A/N: Hiiiiii. I'm back. We're back. Let's see what the boys are up to.

Steve thought maybe Bucky was in shock. He'd managed to get his friend out of the courtroom and into the hallway, but every gentle question he asked didn't seem to compute.

"Sorry. I guess none of this seems real yet," Bucky said, eyes still as wide as a child's.

Steve could understand that. In his line of work, he saw a lot of bittersweet endings. Yes, he could seek justice and win, but it was only after a grievous wrong had been done. Crime, pain, devastation—none of it could be undone.

But Bucky was the picture of a good man who'd convinced himself his life was over only to be told it had just begun. It must have been overwhelming to expect the rest of his days to be lived out behind bars and high, chain link fences and then to be given the rest of the world back.

"Hey, Rogers."

Steve turned to find Tony striding toward him. It was all he could do not to grimace. He made a signal that Tony should wait and turned back to Bucky and Natasha, who'd been walking with them. "Do you have someplace to go, Buck?"

"I…" Bucky blinked. "You mean, like to stay? A home?" He gave a huff of laughter. "No, man. I don't know where I'm going."

"How about you come stay with me?"

"Steve—"

"Don't worry about it. We'll figure it all out." He looked to Natasha. "Hey. You think you can do me one last favor?"

Natasha cut her eyes between Steve and Tony standing a small distance back. "You want me to take our friend here to pick up his things and drop him off at your place while you see what fires have to be put out?" She arched a well-manicured eyebrow, a smirk playing at her lips.

"If it's no trouble."

"Not for you, Steve."

"Thanks." Steve offered Bucky a reassuring smile and watched for a moment as Natasha led him away. Then, he took a deep breath, and turned to face Tony.

He was leaning up against the wall, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised as though in condescending impatience. Steve put on his best, 'yes sir' face and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, Tony." He offered a hand.

Tony ignored it. "Okay, so, the obligatory post-win party. Seeing that it's a Thursday, how about we move it to tomorrow night? We can do it up right at my place, and that way, I won't have to find a ride home." He snickered.

Now it was Steve's turn to blink like a confused kid. He understood what the other man was trying to do. It was tradition in their office that any time they had a win, the whole team went out to celebrate. Tony had moved the celebrations to his place more than once, especially when he was in the mood for a more raucous party.

There was one small problem here. "Tony… You lost."

Tony's trademark cocky grin came back in full force. He clapped Steve's shoulder. "Yeah, but you didn't. It was a good case, counselor. Well fought." He rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying I don't think this guy is trouble, but you're a big boy. You get to make that call for yourself."

He clapped his hands together. "So. My place. Tomorrow night, at eight o'clock. Bring the bad boy boyfriend."

"It's not like that with us."

Tony made a 'whatever' motion with his hand. "Don't care. The point is, bring him. And see if you can't get him into some leather pants. It goes with the image. That and—I'm pretty sure he's hiding a great ass behind that suit jacket. I don't know. You tell me."

"I wouldn't know." Despite himself, Steve's cheeks had gone hot. Of course he knew. It wasn't his fault he had eyes and Bucky, well… Bucky hadn't had much to do in jail besides work out.

Tony just stared at him a beat. "Okay. Play it cool if you want to, Cap, but tomorrow, you're giving me your RSVP." He'd begun unbuttoning his jacket as he spoke. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go lick my wounds. Or, you know, find someone to do it for me."

"Good luck with that," Steve said with a laugh.

"Oh, that's a guaranteed win. Especially if you're not there to cockblock me. You have a good night. Remember, you don't know where he's been so be safe. Wrap it tight."

Steve could do nothing but shake his head as Tony strode away, whistling.

~0~

Looking around his place, Steve couldn't help but hear what Bucky would say. "Come on, Rogers. What are you, an army man? Even they got pictures of their best girl up. Something, man. Give me something."

It wasn't that Steve wanted his place to look so barren—white and clean. He just hadn't gotten around to decorating, was all. He was at work a lot.

Well, it was too late now. Now, all he could do was put his dirty coffee cup in the dishwasher and rearrange his collection of artsy statuettes he'd collected from the different countries he'd been to.

He hadn't been home for long when there was a knock at the door. Natasha must have charmed her way in. Sure enough, he opened the door to find her standing next to Bucky in the hallway.

The moment he opened the door, something in the air shifted. Steve saw Natasha, but his eyes went straight to Bucky.

His friend's eyes were clearer than they had been in the courthouse, and there was something in them that set Steve's heart beating faster. It was an odd sensation. Like static just under his skin. Bucky looked back at him, and there was something in the slight curve of his lips that caught Steve's attention and held it.

"Uh, hi," Steve said, feeling foolish. He cleared his throat and stepped backward. "Come on in."

"Not me." Natasha was grinning at him—a smile that rivaled Tony's all-knowing grin. "Just dropping off the precious cargo here." She tilted her head toward Bucky.

"No. Natasha. Stay, won't you? I could get you a drink. The least I owe you is dinner," Steve said, managing finally to remember his manners.

"Got places to be, Rogers. A life to live that doesn't involve you." She winked at him and turned to Bucky. "Nice working with you, Barnes. I hope I never have the pleasure again."

He shook her hand. "Thank you for everything, Ms. Romanoff. I hope I can repay you someday."

She smiled more genuinely. "Stay out of trouble." To Steve she said, "We're even. Not that it matters. I'm sure I'll have red in my ledger again soon."

Then, Steve and Bucky were alone.

It wasn't that the quiet was awkward. Rather, it seemed charged somehow. There was a feeling of anticipation in the air, but of what, Steve couldn't figure out. It had him tongue-tied and discombobulated.

Steve had two modes—carefully plan and execute or dive in head first. The problem was he was neither prepared nor was he at all sure what he was diving into. He hadn't thought things through at all beyond the trial.

Of course, given that it was Bucky's life in question, it wasn't like Steve could have made any decisions anyway. Right. That was why he was out of sorts.

"You hungry?" he blurted the words. "Or thirsty."

Bucky smiled. It was a strange smile. Not quite weak, but not the brilliant grin he'd often flashed when they were teenagers, full of teeth. "I'm okay," he said simply.

"Okay." Steve paused a beat. "How about a tour?"

Bucky agreed, but Steve got the sense he would have agreed to anything right then. He was unnaturally quiet. He followed Steve around like a docile puppy, looking around the sparse apartment. He did get a strange smile on his face at one point.

"Just...You got your own place," Bucky said when Steve finally asked him what his look was all about.

Steve ducked his head. "It's okay."

"It's got two bedrooms, Steve."

The way Bucky looked at him, like Steve was some kind of special for being able to afford an apartment like this all on his own, did strange things to his blood. It was too hot, for one thing. "I didn't think you'd like it."

"Well, I mean, it looks like a monk lives here instead of Steve Rogers."

They both chuckled, exchanging almost shy glances. Steve rolled his shoulders, trying to expel the weird energy roiling between them. "Come on. I'll show you the rest of the apartment."

More out of nervousness than anything else, Steve narrated with way too much detail. The third tile in the kitchen was the same color but a slightly different design. The view from the tiny window looked out at the bedroom for the building next door.

"And there's this weird space in the living room behind the built-in shelves. One day, when Tony was over here, he goes over to the shelf and pulls out this bottle of Jack." Steve shook his head.

"Tony as in Stark? As in the guy that was trying his hardest to get me sent up for the rest of my natural life?" Bucky had a weird look on his face. "Are you and he a…"

"Oh." Steve laughed. It sounded as nervous and guilty—why the hell should he feel guilty—as he felt. "He comes over when we have a case to work on. Don't get me wrong. He wishes it was different, but I'm over one-night stands at this point. Plus, dating a colleague?" He shook his head. "Just not a good idea any way you look at it."

The disturbed look faded from Bucky's face. "Yeah, that sounds like you."

Steve moved on down the hallway to where the two bedrooms were.

Really, he didn't know why he'd saved the bedrooms for last. They should have been first, or at least Bucky's should have been. His few possessions were in a plastic bag in the hallway. It would probably be nice for him to get settled in.

"It's mostly a work out room right now," Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck. "The sofa is a pull out, but we can rearrange everything and get a bed tomorrow." He cleared his throat. "Uh… And this is my room." He walked back out into the hallway and gestured at his door. "In case you...Um…"

He turned around and was startled to find Bucky right behind him. Just right there. Steve's heart skipped a beat and then picked up in double time. His eyes darted to Bucky's lips and back again.

"In case I what?" Bucky asked. His voice was low and husky. His breath fell hot on Steve's lips.

"In case…" Steve was having trouble concentrating. That might have been because Bucky had tilted his head and rested a hand at his hip. "In case you want…"

"This?" Bucky suggested, sliding his hand so it was warm on Steve's back. His lips brushed Steve's with a feather touch.

"Um…" It seemed to Steve like there was something he should be thinking about. Bucky was his guest. Wasn't it impolite to want him as much as he did right now? And there was more, besides. Like their past, and what even was happening here.

Steve exhaled and tilted his head to catch Bucky's lips, kissing him. It was a quick press of their lips. A taste. And just like that, familiarity rushed back. He was a full-grown man with problems and issues. Steve couldn't begin to understand the things he'd been through, but it didn't really matter. He was still his Bucky.

Bucky took his face in his hands, tilting his head up for another kiss and another. Steve closed the gap between them so they were chest to chest. His kisses were hungry now; like a man who hadn't realized it had been days since he ate.

Oh, hell. Bucky tasted good. The muscles of his back felt good under Steve's hands even through the fabric of his dress shirt.

There was a reason Steve had actively not let himself want this. What was it?

"Buck?" Steve didn't quite break their kiss. He just made it smaller. Less desperate. Little pecks along Bucky's upper lip.

"Huh?" Bucky's eyes were closed. He was as breathless as Steve was, kissing him between pants.

"You, uh…" God, he tasted good. Steve was dizzy with the want to just give in, pull Bucky toward him and devour. "You're not, um… You're not doing this because...because you think you have to?"

That seemed important. Steve wasn't that naive. Maybe he didn't think Bucky was a murderer, but he knew damn well he was a drug addict, among other things. He knew what some addicts did to get a hit.

To his surprise, Bucky laughed. He pulled back, cupping Steve's face in his hands again. "I know you better than that."

Not that he wouldn't have done it, some distant part of Steve's brain noted. He furrowed his brow. He still hadn't caught his breath.

Bucky stroked his thumbs along Steve's cheekbones with a tender touch. "At least, I did know you. You could have become some drugged up asshole since the last time I saw you, huh? Maybe just better at not getting caught."

Steve licked his lips. "I smoked pot a couple of times."

"Yeah?" He kissed him gently. "You want me to stop?" His fingertips ran along Steve's spine.

By that point, Steve didn't have any words left. There was a lot to talk about, but all of that seemed like a distant second to his need for this. For Bucky. So his only response was to hook his finger in between the buttons of Bucky's dressy shirt and pull him closer.

It was like a fire had erupted all around them. All Steve knew was heat and the man in front of him. He untucked Bucky's shirt and splayed his hand over his abs. He groaned into his mouth.

"You like that, huh?" Bucky said, teasing him.

A thrill went down Steve's spine. This was the Bucky he remembered—self-assured and playful. He knew what he was doing, and Steve was happy to let him lead. Bucky gripped his hips, spun him, and pressed him up against the wall, attacking his neck with nips as Steve threw his head back with a gasp.

Oh, yeah. Letting him lead was one of the better ideas Steve had had lately.

"I think—" Bucky said between kisses, running his hands down Steve's sides and cupping his ass. "—you were about to show me your room."

For months now, Steve's single-minded goal was to get Bucky out of jail and out of trouble. In that quest, he'd pushed everything aside, including his deep-seated desire for this.

Thing was...as much as he'd tried to convince himself he was just a dumb high school kid, Steve had never had anything like he'd had with Bucky. Not even close.

This was a dance he'd thought he'd forgotten, but picking it up again was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers made quick work of Bucky's shirt. They made it into the bedroom between kisses and clothing sliding to the floor.

To Steve's surprise, Bucky lifted him up into his arms. He gasped and then laughed, looping his arms around Bucky's neck. The other man grunted. "This was easier when you were a little thing," he grumbled. He set Steve down on the bed, and took his cock in his hand and grinning as he stroked him. "Of course, I like you as a bigger thing just fine."

Steve snorted. He stretched his arm out to the nightstand and took a pack of condoms and a bottle of lube from the drawer. He tossed these at Bucky.

"You're such a fucking Boy Scout," Bucky teased, kneeling between Steve's legs. "Always prepared."

When Bucky touched him, all the memories Steve had pushed to the back of his mind all these long years without him came rushing back. It had been like this with them when they were kids—as easy as breathing. When Bucky whispered, "Do you wanna…" it was nothing for Steve to answer, "Yes." Yes, he would try that. Yes, he wanted Bucky to do this. Yes. He would go wherever Bucky led him.

It was the same, and it was different. Bucky wasn't a boy anymore. He didn't move like a boy—all eagerness and no grace at all. This wasn't the time for exploration either. Bucky knew what Steve wanted, what he needed, without asking, and when he pushed inside him, it was everything. Completeness and pleasure and that elusive thing that Steve hadn't even known he was looking for until it found him. It was the answer to every question. Why had he just known Bucky was innocent? Why had he risked everything to help him? Why had he accepted him back into his arms and into his bed despite all the bullshit and bad blood between them since the day Bucky had left?

Because Bucky was his. That was all there was to it.

Steve crossed his legs behind Bucky's back, needing him closer, deeper. Bucky had grabbed his hands and pinned them above his head, their fingers twined as he pumped into him. They hadn't stopped kissing, as though the need to be connected in every way possible was more important than anything. Though when they had to breathe, they spoke only in a language comprised of each other's names mumbled against skin.

When they were both sated, it was Steve who took Bucky in his arms, sheltering him the way he wanted to since his case had come across his desk. And Bucky let him, resting his head on his chest and tracing lackadaisical circles with his fingertips.

"Ya know, for the record"—Bucky mumbled around a yawn—"muscles don't make good pillows."

Steve laughed. He ruffled Bucky's hair and fell asleep more easily and deeply than he had in years.

A/N: My doc is full of Sebastian Stan working out and...a whole bunch of NSFW gifs. Whoa.

How are you doing out there?