Steve Rogers was having a no good, very bad day. He didn’t know what had triggered it, but he had woken up in a completely foul mood— he swear he could taste it on the back of his tongue.
He grabbed the hot pot of coffee off of the communal counter and poured it into a mug. He read it before he sipped the black coffee— ‘I Think My Patience Is At The Bottom Of This Coffee Cup’— to which he mirthlessly chuckled at. Of course, he had grabbed this mug. It was one of Bucky’s mugs he had bought from the time he was in Canada for a mission. He and Sam had laid waste to a Chapters on their way home and had bought most of the home section on Tony’s card. Retribution for a shitty mission, they had said.
She was gone off to a mission with Nat and Sam and Bucky, all four of his best friends shipped off to some exotic place while he was stuck in the smoggy city reading mission briefings and research articles for missions they may or may not go on. He was restless— like a wild lion caged in some circus cage waiting for the trainers to get just a little closer—
Anyways.
Steve’s reading glasses (apparently the serum began to wear off after over one hundred years) were perched on his nose, and he took them off and threw them to the desk in frustration. He was tired of HYDRA. Tired of robots, and aliens and nazis and come on it was 2019, why the hell were people still hating women and people who were different than them. The papers were covering the expanse of the desk in front of him made his heart race and his palms sweat. There was no good thing about being a super anymore— saving people did nothing for him anymore because there was always another baddie to fight.
All Steve Rogers wanted was to sit at home with a dog and an easel and have no agenda.
Either that or pitch himself off the side of Stark Tower.
“Cap. The team is arriving from their mission.” FRIDAY pitched, seeming to sense Steve’s mood of doom and gloom. He thanked the AI every day for all she did for him— reminded him to drink water or meet Tony in the lab or even gave him reasons to get out of bed. Well, when Bucky wasn’t around.
He had acclimatized to the group slowly, but well. He wasn’t a fan of anyone but Steve and Sam and Natahsa touching him, but he smiled at Peter and sat with Wanda. He gave Tony the space he needed to not ignite a strong enough rage so that the scientist wouldn’t kill him on the spot. Clint and Bucky would shoot for hours, wasting ammunition and time.
Buckys favourite spot in the compound however was in Steve’s bed, surrounded by his scent and warmed by the glowing light from the y’all windows.
“Cap. The quinjet has touched down.” FRIDAY chimed again, and Steve blinked and pushed away from the desk which chained him down. The halls were busy with agents and workers, all who stopped and gaped and saluted. He gave no facial recognition, only small nods and greetings as he rushed to the landing pad.
The cold winds of January surrounded his body, his t-shirt and jogging pants doing nothing to protect him from the cutting wind. It wasn’t anything that made Steve uncomfortable as he was wholly distracted by his best friends walking off the jet, laughing and jostling on another. It was a good mission, Steve thought, even a bad mission would be better than staying inside one minute longer. Buckys eyes eventually landed on Steve, and he shot Nat and Sam a quick goodbye before jogging over and smiling.
Despite the serum, Steve had yet to sprout taller than Bucky, and it showed as Buckys head bowed to touch his forehead to Steve’s in greeting. Steve made a purring sound somewhere in his chest, and hooked his fingers through some of the buckles on Buckys armour. It was good armour, planned by Bruce and manufactured by Tony.
“Hi,” Bucky rumbled, nose brushing Steve’s.
“I missed you.” Steve whispered, much to Buckys delight. The warm hand which was clasped around the back of Steve’s neck brushed around and traced Steve’s cheekbone with his thumb. Steve had kept the beard, much to Buckys chagrin as well as the long hair— which both men loved to play with and tug.
“I miss you too, pal.” Bucky returned, stepping closer. Buckys cold nose touched Steve’s warm neck and made chills race down his spine. It was no feeling compared to the touch of Buckys cold-chapped lips pressing against Steve’s pulse point.
“The mission?” Steve breathes, angling his neck just enough for Bucky to kiss the marks he had left only a few days ago.
“Good. Easy.” Bucky said. His breath came out across Steve’s neck hot and beautiful, and Steve pulled him closer by uniform and hair.
“Good. Sounds good.” Steve hummed. There was a commotion somewhere on the grounds, shouting and then laughing, but it was enough for Steve to jump away from Bucky with his neck and cheeks and ears red. Bucky rolled his eyes, that incredible smile splitting his fave in two as Bucky reached to intertwine Steve’s fingers through his own metal ones.
“Let’s get you inside, Punk. Your nipples might shatter the second I get my mouth on ‘em they’re so cold.”