“Buck, am I doing this right?”
Now, Bucky is not one to ever complain about hearing the sound of his husband’s voice. A lifetime of pining and being torn apart will do that to you. However, this moment is about as close as he’s going to get.
Like every Sunday since Bucky returned from Wakanda, they’re doing yoga in the sunroom of their Brooklyn apartment. Bruce suggested it would help promote “mindfulness” for them both (whatever that meant) and Bucky’s found it to be pretty enjoyable, while Steve.... well, he’s another story.
“You’re breaking my concentration, kid. Kind of goes against the point of meditation,” he says, not opening his eyes. He already knows the exact look Steve is no doubt giving him right now. Kicked puppy eyes, baby blues opened up wide the way they always do when he wants something.
Doesn’t stop Bucky from falling for them every time, though.
“But I need your help,” Steve insists, stubborn as all get out per usual. All it takes is a wobbly “please?” and Bucky lets out a defeated sigh.
He opens his eyes and is greeted with the sight of his husband staggering in a pathetic excuse of a yoga pose. Apparently, that big body isn’t good at everything.
“Thought that serum was supposed to make you better at this kind of stuff,” Bucky comments drily, not falling for Steve’s dumb blonde act for one second. He’s a horrible liar. Would make an even worse spy. He can see Steve’s eyes dart to the side and almost hear him wrack his brain for an excuse.
“Um-“
He’s never been a good actor. Bucky has no idea how he pretended to be straight for so long, let alone how he made it up on stage with the USO for more than a week.
Taking pity, Bucky spares him of his fumbling by jumping to his feet. Steve’s slightly frowny face immediately breaks into a loose smile. He thinks he has Bucky fooled.
He does not.
Bucky knows his husband is completely capable of doing yoga without Bucky’s help (he’s seem him do some rather impressive poses in a more... intimate setting, he might add). But who is he to be upset that Steve is just making excuses for Bucky to touch him?
He’s still allowed to tease him about it, though.
“You need my help, babydoll?” he says sweetly, taking a few steps forward. His fingers fiddle with the hem of his white workout shirt, and he sees Steve’s eyes flick down at them. He takes that as his cue to strip it off and toss it to sit by his water bottle. “Sorry, felt a little too sweaty.”
Two can play at this game, he thinks.
Steve swallows, nods, and wobbles a little more. “‘S okay, Buck.” He’s never one to complain when Bucky shows some skin.
Bucky grins and comes to stand in front of his husband. Steve’s hands instinctively come to rest on Bucky’s bare mismatched shoulders.
They’re staring at each other now, eye to eye, Steve’s hands gripping Bucky to keep him balanced on one leg. Steve’s expression is soft, and Bucky knows his own must be, too. It’s a rare thing for them both, these quiet, soft moments for just them alone. So Bucky lets it settle for a moment, bringing mismatched hands up to cup Steve’s face and leaning in for a gentle kiss.
Steve kisses him back just as sweet, but when the press of his lips grows more insistent, Bucky rememberers what put them into this position in the first place.
“Gotta fix your form, baby,” he murmurs into his mouth. He pulls back and slides his hands down to rest on Steve’s biceps.
Steve lets out what he’ll later deny is a tiny whine, not wanting Bucky to stop kissing him but still trying to keep up the act. “What? Oh. Yeah, needed your help with that...”
He’s pouting now. Bucky grins. He’s so cute sometimes. Almost too cute for the stickler everyone else thinks he is.
“It’s alright.” He takes a step back, and removes Steve’s hands from his shoulders. This elicits another dissatisfied sound from Steve, and Bucky has to hold in a chuckle, opting to position himself behind Steve so he can’t see the smirk that‘s now plastered across Bucky’s face.
“First things first, you’re too wobbly- which is because you don’t have a stable foundation. Steve, sweetheart- you’re just gonna knock yourself over if you keep trying look back here at me.”
Steve, who has been craning his head to try and see him, flushes. “Gotta keep an eye on you, Barnes. Never know what you might do when I’m not lookin’.” He’s snippy, but he turns back around with a smile.
“What do you think I’m gonna do? Maybe something like... this?” And with that, Bucky uses his metal hand to pinch his husband’s more than ample ass through the spandex shorts he’s sporting.
Steve yelps in surprise and flails his arms. “James Buchanan!”
Bucky starts laughing and steadies his unstable husband by placing his hands on his narrow waist. “Oh, is that not what you thought I meant by ‘got your six’, Stevie?”
Steve turns his head again to side eye him with a glare. “Jerk,” be grumbles.
“Punk,” Bucky retorts, easy as pie. Then, to keep up the act on his own end, “Alright. Alright, I’ll actually start helping now. Straighten your arms, will you? Hold ‘em stable- yeah, that’s it.”
Steve does as he’s told and- surprise, surprise- his pose improves drastically. Almost like he was fucking it up on purpose. Go figure.
“That’s a lot better. Now- keep ‘em straight, but relax your shoulders a bit. That’s right,” he says. Then, just to fuck with Steve again for being a lying little shit, he leans in and croons an intentionally too sweet “good boy” right into Steve’s left ear.
“Bucky!” Steve snaps, bringing his shoulders right back up to where they had been before. His arms are drawn tight and Bucky can see his muscles flexing.
Bucky keeps his voice innocent, even while then implication of his words is anything but. “What, I thought you liked it when I called you that?”
“I- Not when we’re doing yoga!” Steve sounds as scandalized as he looks. Not the prude people like to make him out to be, but still pretty easily flustered, if Bucky does say so himself.
Bucky hums. “My mistake- but honestly, I could have sworn that just the other week you were doing the perfect downward dog while I was calling you that. Don’t you remember?”
Steve groans and hangs his head forward. “Bucky,” he complains. “What are you doing? Why?”
Bucky chuckles and presses a kiss to the back of Steve’s neck. He can taste the salt of his sweat.
“Just teasing you a bit, sweetheart.” He pauses, and then touches Steve’s chin to tilt his face back to look at him. “Besides, I know you don’t actually need help with the pose. I’ve seen you do shit ten times harder in the field. You can be stealthy and still as a fox if you wanna.” He flicks him in the nose after. “Moron.”
And there it is, the deer caught in headlights look Bucky knew was coming. Caught, indeed.
“Um-“
Bucky rolls his eyes. “Like I ever need an excuse to touch you. But,” he adds, touching their foreheads together. “It is kind of cute to see you try and act all dumb and helpless. Living up to the whole shtick, huh, blondie?”
“Oh?” The embarrassed look on Steve’s face is gone, giving way to a grin when Bucky strokes over the blonde hair in question with his metal hand. “So if I were to just keep doing it in the future...”
Bucky laughs and spins his husband’s body around to face him, tucking his arms under Steve’s. Steve loops his around Bucky’s shoulders and looks at him with a dopey smile still plastered on his face.
“You sure are needy, Mr. Rogers-Barnes,” Bucky says.
Steve schools his features into an exaggerated frown. “Me? Needy? Says you, Mr. Barnes-Rogers. Getting half naked, touching my ass, talking dirty in my ear...”
Pulling him tighter into the embrace, Bucky presses a quick kiss to Steve’s nose. “I sound like a pretty bad teacher, huh?” he whispers. He doesn’t know why he feels like he has to be quiet in this moment, but something about the moment feels precious. Just for them.
“Maybe I oughta find a new one.”
“Mmm, think the wedding vows you made might make that a bit of a hassle for you.”
They share a quiet kiss, one that lingers. When Steve pulls away to make a retort, Bucky immediately pulls him back in.
“Now who’s being needy, Buck?” Steve says in a soft voice. Usually Bucky would snark right back, but right now he doesn’t want to. He just wants to stay in this intimate moment, created by a morning of stillness and stupidity.
“Always need you, Stevie,” he murmurs.
Steve’s face is just as soft and tender as he’s sure his own is.
“You always got me, Buck.”
As Sundays go, it’s a pretty good one.