They were in London and it was their first time on leave in weeks. The whole team was crammed into a packed-to-the-brim bar and the music was loud but the change of sound was a relief after many days of open gunfire. The people in the bar were loose and warmed by alcohol and Steve felt like he was most definitely the only one there who was not even remotely drunk.
While that may have been the case, he still gratefully accepted a cool pint of beer from Bucky when his friend sauntered up to the bar, clapping a hand on Steve’s broad shoulder with a lopsided grin.
“Now this is what I’m talking about!” Bucky slurred loudly over the music; his cheeks were flushed pink and Steve guessed he was probably on his sixth beer if the state of his glazed eyes were anything to go by. “Good music and a cold beer!”
Steve gave him an answering grin and bumped their glasses together in a silent ‘cheers’. Bucky downed his immediately and Steve laughed openly, patting him on the back. It felt good to be out of the line of fire and his heart was at ease now that his team was relaxed and had a roof over their heads. It’d been a long darn time since he’d seen his friends this lighthearted, particularly Bucky, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.
Seeing his best friend flushed and grinning made Steve feel like it was the old days. Like they weren’t in the midst of a horrific war that could very well send them all to early graves. But Steve was going to do his darndest to make sure they all got back home in one piece.
Bucky placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder absently, shaking the Captain out of his thoughts. He leaned into Steve as he ordered another beer for himself, his chest pressing against Steve’s arm. Even through the layers of clothing, Steve could still feel Bucky’s radiating warmth.
When the bar man returned with his order, Bucky clutched the dripping mug to his chest and gave Steve a mock salute before disappearing back into the throng of people.
That was how it was between them. They didn’t have need for words for reassurance or comfort; even when they were kids, they had always communicated with small gestures and touches.
Steve took a sip of the amber coloured beer that Bucky had purchased for him and winced at the bitter taste. His friend had horrendous taste in alcohol, Steve thought, somewhat annoyed but mostly affectionate.
About two hours later, while Steve nursed a semi-cold beer (thankfully smooth and not at all bitter),watching the odd patron laugh drunkenly from afar, Bucky sidled back to Steve’s side looking a little worse for wear. The bar had mostly emptied out and the music had gone soft and quiet. The Howling Commandos had left about a half hour ago but Steve had hung back to make sure Bucky got back to base safely.
“I’m so drunk,” Bucky groaned and placed his head in his hand, leaning his elbow on the bar to prop himself up.
“Could’ve told you that hours ago,” Steve grinned.
“How are you still sober?” Bucky murmured, gazing up at Steve with half lidded eyes.
“You know I can’t get drunk, Buck.” Steve sighed and put a warm hand on his friends shoulder. “You ready to go back to base, pal?”
“Yeah,” Bucky slurred, pushing away from the bar so abruptly that he almost fell straight on his ass as his feet got tangled up in the stool.
And he would have too if it weren’t for Steve’s lightning fast reflexes; he caught Bucky with both hands and jerked him up to his feet sharply, unintentionally crushing them together as they both wobbled to maintain balance.
The pang of fear in Steve’s chest had been devastatingly real in that moment. He felt stupid for having reacted so quickly but this was Bucky and damn if he didn’t always get that little surge of rushing terror whenever Bucky was in danger. He jerkily realized that a tumble off of a stool was not something one would normally panic about and he flushed bright red as their chests pressed together.
Steve’s reaction had been automatic, like he was built just for that purpose, to protect Bucky.
He had always been exceedingly aware of his friends’ presence. Even more so now, with their bodies tangled together and Bucky’s arm slung drunkenly over Steve’s shoulder, he couldn’t help but get caught up in his best friends’ ocean coloured eyes.
“Jesus, Buck, you’re gonna get yourself killed one day if you keep this up,” Steve said lightly, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to steady his friends wobbling figure.
Bucky looked up at the touch and smiled so brightly that Steve had to hold his breath because suddenly his heart started doing all kinds of strange somersaults inside of his chest. And it was most definitely not supposed to be doing that because of his best pal’s smile.
That feeling was something he got when Peggy looked at him.
Jesus, he was in deep trouble.
“Lucky I got you to look out for me then, huh, punk?” Bucky said affectionately. Somehow his hand had traveled to Steve’s waist for balance and he suddenly realized just how much bigger Steve had actually become and how awfully close they were pressed together. “God, still not used to how big you are,” Bucky voiced out loud, lips loosened by alcohol. He unconsciously cupped his hand around Steve’s cheek to feel the strong jawline that hadn’t been there a year before.
And, yeah, maybe Steve was bigger, but he was still the same man he had always been. He still fought the good fight; only now he could actually defend himself. Bucky selfishly mourned the loss of that scrappy little kid from Brooklyn but he was also relieved that serum made Steve healthy like he never had been before. Too many times had Steve gotten so ill to the point that he had been bed ridden for weeks. Too many times had Bucky worried that his best friend wouldn’t make it through another night of coughing and wheezing
But he had pulled through and now here they were. Bucky owed Steve his life and even if he didn’t, he would follow Steve anywhere regardless. Steve, whether he knew it or not, was Bucky’s everything. Hell, Bucky would probably be in jail at this point if it hadn’t been for that stubborn little kid turning him into a better man than he ever could have possibly been.
Looking into Steve’s strikingly focused blue eyes, Bucky brushed his thumb over his friends warm cheek, feeling slightly flushed himself. The alcohol in his system had left him with a pleasant fuzzy sensation all over. The skin under Bucky’s hand was somehow still completely smooth even hours after a morning shave, though Bucky himself had thick prickly stubble outlining his jaw.
“Buck…” Steve blushed scarlet at the touch and if that didn’t give away his current inner thoughts, he didn’t know what would. He nervously glanced around them but there was nothing to find; their end of the bar was completely empty and mostly obscured from prying eyes by a large wooden pillar.
“Your lips are still the same,” Bucky observed quietly, stroking his thumb over Steve’s plump lower lip, causing the latter to inhale sharply at the gentle touch.
“What are you…?” Steve started, shocked in to silence as Bucky cut him off with a firm press of his mouth.
Steve gripped tightly at Bucky’s shoulders, meaning to push him away. His friend was clearly drunk and not at all in his right mind and Steve did not feel right taking advantage of him like this.
But his body betrayed him and instead of pushing Bucky away, Steve only pulled him closer, suddenly desperate to feel the hard outline of Bucky’s body against his own.
If Bucky was that drunk, he wouldn’t remember in the morning and Steve could have this one thing. Just this. The feeling of Bucky’s moist mouth seeking against his own. He could keep this memory for the cold damp nights that were surely to come and he would recall the warmth Bucky’s neck under his hand, flushed and wanting.
When Bucky’s devilish tongue snuck a small taste of Steve’s lower lip, the latter became suddenly sharply aware of where they were. Steve gently pushed Bucky away as he glanced anxiously around them but there was not a soul on their secluded end of the bar. Gripping at Bucky’s shoulders, Steve gazed unabashedly into his friends heated but glassy eyes. If he could only have this one moment, then he was going to be strong. He refused to duck shyly away like his past self would have surely done.
“It’s time to go back.” Steve said regretfully, brushing a limp strand of hair off of his friends’ forehead.
“Don’t want to go back,” Bucky was suddenly feeling very tired and he leaned heavily on Steve’s chest, his legs feeling like lead. “Want to go dancing…”
“I’ll take you out dancing next time.” Steve smiled warmly and hauled Bucky’s arm over his shoulders so he was half carrying, half dragging the Sergeant out of the bar.
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Bucky mumbled groggily to the floor as they exited the bar.
When they arrived back at base, Steve tucked an out-cold Bucky into his cot and stood over him for several moments as he watched the peaceful rise and fall of his friends’ chest.
He would keep this moment to himself, he decided. He wouldn’t bring it up tomorrow when Bucky would surely ask what had happened the previous night. Steve was positive that he would not have any recollection of what had transpired and while that made his heart twist sharply at the thought, he was also slightly relieved that he wouldn’t have to look in to Bucky’s disgusted eyes if he ever did find out.
It was safer like this; for things to go back as they had always been.
And it was enough for Steve to have the memory of the dry press of Bucky’s chapped lips against his own, smelling of stale beer and cigarette smoke.
Steve sighed heavily and turned on his heel to head over to his own cot.
It had to be enough.