Steve pulls himself out of bed around nine in the morning.
Bucky's still in his bed, eyes shut and asleep, but looking utterly exhausted. Steve himself didn't sleep at all, but he's used to running on nothing.
He stands up on shaky legs, and makes his way out of his room after grabbing his glasses, making sure to be quiet. He shuts the door behind him, and hopes Bucky would get some more rest than he did.
Once he reaches his living room, he slips back on the tubes for his oxygen tank, and then wheels it over to his kitchen.
He needs three things.
Tea, eggs, waffles.
He deals with the waffles first, an old recipe of his mother's that he has memorized. While they're cooking in the waffle maker, he then puts the kettle on, and then begins the eggs.
Bucky walks into the room a few minutes later, with bleary eyes and messy hair.
"Morning," he says, pausing in front of the kitchen island.
"Hey," Steve says, looking over at him. "Did you get any sleep?"
Bucky shrugs.
"A few hours. Did you?"
Steve shakes his head.
"Not at all."
Bucky quirks up an eyebrow.
"That can't be healthy."
"I'm good at pulling all nighters, I'll be fine. I'll take a nap later if I need to."
Bucky nods.
"How are you feeling? Like, still sick?"
Steve shrugs.
"I kinda have a headache, and breathing's a little bit rough – I'll probably have to take a breathing treatment later – and I'm kinda achy. But nothing's really wrong. Don't worry."
Bucky nods again, leaning on the island, before a pensive look crosses his features.
"Steve, we need to talk. About last night."
"We do," Steve says, and then he turns back to the eggs. "We'll talk when the foods done. How do you like your eggs?"
"Fried."
"What kind of tea do you want?"
"Chamomile."
"Alrighty. Should be done in a bit."
Steve doesn't look up from his stove, but he can hear Bucky shifting around the room, before moving the furniture back into place.
"We'll have to dance again sometime," Steve says, before flipping over the eggs, "That was fun."
"It was," Bucky says, and Steve can practically hear the smile in his voice.
Eventually, Steve heads over to the coffee table, setting down two plates of food, while Bucky grabs the tea from the kitchen counter.
They settle on Steve's sofa, Steve sitting crosslegged, resting his back on the armrest of the sofa, facing Bucky.
"So," Steve begins, holding his mug tightly. "You probably have questions."
"So do you," Bucky says.
Steve decides to be blunt.
"I don't really want to talk about what happened with me. It's a long story. It still kinda sticks with me, y'know, and I can't really think about it without getting anxious as fuck. I... I wasn't really in control then, hurting people wasn't a choice that I consciously made. It's a hard thing for me to talk about, and I haven't really told the full story to anyone. It's something I hate to think about."
He takes a sip of his tea, and watches Bucky carefully.
"But if you want to know, I'll tell you."
And he leaves the decision in his hands.
Bucky frowns down at his eggs and waffles, deep in thought.
"I'm not going to lie," he says, slowly, "I do want to know. But you don't have to tell me. I completely understand about not wanting to think about it, that's how it feels with me. And if you ever want to tell me, I'd like it to be because you want to tell me, not just because I want to hear."
Steve smiles tiredly.
"Thank you," he says, admittedly happy that Bucky let him out of an explanation.
He has no doubt he's going to tell Bucky someday.
But hopefully not for a while.
With Stark taking The Sketchbook, and meeting Peggy and Bruce again, it's all been heavy on his mind lately. He hasn't slept right in days, and he's feeling a little to close to it all again to tell the story clearly.
He's going to tell Bucky someday.
But not for a long time, hopefully.
Bucky lets out a frustrated sigh, and turns to him.
"I should explain, though," he says, and before Steve can say anything he launches into an explanation. "It's not just breaking into apartments. I do that, and I do break into other places, not just apartments, and I steal stuff and I get information. And, a few years ago, I used to do hits too. I killed people. I never did anyone who's innocent, and most of my kills prevented worse things from happening. I'm always selective about my jobs, and I do my research and never once hurt someone who's innocent, but still."
Steve nods.
And it's the slightest bit surprising that Bucky is a killer, because he certainly doesn't seem like it.
Steve figures that he doesn't seem like one either.
But either way, he's going to act calm about this.
"Do you regret it?" he asks, again deciding to be blunt.
Bucky glances back down to his food.
"Most of them, yes. Some, no. Those were the people who could have really ruined things. I don't regret those. If they were alive, a lot more worse things could have happened."
"Alright," Steve says, "And are you currently still... um... offering that particular service?"
Bucky shakes his head.
"No. I haven't killed anyone in almost two years. I am not going to again."
"Okay," Steve says.
Bucky pauses for a moment, setting down his food on the coffee table in front of him, before turning back to Steve.
"You're... you're being really calm about all of this," he says carefully, sounding the slightest bit confused.
Steve shrugs.
"I've known people who've done terrible things. My old best fri-" he stops that immediately, and clears his throat and moves on. "Nevermind that. Just, I've known people who've done bad things. And I, myself, have done some bad things. You said you regret murdering people, and that you're not planning on doing it again, and I trust you."
"Really?"
Steve allows himself to smile, and rolls his eyes.
"Bucky, are you planning on murdering me at any point?" he asks, making sure it's obvious that he's teasing.
"Nope," Bucky answers lightly.
"Good," Steve says, and they more or less decide to end that particular conversation with that.
Steve isn't going to pry any further, and neither is Bucky.
They continue eating, making small talk over their waffles and eggs, lingering over their tea far longer than necessary.
"So, what are you planning on doing today?" Steve asks. "I'm not kicking you out or anything, you can hang out here if you want."
Bucky shrugs.
"I'm expecting a phone call later – work related – but other than that, I didn't really have any plans today."
"So you wanna stay for a while?" Steve asks, "Watch some more Downton Abbey?"
And that's what they do, crash on Steve's sofa and do nothing but watch TV for a couple hours.
They both ignore the conversation from last night, and Steve dozes off on Bucky's shoulder several times.
Bucky doesn't mind.
Bucky wakes up later that he usually sleeps, and finds himself in a bed that isn't his own.
In a few minutes it all hits him.
Dancing.
Kissing.
"I have too."
Bucky jerks up into a sitting position, and finds he's alone in Steve's bed.
There's the smell of food dancing through the air, and so Bucky heads to the kitchen.
He's still in his jeans, and he grabs his shirt from where it was tossed last night, slipping it on as he leaves the bedroom.
Steve's busy in his kitchen. The kettle's on the stove and he's hovering over a pan, while the waffle maker next to him makes occasional sizzling noises.
"Morning," Bucky says, pausing in front of the kitchen island.
Steve glances up from the food, and smiles.
"Hey. Did you get any sleep?"
Bucky shrugs. He did get some rest, but none of it was very good.
"A few hours. Did you?"
Steve shakes his head lightly, messy blonde hair shaking slightly.
"Not at all," he says easily.
Bucky raises an eyebrow. Especially considering Steve's sicker – than usual – that's probably not a good thing.
"That can't be healthy."
"I'm good at pulling all nighters, I'll be fine. I'll Take a nap later if I need to."
"How are you feeling? Like, still sick?" Bucky asks.
"I kinda have a headache, and breathing's a little bit rough – I'll probably have to take a breathing treatment later – and I'm kinda achy. But nothing's really wrong. Don't worry."
Bucky nods, even though he's planning on worrying anyway. Honestly, he can't remember when he didn't worry about Steve after meeting him. It seems he's always sick in one way or another, or getting into fights or such.
The events of last night rush back to him.
That weight in Steve's voice, the complete tiredness in his eyes, the three words that brought he night crashing down around them.
"Steve," Bucky says carefully, "We need to talk. About last night."
Steve frowns just a little, but nods. "We do."
And then he turns back to the stove, away from Bucky.
"We'll talk when the food's done," he says tightly, leaving no room for protest, "How do you like your eggs?"
He's putting off the inevitable, but Bucky lets him.
"Fried."
"What kind of tea do you want?"
"Chamomile."
"Alrighty, should be done in a bit."
He doesn't speak anymore, so Bucky turns from the kitchen, to face the living room. Everything's just how they left it last night, furniture pushed against the walls.
Bucky shifts the nightstand into place first, and then the sofa.
"We'll have to dance again sometime. That was fun," Steve says, not turning from his eggs.
Bucky grins.
He knew Steve would love it.
"It was," he agrees.
By the time Steve has the food finished and plated, Bucky has the furniture in the right spots.
Steve brings the food over, Bucky brings the tea over, and Steve winds up kicking off the conversation none of them really want to have.
"So," Steve says, fingers tightening around his mug in the way he does when he's particularly nervous, "You probably have questions."
And, oh god, Bucky does.
In fact, he can think of a dozen in a split second, but since he himself doesn't want to be bombarded with questions, he figures it's the same for Steve.
"So do you," Bucky replies, not even turning it into a question, because he already knows.
He's curious about Steve's past.
And Steve's curious about his.
"I don't really want to talk about what happened with me. It still kinda sticks with me, y'know, and I can't really think about it without getting anxious as fuck. I... I wasn't really in control then, hurting people wasn't a choice that I consciously made. It's a hard thing for me to talk about, and I haven't really told the full story to anyone. It's something I hate to think about."
Just by the way Steve's shoulders are turned in, his knuckles going white around his mug, glancing slightly to Bucky's right instead of looking at him straight on, Bucky can tell he's on edge.
Steve takes a careful sip of his tea, and glances back to Bucky, watching through wide blue eyes.
"But if you want to know, I'll tell you."
Bucky simply stares at Steve for a moment.
On one hand, he wants to say yes, he wants to hear everything and know Steve better for it. He wants to know.
But then, he isn't going to give his boyfriend a panic attack over some simple curiosity.
He frowns down at his food, and speaks slowly.
"I'm not going to lie, I do want to know. But you don't have to tell me. I completely understand about not wanting to think about it, that's how it feels with me. And if you ever want to tell me, I'd like it to be because you want to tell me, not just because I want to hear."
When he looks back up again, Steve's smiling.
And the smile is fairly faint, but there's easiness in his eyes, and his shoulders are slumped and his knuckles aren't white anymore.
He's relieved.
"Thank you," he breathes out, and Bucky has no doubt he made the right choice.
And maybe that could have been the end of it, but Bucky knows Steve has to be just as curious as he is.
Steve explained that he wasn't in control.
But Bucky was.
Steve deserves to know that.
He lets out a sigh, and turns to him.
"I should explain, though," he says, voice suddenly dry.
And maybe this will scare Steve off and maybe it'll ruin everything, but he deserves to know.
"It's not just breaking into apartments. I do that, and I do break into other places, not just apartments, and I steal stuff and I get information. And, a few years ago, I used to do hits too. I killed people. I never did anyone who's innocent, and most of my kills prevented worse things from happening. I'm always selective about my jobs, and I do my research and never once hurt someone who's innocent, but still."
Steve nods, after a moment, face unreadable for the moment.
Bucky gets a little bit anxious, but he doesn't allow it to show.
"Do you regret it?" Steve asks, cutting right to the chase.
Generally Bucky appreciates not beating around bushes, but he's been unsure of a lot of things lately.
He glances back down at his food, because half cold waffles are easier to look at than Steve at the moment.
There are some hits that he'd do a thousand times over again.
But there were some he'd trade his life to take back.
And his hands are shaking slightly, so he forces himself not to think of people who used to have lives ahead of them that are now six feet under.
"Most of them, yes. Some, no. Those were the people who could have really ruined things. I don't regret those. If they were alive, a lot more worse things could have happened."
Steve nods again.
"Alright." He hesitates for just a moment. "And are you currently still... um... offering that particular service?"
Bucky shakes his head.
"No. I haven't killed anyone in almost two years. I am not going to again."
That's the truth, plain and simple.
"Okay," Steve says, and that's all he says.
Which is slightly unnerving.
Bucky sets down his plate, and angles himself in the sofa to face Steve better.
"You're.. you're being really calm about all of this," he says. He isn't quite sure how people generally react when finding out their boyfriend is an ex-hitman, but he's fairly certain this isn't it.
Steve shrugs.
"I've known people who've done terrible things. My old best fri-"
Steve freezes.
Something akin to horror or regret crosses his face for a split second, him catching on his words, and it's gone as soon as it came.
He shifts into forced impassiveness, and clears his throat.
"Nevermind that. Just, I've known people who've done bad things. And I, myself, have done some bad things. You said you regret murdering people, and that you're not planning on doing it again, and I trust you."
"Really?" Bucky asks, and he's half glad that Steve doesn't hate him, and he's half sad that Steve had such bad friends that this doesn't even faze him.
Steve smiles, and rolls his eyes.
"Bucky, are you planning on murdering me at any point?" he asks, quite obviously teasing.
"Nope," Bucky answers instantly.
"Good," Steve says, and with that comes the mutual agreement that the conversation is over.
They turn back to lukewarm tea and half cold eggs, and make small talk about friends and TV over the remnants of their breakfast.
"So," Steve eventually asks, "What are you planning on doing today? I'm not kicking you out or anything, you can hang out here if you want."
Bucky shrugs.
He's heard rumors, a few hints from some friends in the business, that he's going to be getting some work soon. And although Steve is apparently okay with the milder forms of his work, Bucky would prefer not to arrange illegal business in front of his boyfriend.
"I'm expecting a phone call later – work related – but other than that, I didn't really have any plans today."
"So you wanna stay for a while? Watch some more Downton Abbey?" Steve asks eagerly.
"Sure," Bucky answers, and Steve grabs the remote.
They go through two and a half episodes before Steve falls asleep on Bucky's shoulder.
Bucky can't help but smile, because Steve genuinely appears consent when asleep. His pale blond hair is flopping over his eyes, and his breathing occasionally hitches. He's so small Bucky barely feels him on his shoulder, and Bucky can't help but smile at how well they fit together when he puts an arm around his shoulders.
He's half tempted to fall asleep with him, and nearly does doze off a few times.
He's half-asleep and the dvd is playing the menu song on loop, when his phone rings.
Bucky manages to untangle himself from Steve, and lays him down on the sofa, placing a blanket over him before moving over to the kitchen.
The number calling is vaguely familiar, but not one in his contacts, so it can't be a regular.
Bucky answers.
"Winter Soldier," is all he says. He only cringes a little. The name wasn't his own choice, it sprang from rumors and just stuck. Others appear to find it scary, though, so Bucky uses it.
He thinks over it for just a moment before the person on the other end of the line speaks.
"This is Tony Stark. I have another job for you, if you're interested."
Steve wakes up a little later.
Bucky's no where in his apartment.
There's a note on the white board on his fridge.
'Had to go, work stuff. See you soon 3'.
Steve smiles.