It was a cold night in New York City. In hindsight, Steve thought, perhaps the city Tony Stark kept in his pocket wasn't the best hideout place, unless Iron Man had assumed they had fled as far as possible. Clint had gone home to his family and was expecting to get caught any day now. Sam was out shopping and probably attempting to get Christmas plans together, since it was obvious neither Steve nor Bucky were going to try celebrating.
Although Bucky had been making recoveries, he was still broken. Deeply scarred, and growing increasingly scared of leaving his apartment. Once, Sam, without thinking, had spoken of soldiers with the same phobia, called agoraphobia, that, if left to grow, made the victim terrified of setting foot outside their house. Steve had only kept Bucky from falling headfirst into this phobia by moving them around frequently, unlikely spot to unlikely spot. The more strange and overlooked a town, the better.
Of course, NYC didn't exactly fit any of these requirements, but Steve felt drawn to it. So drawn, in fact, that he had endangered himself and his team, along with encouraging Bucky's phobia, by staying in this hotel for three weeks.
Bucky was sitting on the couch, staring off into the distance. Steve settled beside him after doing his routinely check on the windows and doors. Luckily, the cheap apartment room only had one small window and two doors, one leading into the room next door that either remained unoccupied or seldom used.
"Hey, Bucky," Steve said gently, resting a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Are...are you okay?" He regretted the question instantly. Of course Bucky wasn't okay-one look told him that.
Bucky was quiet for a moment, finally snapping back into focus and meeting Steve's worried gaze. "You distracted me," he whispered. "Every time I was sent after you, you distracted me from killing you. Because I couldn't remember who you were or who I was. I just knew how badly I wanted to kiss you?"
Steve barely had time to ask, "What?" before Bucky was on him, pressing his lips furiously and desperately to his. Steve tensed up and then relaxed, running his fingers through Bucky's hair.
Everyone assumed Captain America and the Winter Soldier had been nothing more than close childhood friends. Steve smiled against Bucky's lips at the thought. How foolish.
The door opened and the two men ripped apart. Steve's face was flushed. Bucky, on the other hand, looked calmer than he had for days as he stared at his shoes.
Sam furrowed his brow as his gaze drifted from his best friend to the man that he had risked his life to save. "Make sense now," he said easily, dropping groceries on the counter and turning to hide a grin.