The Omega Trials

by Samwise Baggins

Who would have thought than an innocent kiss on a hot summer's day would rock the world 83 years later?

6. Helping to Relax

Chapter Title: Helping to Relax

Author: Sam and Dani

Story: The Omega Trials: 06 of ?

Series: The Omega Rights (part two)

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Translation:

leanbh - baby - Irish Gaelic

Seamus - James - Irish Gaelic

Cariad - Love - Welsh

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Chapter Text

Setting: AU: Tuesday, September 5, 1933: Brooklyn, New York, United States of America

Bucky felt out of breath when he arrived outside the Brooklyn Home for Consumptives, but he none-the-less made his way directly to a bench outside the front door. Carefully, he lay his burden on the wooden surface and bent over Steve. "I'm gonna go inside and find your Mam, Stevie. You lay here and rest."

The small boy looked up at his best friend and smiled, nodding his head.

Not long after the brunet disappeared into the open windowed tuberculosis hospital, he re-emerged with Sarah Rogers in tow. Dressed in her crisp white uniform and thick stockings, the worried mother knelt next to her son on the wooden patient's bench. "Leanbh?" she cooed, reaching out to stroke his hair gently. "Seamus says you're in pain?"

Nodding, Steve groaned, "I started crampin' real bad after my exam at school."

"And what exam would that be, leanbh?" she asked softly, her voice sounding soothing as ever.

"Coach called it a prostate exam. Started hurtin' right after." Steve doubled over as another rush of pain surged through him.

Bucky held out the coach's note to Mrs. Rogers. "He gave Steve this, too. He . . ." the brunet looked down at his friend, "he said something about lumps?"

Sarah raised her soft blue eyes, worry creasing her features. With a nod, she looked down on her son. "Did he hurt you when he put his finger in to look for your prostate, leanbh, or after he took it back out?" Her words, at least, confirmed the coach had done a real medical exam and nothing havy cavy.

"It was real uncomfortable at first . . . but I didn't start crampin' until after." The son answered his voice strained from the obvious pain he suffered.

"Alright," she cooed again, standing. "James, stay with him. I'm going to call his doctor." And Sarah pushed back into the hospital in search of a phone.

Bucky stroked Steve's hair like his mother had, watching through worried blue-grey eyes. "Your doctor'll fix you right up, Stevie, you'll see."

After an agonizingly long time, Sarah walked out with her boss in tow. "Boys, this is my supervisor. He's going to drive us to Doctor Keilmeyer's office, since it's too far to walk." She scooped her son up into strong arms, muscled from years of lifting patients. Once by the shiny black Ford, she waited for her boss to open the door then placed Steve prone on the back seat. Bucky clambered in and sat directly on the uncomfortable floorboards beside the leather seat.

At the office, Sarah's boss picked up Steve in careful arms and carried the small boy up the steps, letting Bucky open the front door then the office door. Bucky hadn't knocked, but Doctor Keilmeyer merely stood up with a small worried frown. "Lay him on the bed, please." After obeying, the boss and Sarah walked into the hall, talking softly, but Bucky removed his cap respectfully and looked from Steve to the doctor.

The blond boy whimpered when another cramp coiled tightly, but he look over at his friend. "Ya' don't hafta stay for this, Buck."

Nodding, still worried, Bucky sighed. "Okay, but I'll go to your place after school, okay?" He turned back to Doctor Keilmeyer. "You take good care of him, doc." Shoving his cap back on his head, Bucky let himself from the room and allowed Sarah's supervisor to take him back to school.

Sarah knocked. "Do you want me in there or out here, leanbh?"

"Ya' can stay out there, Momma." Steve muttered, not wanting his Momma to watch as Doctor Keilmeyer would, undoubtedly, perform another prostate exam.

Her soft voice drifted back. "I'll be right out here then."

The doctor, true to Steve's suspicions, did want to perform another exam. But first he softly asked "can you tell me what this pain feels like, Steven?" The tall, thin man moved around the bed preparing ointment and other things, pulling out a sheet from his vast cabinets.

"It feels like something inside is tearing me apart and pulling my guts out my . . . butt," Steve whispered the last word.

With a nod, Doctor Keilmeyer gently lifted the boy's shirt. He began lightly pressing on Steve's abdomen, watching for any signs.

Steve groaned slightly in discomfort as the doctor prodded the sensitive area.

Nodding again, the doctor removed his hands. "This could be related to stomach issues, gas or even food poisoning. Have you had any watery stools? Any vomiting?"

"No, Sir." The blond reported, sighing weakly when the doctor stopped pushing down on the abdomen.

"Hmmm," the doctor sighed. "Well, I will have to do an examination of your rectum, Steven. I will be gentle, I promise." The doctor had never once hurt his young patient, and had always kept his word, right down to regularly providing ration cards for Steve over the two years the boy had been coming to him on a monthly basis. "If you can undress your lower half . . . I can help you if needed. I'll cover you with this sheet."

The boy shook his head, slowly standing. "I think I can do it on my own." Steve shuffled behind the screen and, for the second time that day, slowly stripped off his trousers and briefs, folding them neatly on the waiting chair as always.

With a nod, Doctor Keilmeyer put the sheet carefully on the bed and walked back to Steve's chart on the desk, making notations and not watching the young man of fifteen undressing behind the privacy screen. When the boy emerged, the doctor waited until he got to the bed before speaking up, "don't sit or lie down, Steven. This will be least uncomfortable one of two ways. Either you can bend over the bed and I can do the exam, or, if it's more comfortable, you can kneel on your hands and knees, which opens the rectum even wider." His voice remained detached, yet gentle. "I do suggest the second choice, and then I can use a scope to see inside . . . a very narrow tube and light that will show me what's inside. Not the most pleasant of exams, but the best to figure out what is wrong. But, only if you agree, Steven."

Not wanting to risk the chance that he might have to do this again, Steve decided to take Doctor Keilmeyer's advice. Wordlessly, the small boy kneeled down in the position the doctor had described.

With a small nod, the doctor walked up next to Steve and presented the very thin tube to his view. It was hollow and only half the width around as the coach's finger had been. "First, I will use my finger for the regular exam, and then I will look in with this scope. Is that understood? You accept?"

Releasing a shaky breath, Steve nodded. "I understand."

"Right then." And the doctor proceeded to put a slick ointment on the tube then placed it carefully on the sheet near Steve. He then dipped his finger in a generous amount of the same lube and brought his hand to Steve's rear end. "Breathe deep and let it out slowly, Steven, pushing a bit backwards in your rectum while you do so." As the boy obeyed, the man gently slid his finger into the opening, finding the prostate with no problem but not dwelling there like the coach had. Instead, after apparently feeling for lumps or lesions, he slid the finger all the way as far as he could, still feeling. As quickly as the exam began, the doctor removed his finger, a rather impersonal and mostly unerotic testing.

"Did I hurt you, Steven?

"No, Sir. Not at all." To be honest, the boy was a little surprised. He had been expecting the same, drawn out process that had made him hard and yearning.

Offering a small smile, the doctor asked, "are you ready for the scope now, Steven?"

Releasing another deep breath, Steve nodded. "Yes, Sir."

Doctor Keilmeyer picked up his scope, carefully removed any lubricant blocking the end, and touched the warmed metal next to Steve's inner thigh. "See? There it is. Now, same as before, deep breath in then out and push very slightly. This will be less thick than my finger, I assure you." Again, the doctor waited for Steve to obey then he carefully slide the metal into Steve's rectum, looking through it, using a bright light over his shoulder. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could make a light so tiny, it fit on the end, Steven?" he mused then pulled the tube straight back out with equal care. "Done. There are wet washcloths and towels behind the screen. Feel free to take your time cleaning then dress and come back around to my desk."

Steve shot up and nearly ran over to the shielded comfort that the screen offered. Just as the doctor had said, a few wet washcloths and towels were piled on the counter.

The doctor ignored his young patient dressing in favor of putting his scope in a large bowl of iodine then walking to the sink and scrubbing his hands thoroughly. "If you wish soap, Steven, you'll find some back there as well," he called. He then moved to his desk, sat down in his large chair, and began to write on the file's first blank page, starting with the date and procedure performed.

Quickly, but thoroughly, Steve cleaned himself. Picking up his briefs, the fifteen year old stopped, his eyes widening at the sight of blood spotting the linen. Holding the briefs out in front of him, Steve walked out from behind the screen.

"Sir." He called out.

"Yes, Steven?" Doctor Keilmeyer rose to his feet and walked over, concern on his face. "What is it?"

Holding out the briefs so that the doctor could see, he stated, "There's blood. I must've not noticed it before."

"Yes, but I did, Steven," the doctor's voice sounded soothing, matter-of-fact. "I saw a slight lesion high up on the wall of your rectum. I believe your coach was too rough and hurt you." He shook his head. "I wish to talk further about this, as well. Please, if you want new briefs there are some in the cabinet. Find your size. Keep them. Put the damaged ones in cold water. It is how I remove blood from my apron after surgery."

Steve nodded and walked back behind the screen. He opened a few cabinets before finding the one that held a pile of briefs. Luckily, Steve didn't have to sift through the multiple pairs because a size small enough for his slight frame rested on top. Quickly he pulled on the pair and his trousers, just as he was tightening the drawstring on his athletic shorts, a realization came upon him. The painful cramps seemed to have dissipated, he no longer felt the tearing cramps.

Shuffling out from behind the screen, Steve made his way to where the doctor currently sat. "The cramps. They're gone." The boy reported as he took a seat.

Relief crossed his doctor's thin face. "That is great news, Steven. It also supports my theory. Let us talk first about your condition then about your teacher." Looking directly into Steve's vibrant blue eyes, meeting the boy's gaze with respect, the doctor said "aside from that small lesion, which should heal on its own, I found no problems whatsoever. Not a single lump or abnormality. You are perfectly normal inside, Steven."

"Really," Steve beamed at the great news, "There's nothin' wrong with me?"

Laughing softly, the doctor shook his head and smiled gently. "Not this time, Steven. The cramps were probably from tension . . . it is terrifying to have a prostate exam, even for a full grown man. If you never tried to explore your anus, or let your friend do so," he acted as if it were normal for boys to play that way, but then again, he had been Steve's doctor for two years and knew Bucky and Steve were uncommonly close, "then of course you would not known how to take a full grown man putting his fingers up you."

Eyebrows furrowed, Steve asked, "You sayin' Coach caused my cramps?"

Doctor Keilmeyer nodded firmly. "I think he did, Steven, but it is also possibly another symptom of your nervous disposition . . . the asthma? I think the cramps may be an extension of that." Leaning back in his chair slightly, he frowned softly. "This teacher. When he did your exam, it hurt? Honesty, Steven, tell me exactly what you felt, what he did."

"It was real uncomfortable at first, nothin' like how you did it. Had me bend over the desk and slicked up his finger . . .which was bigger than your's… he pushed it in. But I tensed up, said I needed to relax so he could finish the exam." Steve took a deep breath before he continued, "so I tried to relax. I just wanted it to be over. But Coach, once he found my prostate, kept strokin' it." Steve left out the fact that he'd felt intense pleasure at the feeling.

The doctor nodded at Steve's words. He continued to frown, but listened patiently. "And, how did that make you feel, Steven?" his doctor asked, as if reading his mind.

Blushing, afraid of getting in trouble but not wanting to lie to the doctor, he said, "Felt good? I don't really know how to describe it."

"Like a jolt of electricity through your penis that felt good, not bad?" the doctor supplied.

"Sure," Steve shrugged, "I guess that's how I felt."

Looking over his glasses at the boy, smiling kindly, he asked "and this teacher, after finding your prostate continued to stroke it?" He didn't sound surprised by Steve's admission.

"Yeah, kept watchin' me too. I just wanted the exam to be over, honest!"

With a gentle nod the doctor added, "but it felt good and you secretly wanted more, Steven?"

"Well . . . I mean it did feel good. But I didn't want Coach to keep starin' at me like that."

Soothingly, the doctor asked "And when did he put his finger all the way in, Steven? When did he scratch you like that? Did he do that more than once, too?"

Shrugging slightly, Steve muttered, "Towards the end, I guess? He pushed in real deep, twice. I could feel his hand on my butt."

With a final nod, the doctor stood and walked over to Steve but didn't touch the boy. Instead, he put his hand in his apron pocket and pulled out some penny candy . . . black licorice in a twist of paper and real butterscotch. "Here, for your nerves, Steven."

Steve's eyes lit up at the sight of the candy. "Gee, thanks." Steve could imagine how happy Bucky would be when he shared the sweets with the other boy. The small blond took the candy.

Doctor Keilmeyer moved back to his chair and sank onto it. "Let me first assure you that your reaction was normal. In fact, I would be rather surprised that with repeated stimulus you failed to get an erection, given that even with your infertility you still reach orgasm and leak semen without spermatozoa." He watched the boy for his reaction.

The blond looked back up at the doctor, concern pooling his his blue eyes, "I'm normal though, right, Sir? Even though I got a stiffy when he did that?"

"Perfectly normal. What the coach most likely failed to mention is that the prostate gland is a sexual organ. It releases lubricant into the semen when stimulated. Thus, it is meant to be stimulated, as well as meant to cause pleasure and erection and even orgasm. Most men can achieve this during sexual intercourse by squeezing their own rectum, something they do unconsciously during the sexual act. But other men find it more pleasing to have manual stimulation." The doctor offered his smile once more to Steven. "As far back as the last century, medical science has been prescribing prostate massage to relieve tension and prevent or cure prostate cancer, Steven."

"Huh," Steve mused.

"In fact, if you find it pleasant, and you have clean hands, I would encourage you to incorporate it when pleasuring yourself. It can relieve the stress and might even prevent your cramping," the man told him.

"Really? Doing that could help stop my cramps?"

The doctor nodded. "I highly recommend it, Steven. It might not work, but it would not hurt to try . . . if you find it pleasurable and are careful not to cut yourself." The smile dropped away. "Now, what your teacher did was not correct." He stood again and strode to the office door, listened without opening it, then walked back to stand by Steve. "I cannot do much about him, except give you permission to either go back to his class or to skip it all together. But a grown man should never handle a developing boy as if he is . . . a sexual partner. And if he needed to check you with more than one stroke, and felt the need to go palm deep, and had to watch you so closely, I think he was taking pleasure for himself, not helping you." The doctor crossed his arms, looking suddenly fierce for the first time ever. "I cannot have them remove the man, as it is a child's word against a trusted teacher, but I would suggest that if he needs to perform any more tests or exams on you, refuse and leave."

Shaking his head, not wanting to be taken out of the only class that he shared with Bucky, Steve said, "I think I'll be okay, Doctor Keilmeyer, thank you though. If he wants to do anymore tests, I'll leave. But right now, I think I wanna stay in class."

"Very well," the doctor let his arms uncross, looking worried but obviously respecting Steve's choice. He strode around his desk, quickly penned the note to get Steve admitted back into class, and offered it to him. "Do you need lubricant, Steven?" he asked, straight faced, eyes serious. Despite the initial idea that the man might be denouncing him for a queer at that first appointment, he had been nothing but supportive of anything Steve had said or hinted at.

Heat rising into his cheeks, Steve nodded, "Uh . . . sure. Just so I don't hurt myself or nothin'."

"Naturally. Why else would you need it?" He turned to his medicine cabinet and pulled out a jar the same size the coach had used. "Now, try to use this sparingly, but if you run out before our next appointment, tell me and I'll make sure you get it more often. I would recommend using it to make your erection easier to pleasure, as well, or you may chaff." He handed the ointment jar to the boy without the hint of a smile or derision.

Steve took the jar and slipped it into his pocket. "Thanks Doc," he said, smiling up at the man who had become much more like a friend over the past few years.

Smiling back, finally, the doctor nodded and patted the boy's thin shoulder. "Well, if I was able to take on all your conditions, Steven, I would. But at least with sexual problems, I am an expert. So, please, if you feel you need help in this area, come to me. I will always give you my total honest opinion and my full knowledge. Now, I shall talk to your mother? Or do you wish to tell her the cramps were from tension over the unexpected exam? You don't have to tell her more than you are comfortable with."

"I don't want her to know about Coach. It'd just make her worry more. I'll tell her it was the tension. No reason to make her fret over nothin'," Steve decided after a moment of thoughtful silence. He knew how much his Momma worried about him, and if he could do anything to give her one less thing to worry about, he would.

With a nod, Doctor Keilmeyer opened the office door. "Mrs. Rogers? Your son is fine and you can bring him home. He will tell you what we discussed." He smiled back at Steve and nodded. "Good luck, Steven. I will see you at our next appointment."

Sarah looked to her son. "Do you want to talk on our walk or after we get home?" It was an almost obvious attempt at judging how good or bad the diagnosis had been.

"We can talk on the way." Steve answered.

Relief flooded Sarah's sweet face and she smiled at her boy. "Then, let us get home. Bucky must be beside himself with worry for you." She thanked the doctor and listened carefully as Steve spoke about his tension cramps while they walked the few blocks back to their small apartment. Finally, with a nod, she said "I've heard of stress making someone sick, so I believe he's correct, leanbh. What a relief!"

Smiling, Steve hummed a noise of agreement.

Bucky sat leaning against the cement balustrade of their tenement steps. He rose, with a hopeful, worried mix of emotions across his pretty features. "Stevie? What'd he say?" At his feet sat Steve's school clothes and books.

Steve shrugged, flicking his eyes over to his Momma before returning them back to the brunet.

Scooping up Steve's school things into his arms, Bucky nodded in understanding. "Why don't we talk inside instead of where the neighbors can eavesdrop?" He followed Sarah, grinning softly at Steve, as the woman led them to the apartment, unlocked the door, and held it open for the two boys, as always. Bucky led Steve down the hall to the tiny bedroom, but made Steve latch the door once they were both inside, busily dumping the stuff from his arms onto Steve's chair.

Finally, he turned. "Okay, your Mam was smiling, so it can't be serious, right?"

Steve grinned, "Doc said it was a false alarm. Couldn't find anything wrong with me. Said the cramps were probably caused by my nerves like my asthma. Also said that a prostate massage, ya' know, strokin' the place that felt good inside, is good for stress relief."

Tilting his brunet head, Bucky grinned almost lazily at Steve. "So, it's supposed to feel good . . . and touching it can make your nerves better, Steve?"

Blushing the blond boy smiled, leaning up and pressing his lips to Bucky's before saying, "Yeah. That's what the Doc said. Also said that it could prevent cancer."

"Well, we'll have to make sure you get plenty of touching, won't we?" Bucky breathed into Steve's mouth on a chuckle. He lightly traced his tongue across the seam of Steve's lush lips. "Want some now?" he offered throatily.

Smiling into the kiss, Steve nodded his head slightly. "Yeah, might settle my nerves. I can give you one if ya' want, too, Buck."

Bucky laughed, and said, "maybe sometimes. It didn't feel bad after all." He pushed Steve gently onto the mattress and began to untie the younger boy's athletic shorts then moved onto his drawers. "but let's start with you, Stevie." Finally, after two years of carefully obeying the restrictions the doctor had put on Steve, Bucky slid his calloused hand into Steve's pants, and drawers, and stroked along his length. The brunet leaned in to kiss his best friend.

Steve crashed his lips against Bucky's, arching his back in an attempt to push himself further into his friend's hand.

Chuckling softly, Bucky breathed, "needy little thing, ain't ya?" He gently pulled Steve's bottom clothing from that thin body and pushed the shirt up over his head, stealing kisses every few seconds. Sitting back, having straddled Steve during their foreplay, the lean older boy stripped off his shirt and reached to untie his trousers, his own erection beginning to strain at the fabric.

"Wait," Steve breathed, "Doc gave me somethin'. It's in my pocket."

Leaning down to shuffle through Steve's pockets, Bucky came out with the jar of ointment. "This?" his voice rasped in growing desire.

"Yeah, should work a lot better than spit." Steve mumbled, slightly distracted as his long fingers pulled at the waistline of Bucky's school pants. "Gotta get these off, Buck."

Sliding his weight from one leg to another, Bucky helped Steve remove the restrictive clothing, he hardness jutting up proudly towards his abdomen. "Yeah, hard to do this with 'em on," he breathed back, kissing Steve's collarbone.

Arching his back in pleasure, Steve gently nipped at Bucky's earlobe; causing the brunet's erection to twitch excitedly.

Once they were nude, Bucky carefully sat upon Steve's hips once more, his pelvis pushing into Steve's, the base of his manhood and his heavy sack hanging over Steve's erection. Carefully, Bucky unscrewed the jar lid and placed it aside, then dipped his finger in the slick, oily substance. "Kinda like before?" he asked, "or do you wanna lay on your back this time?" he referred to the coach's exam, though not in words.

"Yeah," Steve assured, "I need ya', Buck," making little sense in his lust.

Bucky nodded and kissed Steve's lips then got off of his friend's hips. "Open your legs, Cariad," he instructed hoarsely.

Doing as he was told, Steve spread his legs, openly displaying himself for his best friend. The blond's cheeks flushed as Bucky took in the sight of Steve sprawled out on the bed below him.

"Beautiful, Stevie," the brunet murmured and reached down between the blond's legs to stroke the slicked finger across the bud of his opening. He leaned in and kissed Steve then sat back again and pushed gently at the passage. "Breath for me, Cariad . . ."

Steve took a deep breath and nodded, "Alright, Buck." After another breath, Steve's body relaxed. "I'm ready."

"Okay," Bucky carefully, gently, slid his finger into the tight opening, already loosened twice that day. His eyes opened in wonder at the radiant look on Steve's beautiful face. "Steve," he murmured, and slid his finger deeper inadvertently right over the other boy's prostate.

Gasping as the jolt of pleasure shot through him, Steve arched his spine again. "There. Right there."

Bucky nodded, smiling at giving his friend such pleasure. He carefully moved his finger around, caressing the hot walls inside Steve's tightness and once more finding that bundle of nerves. "There?" he asked to be certain he's discovered the right spot.

Throwing his head back again the bed, Steve let out a loud whimper, "There, Buck," and his member began to fill immediately.

The older boy slid his finger gently, pulling it slowly in an outward motion before caressing it back and and over Steve's erotic spot. He watched Steve intently, but this felt far different from the coach's creepy observation. This was Bucky, and only care and love shone in the other boy's eyes as he stroked Steve over and over.

As Steve began to leak precum from his manhood, Bucky grinned almost wickedly. He leaned over to lap at the tip of Steve's erection, over the slit, tasting the salty bitter drop of fluid. Bucky's gentle licking drew a low moan from his friend, and the brunet wrapped his free hand around Steve's member, stroking him in time with his internal caresses and his lapping.

It didn't take long before Steve tumbled over the edge, erotic stimulation overwhelming all his senses. He brought the crook of his elbow to his mouth and bit down as he cums hard and fast.

Smiling at the other boy's release, Bucky gently began to clean the cum from his friend's thighs and shaft, not minding the taste at all as he tended to Steve's needs.

The smaller boy groaned, a noise that came from the back of his throat, as he watched the erotic, dirty sight of the brunet lapping up the remaining seed on Steve's skin.

Finally, Bucky slid his finger gently out of Steve and crawled up his friend, kissing him from his root, up his abdomen and chest, and finally ending in a long, deep kiss across Steve's mouth..

Tasting himself on Bucky's mouth, Steve let out another low groan. He began to reach to wrap his hand around the brunet's very hard and needy shaft but a better idea crossed his mind. Smiling wickedly, the blond slid down his friend's lean body, trailing his tongue over the sweat-salted flesh, tasting Bucky with every lap. Without hesitating, Steve took the brunet's tip into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the sensitive flesh, Steve took in more of Bucky's length. The blond made a low, humming noise from the back of this throat.

The brunet clutched at the sheets, trying to keep his hips still under the erotic onslaught of Steve's wonderful mouth. He began babbling almost as soon as he felt the vibrations down his member and into his sack, right back to his ass. "God, Stevie!" he whimpered on a bare whisper, then fell back into the indecipherable babble.

Steve, encouraged by the praise, hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard.

"I'm gonna lose it, Stevie," Bucky's hoarse voice moaned a soft warning.

Ignoring Bucky's warning, Steve continued to hum as he used his tongue inside the suction of his mouth, tasting and caressing Bucky's throbbing shaft, feeling it begin to thicken. Suddenly, Bucky shot thick ropes of cum into Steve's hot mouth, gasping and whimpering, babbling in a mix of languages, as he'd done the other time he'd orgasmed with Steve. He watched with wide blue-grey eyes as the rosey mouth and dusky pink tongue lapped up every bit of cum. Finally spent and somewhat cleaner, Bucky pulled Steve up to seal a kiss over his mouth, sharing their flavors.

"Well, that's got me relaxed, Stevie," he breathed.

Chuckling as he pulled the summer quilt over them, Steve murmured, tucking his head under Bucky's chin, "Me too, Buck. Gotta relieve stress more often."

With a nod, slipping his chin over Steve's head, Bucky rumbled, "Yeah, gotta do that, Stevie." He cuddled his friend close to his heart and sighed in sleepy bliss.

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Continued in Chapter Seven: Tata