This one is one of my fav chapters, so I really hope you like it!

"Why the hell did we go in such bad weather?" he asks as they walk into the bedroom, both soaking wet.

"It was your fucking idea" Bucky grunts.

Steve laughs as strips of his T-Shirt, and then opens the drawer to grab a towel and dry clothes.

"You could've said it was madness"

"Trying to change your mind is madness, you stubborn punk"

"Oh, shut up" Steve says as he throws the towel over Bucky's head and starts drying his hair. He still hears the man laughing softly from under the cloth.

They both feel at ease like this, enjoying the simplicity of the other's presence.

Steve puts the towel aside and tugs at Bucky's wet T-Shirt in order to strip him off it, but then the man suddenly pushes himself away from him, panic painted in his eyes, and he's practically rushing out the door by the time Steve grabs his metal forearm, not letting him get away.

"Bucky, what—?"

"Sorry… I-I'm sorry, it's just…" he seems anxious, scared and so different from the man he knows, from the man he was just seconds ago, that Steve worries, wondering what might've gone wrong. But then he notices him clutching at his left shoulder with his right hand despairingly, and he thinks he knows what's bothering him, even if he does not fully understand why Bucky's suddenly so sickened by the prosthesis.

Slowly, he drags him to the bed and makes him sit on the edge, and then he reaches out for his metal hand. Bucky's breath hitches, but he does not pull away when the man entwines his fingers with his own, artificial ones. He looks up into his friend's eyes, and as he smiles at him, lovingly and reassuringly, his breathing gets steadier and he calms down a bit.

"I'm sorry…"

"There's nothing to be sorry about." Steve raises their joined hands to his mouth and places a light kiss on Bucky's, because even if the man is not entirely comfortable with kisses, it still feels appropriate this time. "Come on, it's not so bad, there's actually something… appealing about it."

"That's not… It's not about the arm itself…" he says as he grips at his shoulder more tightly, disgust painted on his eyes.

And Steve gets it.

He had been doing ok with all the touching and holding hands all this time; Steve hadn't mind the prosthesis, and that had seemed to be enough for Bucky, until now, when he had tried to take his shirt off.

"Let me see it" he asks softly. The older man looks devastated as he shakes his head.

"It's… hideous…"

"Buck, I'm not going to let you spend the rest of our lives fearing the day I might see you shirtless. Let me see it" and this time it wasn't a request, but more than the tone it was the words what did the trick, spoken without thinking but their meaning overwhelming nonetheless: 'The rest of our lives'. And he can't help but give in.

Hesitantly, Bucky lets go of his grip on his shoulder and allows Steve to slowly strip him off his black long-sleeved shirt, pulling it over his left arm first, then his head, and then finally his metal arm. He takes a sharp breath as the man eyes the joint, and he does not dare to even glance at his friend to gauge his reaction. He doesn't need to look at the aberrant union between flesh and metal to know what his friend is seeing, the scarred skin clashing against the appendix gruesomely.

Then he feels the pressure against the plates, and his brain tells him Steve's fingers are ghosting over his arm, slowly reaching up to his shoulder. His pulse quickens and his whole body tenses, but the blond is just caressing the joint softly, tenderly, mapping his scars and tracing the union.

"Does it hurt?"

Bucky shakes his head.

"Only a bit… when it's cold"

Steve nods as he leans in closer and starts placing soft, loving kisses where his fingers were before, since this time it didn't seem to be bothering his friend, and that simple gesture is more intimate than anything Bucky has ever felt. He shudders and lets out the breath he's been holding, and once again he can't help but wonder what he has ever done to deserve such love.

A tear escapes his eyes, but he doesn't bother trying to hide it.

The man's now gently holding his shoulders and tenderly kissing him along his collarbone, then the base of his neck, along his carotid, beneath his earlobe, on his jawline… The progress is so deliberately slow and paused that by the time he reaches the corner of his mouth Bucky's yearning for it, and when Steve finally presses his lips against his, he kisses back, breathing into him.

It's chaste, pure, speaking of things Bucky does not dare to crave for, and far too short. When the blond pulls back, despite how delicate the kiss was, he's in need for air, just because Steve leaves him breathless.

Then the man places a last light kiss on his shoulder.

Steve does not think the joint is hideous, as Bucky called it. He really just does not mind, but Bucky doesn't need nor deserve his condescendence, so he does not lie either, does not try telling him it's beautiful, or even just ok.

He looks at him.

"I love you. All of you" is all he says.

And Bucky believes him.

For a while, Bucky just lets himself be cradled by the man, resting his head on the crook of his neck. Then the blond pulls back to look at him, smiling gently.

"Better?" he asks, and Bucky nods.

It's still a bit early, but they both are physically and emotionally tired, so by unspoken mutual agreement they strip of their respective wet jeans, throw a couple T-Shirts on, and lie down on the bed.

They don't say anything else, but there's no need to.

Steve doesn't make a move to leave, dreading the prospect of the solitude of the couch, and he does not feel guilty about not going away because Bucky not only seems to not mind it at all, but judging by his look when Steve hit the bed, he was actually hoping he'd stay. The man holds his hand, pulls him closer, and throws the covers over them, and Bucky smiles to himself and rests his head on the blond's chest. As Steve wraps his arms around him, protectively, the last thing that goes through his mind is how this is the first time he's ever felt completely safe that he can remember, and how he wants to always fall asleep to this, the warmth, the soothing and rhythmic heartbeats beneath him, and Steve's amazing scent filling his mind.

This was sappier than a Nicholas Sparks book, and I regret nothing.

- V7