomen for dear life against the moisture. His chest expanded in irregular intervals, sharp and heavy, and just as he opened his mouth to utter a perturbed "Steve, what's-" the Avenger had him backed against the wall next to the fridge. It whirred softly against their ears.
But Steve's firm hands found his hips, and Bucky wasn't quite sure what he was expecting but he was certain that a definite kiss was close to the bottom of a short list of possibilities.
When Steve pulled back, he cupped the soldier's face and their foreheads met.
"...What, uh-"
"I'm just glad you're alive, Buck. You're all I ever had."
Bucky didn't ask anything more.
"Lights will guide you home,
And ignite your bones,
And I will try
To fix you."