Written to: Sleeping With a Friend - Neon Trees, crosspost from AO3. Minor, implied spoilers for Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
Appetence: An eager desire, an instinctive inclination; an attraction or a natural bond.
The next time Steve sees Bucky, Bucky is trying to break into his bedroom in the Avengers Tower. Steve hurries over, unlocks the window, drags him in before he can set off the security system.
"What are you doing here?" Steve asks, checking behind his shoulder to make sure the bedroom door is locked. "You can't break into the tower at night, Tony's got too many bells and whistles."
Bucky shrugs. Doesn't say anything, his mouth covered with that black mask. Steve looks, takes a really close look for the first time. He is a few inches taller than Bucky now, but Bucky looks...far smaller, somehow. His dark eyes dart around the room before coming to rest on Steve, boring holes into him with an intensity that makes a shiver run up Steve's spine. After a moment, Bucky looks away, sighs, runs a hand through his dark hair.
"Are you okay?" Steve asks. The scent of iron and salt and a hint of the cologne Bucky used to wear - back in 1940, and has it been that long? it must have been - fills his nose. "Are you hurt, or hungry, or thirsty, or anything?"
Bucky shakes his head, and for the first time, Steve finds uncertainty in those dark eyes.
"Who are you?" he asks, his words muffled behind the mask.
Steve looks at him, confused. "Don't you remember me? We just saw each other a few months ago. And I guess you broke into my room a few weeks ago. You left me a message on my laptop."
Bucky shakes his head vigorously, his eyes darting around the room, drinking in every detail, every shadow, trying to remember. "I don't."
Steve reaches up, slowly, tentatively, and Bucky holds himself very still as Steve takes away the mask.
"It's me. Steve Rogers," he says, placing the mask on his dresser. "Captain America."
Bucky's prosthetic hand curls into a fist, and several different emotions pass through his dark eyes. Anger. Fear. Confusion. He throws a punch, but only halfheartedly, and though there is still a frightening amount of strength behind it, Steve easily stops it.
"I...I have to kill you," Bucky says, gasping, his real hand massaging at his temples as if to fight off a migraine. "They said I have to."
"Who said you have to?" Steve asks, letting Bucky's prosthetic drop back to his side.
Bucky shakes his head from side to side, strands of dark hair falling over his face. Steve reaches out and smooths them back. "I don't know."
"Do you want to kill me?" Steve questions, wondering if he should raise an alarm. But how can he? he wonders. This is Bucky. A friend, a love.
Bucky bites his lip, answers after a long moment. "No. Don't want to."
Steve smiles quietly, turns to his dresser and rummages for a towel and a spare set of clothes. He hands them to Bucky, points to the bathroom door. When Bucky doesn't respond, Steve gently nudges him towards the bathroom. Once inside, and the window is opened to let the steam out, Steve runs the hot water into the tub with a capful of bath salts. Gently undoes the buttons and straps on Bucky's uniform, letting them pile messily on the floor like sloppy shadows, and after asking if Bucky's prosthetic arm is safe in the water (it is), herds him into the bath.
Steve sits down on the edge of the tub, moistens a soft sponge, scrubs over Bucky's unresisting limbs, watching with a little smile as Bucky relaxes fully under his hands.
Their limbs entangled beneath Steve's sheets, Bucky mumbles something that Steve doesn't quite catch.
"What was that?" he asks, stroking Bucky's soft hair, still slightly damp at the tips and smelling of Steve's shampoo.
"I feel safe here," Bucky admits, his words muffled not by his mask, but into the hollow of Steve's throat. "I don't know why, I don't remember, but you make me feel safe. I don't want to hurt you, but you're Captain America."
Steve hugs Bucky tightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"I won't be Captain America for a little bit, okay?" he murmurs gently. "I'll just be Steve, and you'll just be Bucky, okay? Just for now, just like this."
Bucky nods, his breathing slowing, deepening, and Steve presses another kiss to his forehead before falling asleep.