The elevator stopped more than once on its way down. Natasha, who was currently living in a private suite of rooms on the fortieth floor, got out, waving farewell to the others as the doors closed. Bruce stopped at the twentieth floor, the lab, and left either to sleep in the small apartment he kept there for when he was working in the lab with Tony and didn't want the bother of commuting or to begin creating some wildly genius project. Steve walked out at the tenth floor, saying a polite goodnight to everyone remaining, and Bucky exited on the eighth, chucking Peter on the head fondly as he went. Clint and Peter were both heading all the way to the first floor where Happy was waiting to drive them to the Ritz and Aunt May's apartment respectively. Clint claimed he could never quite sleep well in the tower, though he also had his own set of rooms on the fiftieth floor where he occasionally crashed if he was too tired.
Everything was quiet for a few minutes. Then, a knock came at Steve's door. He smiled, knowing who it was, and opened it to find Bucky leaning against the door frame, obviously posing himself to look far too casual.
"Can I borrow a cup of sugar, sugar?" Bucky asked.
"You're a nut," Steve said, laughing and stepping back to let him in.
The moment the door closed, Bucky wrapped him in his arms and kissed him, soft and sweet.
"I really wish Loki hadn't cleaned up the last of that chocolate on your face," he murmured in Steve's ear. "I was trying not to stare at it all night, fantasizing about how I could lick it off you later."
Steve hummed appreciatively, pulling him closer and into another kiss before he drew back a little, placing a parting peck on Bucky's lips before he headed towards the kitchen.
"Sorry to deprive you of your chocolate-based fantasy, but I don't have any handy," he said. "Want some coffee?"
"That wasn't the first item on my list of things I want, but I'll take a mug, yeah," Bucky said, settling down on a barstool at the kitchen counter and watching Steve bustle around the kitchen, pulling out an old-fashioned percolator and setting it on the stovetop.
It was moments like this, when it could have been seventy years ago or now or seventy years in the future, that kept both of them going. The world had changed so much that it felt like they didn't belong most of the time. Food, clothes, music, technology: all of it required constant adjustments. But when they were together, they didn't feel out of place anymore. Things were nearly perfect.
Nearly.
Steve finished making coffee, pouring it into their usual mugs and adding cream to Bucky's while he took his own black. He slid the mug across the counter, Bucky catching it without even having to think. Steve sat down next to him on the other barstool, wrapping his hands around the mug. Bucky understood why. He did the same thing. After so many years on ice, he was always cold.
"Maybe I'm a masochist, but I think I'm almost starting to enjoy these parties," Bucky said, taking a sip of scalding-hot joe. "Almost. Mostly."
"It's kind of fun seeing everyone outside of all the pressure of saving the world every few minutes," Steve agreed. "Fury may have been right. We needed the bonding."
"Within limits," Bucky said, and an edge of something just a little bitter colored his words.
Steve caught it, of course, and his mug hovered halfway back to the table. Bucky wasn't looking at him, and a few seconds passed in uneasy silence.
"Look," Steve said, finally putting the mug down. "I don't think any of them has picked up on us yet. It's going to come as a shock, and I'm just—"
"Just worried it's going to change how they think of you?" Bucky said.
"Both of us, really," Steve said, looking down at the hardwood floor. He twisted his now-bare feet into the rungs of the barstool like a kid, studying their reflections in the highly polished wood.
"It's not the 1940s anymore," Bucky said.
"No," Steve said. "It's not."
"Are you happy about that are not?" Bucky asked.
"I don't know," Steve said. "You seem to be adjusting to everything better than I am."
Bucky gave a completely mirthless laugh and put down his coffee cup.
"Half of the time when I sleep without you, I wake up screaming," he said. "I keep thinking I'm back in Siberia and they're tinkering with my brain, dredging up memories and trying to keep me compliant for the next mission. I walk down the street constantly sizing up threats. Spots for potential sniper nests, subway grills that might be points of access, how the angle of the sunlight might create blind spots, and it's not just that I'm trying to protect myself. I'm automatically looking for ways to accomplish a kill strike. I can't turn it off."
"I'm sorry, Buck," Steve said, his face a shattered portrait of sorrow. "You never said."
"There's a lot neither one of us says," Bucky said, looking Steve full in the face. "Tell me the truth. What's going on with you?"
Steve sighed and took another sip of coffee before answering, "That's a long list."
"I don't have anywhere to go," Bucky said. "I'm listening."
Steve rolled his shoulders, trying to ease out the tension, but it didn't work. His spine slipped into a slump that looked like it would fit the body of a ninety-pound weakling a lot better than the muscled figure he now had.
"I'm happy I've got you," Steve said. "Before you came back, I felt so alone that it was like I hadn't left the Arctic. The others are good people, even if sometimes they don't realize when they're crossing the line from joking into poking sticks into wounds."
"Tony?" Bucky said.
"Bingo," Steve admitted. "I feel guilty even saying it because it seems like Howard ignored his own son to try to save me, and Tony thought he never measured up to what he thought was a ghost. Suddenly, the ghost turned out to be alive, and he's angry at me for stealing his father's attention even though I was unconscious at the time. So he lashes out. I get it. It's not my fault, but I get."
"Yeah," Bucky said. "He's a good guy, but he's sort of a jerk sometimes. Loveable jerk, but a jerk. What else?"
Steve looked uncomfortable again.
"I want to be honest about us seeing each other," Steve said. "I don't think most of them would react badly to it, but… it's hard to break old habits. I got used to thinking of what he had as a secret, something that was sort of…"
His voice drifted away, and Bucky waited a second before suggesting, "Shameful?"
"No," Steve said immediately. "No, not shameful. I could never be ashamed of you. But you know as well as I do what it was like back then."
Bucky had been back only about a year and a half. The previous Christmas, he and Steve still hadn't been together. They hadn't even spoken about it. But very slowly over the months, it had come out that they had been mutually but silently attracted to one another during the war, even before then, but times being what they were, neither of them had said anything. When they had both finally admitted it, Bucky had tentatively taken his hand and held it for over an hour, not moving, not asking for anything more, just savoring the joy of finally being able to touch Steve and know that they both felt the same.
As time passed, they had slowly allowed themselves to fall in love. It was both a dream come true and a nightmare because neither of them could quite stop being terrified. JARVIS was programmed not to put his nose into private business, and while the computer obviously knew that they were spending time with one another, even sleeping in each other's beds, he had assured them that no one else had access to those logs, not even Tony. Granted, he could be lying, but for some reason, both of them believed him.
"You want them to know, don't you?" Steve asked.
"Yeah," Bucky admitted. "Look, they're accepting Loki, a guy who at one point tried to kill half of them individually and the whole of New York generally. On top of that, it's obvious that he's batting for the other team. And his own team. And possibly teams that are in an entirely different sport."
"I'm not even sure I know what that means, and yet I agree," Steve said, chuckling. Then, he took Bucky's hand in his own. "I know I'm being stupid."
"You're not stupid," Bucky said. "I haven't exactly been blasting from the rooftops that the two of us are together, either. But I'm starting to feel less like I'm keeping a secret and more like I'm lying to people who are starting to be pretty good friends."
Steve nodded, saying, "That's exactly what it feels like."
He slammed the rest of his coffee, and Bucky did the same.
"Can we wait a couple weeks?" Steve asked. "We'll do it before the New Year."
"Sounds like a plan," Bucky said, then suddenly laughed. "Okay, bets on who's going to be the most shocked?"
"My money's on Thor," Steve said.
"A good pick, but I'm going with Bruce," Bucky said.
"Also a possibility," Steve said. "So, what does the winner get?"
Bucky smiled at him in a way that made his heart start beating faster.
"Whatever he wants," Bucky said.
"That's pretty open-ended," Steve said, smiling shyly at him from under his lashes.
"It is," Bucky said. "You chicken?"
"Nope," Steve said, kissing him and savoring the familiar hint of coffee on lips he once thought he would never taste.