HUD: Shit's gonna happen, little bit, anyway. :)


Bucky had been right - he didn't catch a wink of sleep worrying about the man on the other side of the wall. He tossed and turned, Steve's hurt expression always armed and waiting for his viewing pleasure when he did close his eyes. It was a downright shame that Bucky couldn't assuage his best friend or his own foolishness. If only he had the balls to tell Steve how he really felt, how he didn't care if all their teammates wanted to do was mock him day in and day out, Bucky would always be by his side.

That was it, though, the honest truth.

Bucky would be there, 'til the end of their line, but as a friend. Bucky cared too much about Steve to lose him over his own awkward feelings, even if he might sometimes possibly humour himself with wild thoughts like Steve returning his feelings and them running off into a sunset or whatever. That's what people did nowadays, right? Make out under stars and have picnics; that sounded right.

Christ, he was such a fucking sap.

A sap and a coward, because Bucky wouldn't lose Steve for anything, but he wasn't going to tell him that, exactly, or why. It was heavily implied, and Natasha had even ventured to ask him. Maybe she could help him with this, too.

Maybe.

Bucky gave up on sleep around five in the morning. He waited until he heard Steve leave for his run before creeping out, not ready to face his hurting friend just yet. Once the coffee maker was running, Bucky figured a shower wouldn't hurt while he waited for the inevitable cold shoulder he'd get when Steve came in.

Bucky fixed his coffee with too much sugar and settled in with the paper at the kitchen bar. He flipped through the classifieds, looking for something antique (it really hurt to admit) from the forties he could give Steve as an unspoken apology; maybe make Stark buy it, too, for good measure.

He was fully immersed in the goings on of the sports columns when Steve came in. Bucky made himself relax, not looking up from the print, even when he felt Steve only a few feet away.

"Coffee's ready, pal," Bucky offered, taking a sip of his for emphasis.

Steve hummed and toed his sneakers off. He walked back to the door and left them there before coming in.

"Goin' for a shower," he said as way of answer, to which Bucky just nodded.

When the door shut behind him, Bucky sighed. Of course he couldn't get off the hook so easy. Steve didn't take too long in the shower usually, so Bucky figured he had enough time to get started on breakfast for the two of them. Whoever put the paper outside of their door and stocked their fridge before they came back from a mission was a godsend, Bucky decided as he pulled out a carton of eggs and a package of bacon. He started the bacon first while he whisked a few eggs; Steve always likes his omelettes, and it wasn't something he cooked often.

Bucky greased up a pan after the bacon was finished, nice and crispy, before pouring the first mixture into the pan and popping a set of bread into the toaster. He'd make Steve's first, something he realized he always did unconsciously. Probably something of a habit left over from before.

As he flipped and then plated the first bacon and cheese omelette, the bathroom door opened. Bucky poured the rest of the eggs into the pan and turned to butter the toast that popped up.

"Made a bacon and cheese omelette for ya, Stevie, if you wanna come get it," Bucky called, his back to the shuffling noises Steve made as he walked over carpet. Bucky listened for a reply, and when he didn't get one, expected the door to Steve's room to close. Instead, the sounds of bare feet on tile made Bucky turn and drop the knife he was using to butter Steve's toast.

Steve stood in the kitchen fucking naked. His towel was casually strewn across his shoulders, one side working over his hair as Steve dried it and walked. Bucky couldn't breathe; he knew he was being so obvious, raking his eyes from his best friend's toes to his ridiculous cock, which even flaccid, looked like a model for a dildo. He had to blink and advert his gaze somewhere else, please, because he could feel himself getting half-hard just from the sight. The dip in Steve's narrow hips was equally distracting, but didn't hold Bucky's attention for long when there was still so much to look at. Broad shoulders taunt with muscle, bunching and pulling as Steve angled his head forward to dry the hair on his neck. His pecs were still glistening from the water of his shower and a stray drop slid from his clavicle to tease between his defined (so defined) abdominal muscles. Bucky felt his heart stutter and his breath catch.

Just. Remember. To. Breathe.

Steve was looking at him, now, his hair towel dried and sticking up wildly like one of Bucky's fantasies where he dedicated a lot of time to kissing Steve crazy and messing up his perfect hair. There was a glint in his eyes that made Bucky swallow thickly.

"That for me?" Steve asked, his voice totally normal, like him walking around the flat driving Bucky insane was normal. It was, except Steve wasn't ever naked and Bucky was usually much, much better at hiding it.

"What?" Bucky croaked and immediately cleared his throat. There was a ghost of a smirk on Steve's lips that was making Bucky go weak in the knees.

"That omelette," Steve continued. He took a step forward, presumably to grab the plate. Bucky, being the totally chill guy he usually was, stumbled back against the counter and hissed when the edge slammed against his spine. Steve's brows furrowed in concern.

"Buck, you okay?" He asked and took another step forward, but Bucky had nowhere else to scramble away to. Steve stood maybe three feet away and paused, looking down. He dropped to a knee and Bucky felt like he might literally come in his sweats when Steve looked up at him. "You dropped this."

Steve held up the dirty butter knife; Bucky, still somewhere in the middle of shock and awe and busy committing this fantastic scene to memory, slowly took the proffered utensil and offered a crooked smile in return.

"Thanks, Stevie," he muttered. Steve smiled back, his usually bright smile lighting up his face. Oh, Bucky had always known he was too far gone on his best friend, but there was something about that expression that always made the reality slide home a little more each time. "I'm good."

"Good," Steve answered. He rose to his feet, making Bucky tilt his head back a bit to keep eye contact. Steve stood so close that Bucky could feel his body heat. "That omelette sure smells good."

"Great," Bucky grinned. Be cool, man. "It's all for you."

Steve's gaze flicked from the plate behind Bucky to his eyes, that same smirk from before on his pink lips. "Looks like you have somethin' else for me, too."

Fuck, he knows. Bucky felt his stomach drop and his heart seize. He'd hoped his sweats were baggy enough to hide his obvious arousal, but maybe he wasn't as safe as he'd thought. Oh he was screwed, so screwed. Steve was gonna push him away, maybe kick his ass too, and Bucky would totally let him. Then he'd lose him forever. Fuck,

"Uh." Was all Bucky managed before Steve plucked the now soggy toast from between his flesh fingers, damp from the melting butter he'd totally forgotten about when he saw Steve naked. Hell, there's a good chance he would have forgotten his own name had Steve not been using it.

Steve took a bite of the toast and winked at Bucky. "Tastes good, Buck. Just the way I like it." Then, he winked. Steven Grant Rogers winked at him. Actually winked, like, flirtatiously.

Christ.

What day was today? Who was the President? Was he stuck in some weirdly erotic dream?

Did it even fucking matter?

The smell of burning eggs pulled Bucky back to the present, to Steve sitting next to where Bucky's coffee still sat and idly looking over at the still open paper. His towel was still across his naked shoulders, and Bucky was achingly hard.

"There's a new art exhibit coming up on Monday," Steve said around a mouthful of egg and bacon. He grabbed Bucky's coffee and took a sip. "Wanna go?"

"Sure," Bucky breathed, grabbing the counter to keep from sliding down it.

Steve looked at the stove where smoke was slowly rising. "I think you're burnin' something, Buck."

"Sure," Bucky agreed. He just reached over and turned off the burner, tossing the knife he clutched in his metal hand into the trash. Bucky knew without looking that it was ruined by the strength in his grip.

That smirk was back again, Steve's eyes shining as he watched Bucky drift from the kitchen to the hall. "Goin' for a shower, Buck?"

"Sure," Bucky answered, keeping his eyes forward as he pulled his shirt off over his head and vaguely tossed it in the direction of his open door.

"I hope there's still some water left," Steve's voice called. "I really took my time in there earlier."

"Sure," Bucky whimpered, shutting the door behind him and letting out a shaky breath. He hesitated only a moment before locking it, briefly entertaining the idea that Steve might follow him.

Bucky shook his head and stared at his reflection, ashamed by how obviously aroused he looked and the knowledge that Steve saw the same expression, too. He swallowed thickly.

Bucky was painfully hard and had to be dreaming. But he wasn't. He wasn't that lucky, no - instead, he was going to take a second shower and jerk himself off to the image of his best friend kneeling in front of him entirely naked and not be ashamed. Try not to be ashamed.

Bucky bit into a washcloth as he came, wondering if Steve knew what he was doing.


Of course Steve knew what he was doing; Bucky wanted to scream.

He hadn't seen Steve again after his shower, but the kitchen was cleaned and it seemed like Bucky by alone, which was fine. Maybe Natasha would be up to sparing, and Bucky could really use the distraction.

Bucky texted her and waited by the entrance to the training room. It sounded like there was someone already in there, and when Bucky peeked around the glass he saw Steve making short work of the punching bag. The image made Bucky swallow sharply - the image of Steve totally nude was still erotically fresh in his mind, and seeing Steve working out without a shirt on was making Bucky question all of his morals. Steve always wore a shirt when he worked out, be it running or sparing or just punching a sack of sand.

A hand on Bucky's shoulder made him jump.

"Easy, soldier," Natasha said, amusement clear in her voice. Bucky breathed out a sigh, knowing she'd caught in ogling Steve. "Got something on your mind?"

"You could say that," he murmured, unconsciously looking back at his best friend.

Natasha's expression softened. "He okay?"

Bucky shrugged. "Maybe? He wasn't last night, and I put my foot in my mouth pretty spectacularly, but this morning he was - " Fueling every single one of my fantasies for the next year. "- different."

He watched Natasha shift her weight to her other foot. "What happened?"

"Just," Bucky began, looking around for a moment. Steve was on the other side of a wall, so he doubted his super hearing would kick in, but Bucky didn't want anyone to hear him. "Just...he's more upset about the prude thing than anything, I think, 'cause he asked me what I thought last night."

"Uh?" Natasha offered kindly, mimicking Bucky's amazing fail in front of all of them the night before.

"Yeah," he groaned and rolled his eyes. "Then he went to bed, an' I couldn't sleep a wink thinkin' about how upset he was. I - "

"You love him," Natasha interrupted, making Bucky spin to look at her with murder in his eyes. If Stevie heard -

"He didn't," Natasha answered flippantly; had he said that aloud?

"Yeah, Barnes," she continued. "You did. I'm more interested in why you're avoiding him."

Bucky felt heat steal up his neck. Natasha was the only other person he got on well with, well enough to consider her a close friend, other than Sam and Steve. The rest were his teammates, but he knew he was more of an outsider than friend at best to a few of the others, and he couldn't blame them. Natasha accepted him with very little resentment, and it was nice to have her views on things.

Sometimes, thought, he absolutely hated how right she was.

"He, uh, must be wanting to prove himself," Bucky murmured, looking cautiously back at Steve through the glass. "He walked around earlier completely...well, totally naked and I couldn't keep my eyes offa him. Even had to take another shower to calm down."

Natasha snorted, covering her mouth elegantly with her hands. Bucky frowned. "You better not laugh at me."

"I won't, I'm not," she said, her smiled stretching. "Sounds like he's more concerned with you thinking he's a prude more than anyone else. Maybe you should talk to him."

"And say what?" Bucky hissed. "'Hey Stevie, I don't think you're a prude. In fact, I'd really like to get a mouthful of that cock. Would you mind face fucking me, too, Stevie?'"

"Bucky?" Bucky's stomach dropped, his eyes widening. Natasha bit her bottom lip to stop from smiling so wide.

"Did he hear me?" Bucky whispered, looking through the glass and offering a wave. Steve smiled back and started over.

"I doubt he heard more than his name," she answered quietly. "Best be a good boy, Barnes."

"Bucky," Steve said with a smile, trotting up from around the partition they'd been standing behind. The lights of the training room shined off of the sweat on his chest, and Bucky really did have to be a good boy. Steve looked down slightly. "Hey, Natasha."

"Hey there, Steve," she answered, folding her arms across her stomach. "Feeling better?"

Steve scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, his smile matching the bashful gesture. "Yeah, I am. Sorry you had to see that; I kinda overreacted. Must be left over from before everything, ya know?"

"Yeah," Natasha offered, patting his arm. "I bet Barnes here would be happy to help you blow off some steam." Bucky snapped his eyes to her, willing her to keep her mouth shut. Instead, she just smiled at him. "He's looking for a sparing partner; I've got to report to Fury or I'd stay."

Oh, Natasha was going to regret this.

"Yeah?" Steve asked, perking up considerably. "I'm up for it if you are, Buck."

Bucky, being the nice and masochistic guy he was, offered up his own smile. "'Course, Stevie."

"Awesome!" His eagerness made Bucky's heart hurt. "I'll pull out a few extra mats."

When Steve walked away, Bucky glared at Natasha. "You're gonna regret this."

"I doubt that," she answered with a smirk. "Might end up owing me a favour. Play nice, soldier."

"Regret!" Bucky hissed. "Heavy and deep-seeded; I'll make sure of it."

Natasha just flipped him the middle finger as she walked. Bucky cursed her under his breath and he walked onto the mats to begin his stretches. Steve sat a few feet from him and mirrored his movements until they were both ready.

"Boxing?" Bucky offered, pulling a glove over his metal hand.

"How 'bout mixed?" Steve offered, and Bucky shrugged. Makes sense, after he spent so much time punching a sack.

Bucky realized too late that it was him that would suffer from instant regret. Steve absolutely knew what he was doing, knew what he did earlier that morning and knew what he was doing to Bucky now, too. Not only was he shirtless, which seriously distracted Bucky when they grappled, but he wasn't wearing anything beneath his track shorts. Nothing, not even a jock strap.

The first flash Bucky got distracted him from blocking the kick accompanying it. Steve offered to help him up, but Bucky shook his head and pushed himself up to mentally psych himself up for more. The next one he was better prepared for, catching Steve's ankle in his hand to stop his shorts from sliding any further up his thighs. It was a tragic play; Steve used the leverage of Bucky's hand holding his ankle to spin him around as if Steve were readying himself for another kick. Just as Bucky let go to block, Steve dropped to the mats and wrapped his legs around Bucky's neck in an almost perfect mimic of one of Natasha's signature moves, his ankles locked and his knees squeezing Bucky's shoulders. Bucky swallowed; in order to keep his eyes on Steve's face, that meant looking down, and looking down meant he caught another eyeful of Steve.

And was far too distracted to brace himself before he was slammed to the ground.

Bucky groaned, his right arm trapped awkwardly beneath him, Steve's thighs still around his neck. He frowned and tried to roll away; Steve let him go.

"You okay, Bucky?" Steve asked, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Bucky nodded into the mat.

"Yup!" He answered, rotating his jaw. "I'mma head up, tho'. More tired than I thought if you're kicking my ass so easy."

"Did you have a bad night?" Bucky looked at his friend, who looked so genuinely concerned that Bucky felt guilty as hell,

"Little bit," Bucky said. He sat up and rubbed his neck. "Lot on my mind."

Steve nodded, his long legs resting between them. "I understand," he began. Then, softer: "You could always bother me with it, ya know?"

Bucky smiled when his heart slowed. "I know, pal. Don't think you wanna know exactly how fucked up I am; you might night wanna stick around."

"I always will, Buck," Steve said vehemently. "Don't doubt that."

Bucky sighed and pushed himself up from the mat, offering a hand to Steve as he went. "I'd rather not talk here, if that's alright?"

Steve nodded and took Bucky's hand. "Wanna head up?"

"Yeah," Bucky said, regretfully dropping Steve's hand. "I'll wait while you get your stuff."

Steve nodded again and jogged over to where his gym bag lay, Bucky watching him as he went with a sigh. Maybe it was finally time to have that conversation, especially if Steve walking around naked was going to become a habit. If he made him uncomfortable, then Bucky could just move out. It would suck, but Stark had been bugging him to run a few more tests on his arm near the six month mark anyway.

If it came down to it, Bucky would make sure Natasha wouldn't have a moment's peace with him around.


A/N: One chapter left! :)