4 Works by scorpiohs
Bucky breaks the kiss to mutter, “I don’t suppose you delivered a cheesy line to him in French when you knocked him out?”
Steve laughs. “I was unfortunately interrupted before I could.”
“What would you have said?” Bucky cups Steve’s cheek.
“Are you just trying to get me to say more stuff in French?”
“What if I am?” Bucky asks. “What if I like it?”
Sam and Natasha have a plan. They’re sick of the oblivious (“pathetic,” in Sam’s words) pining that Steve and Bucky do for each other all the time, and no amount of “Just tell him already!” is getting either of them to budge.
Sam, for instance, sees that Steve is spending his days doing everything he can for Bucky, staring at him all the time, smiling at every single thing he does. They see a lot of each other, sharing an apartment in the Tower. And each time Sam visits, he notices Steve’s googly eyes a little bit more.
“Those are friend things, Sam,” Steve says when he’s called out.
“You sure as hell aren’t doing those things for me,” Sam replies.
Natasha, on the other hand, sees the way that Bucky hardly ever laughs unless Steve is around, how he blushes when Steve walks in the room. She doesn’t bring it up to him- she doesn’t want to scare him away from the thought- but she’s seen enough that at this point, she wants to roll her eyes at the way Bucky’s jaw drops a little when he sees Steve in those tight t-shirts.
So Sam and Natasha have a plan.
Ever since the rationing went into effect, Steve has taken half of his daily coffee grains and stored them away. Sure, that means he drinks his cup even more watered down than he has to, but by the time it’s Bucky’s birthday in a week, he’ll be able to give his best guy something he actually wants (he usually can’t afford whatever that is.)
None the wiser, Bucky pouts, and Steve tries to ignore the flutter in his chest, going back to his sketch.
“Whatcha drawing?” Bucky leans back against the pillows, hands behind his head.
Bucky always asks the same question, and Steve’s answer never changes. Bucky never asks to see the art, thank God, and never finds out that he’s almost always lying.
It’s not like Bucky would mind, necessarily. The drawings usually aren’t compromising, he wouldn’t come to the right conclusion… probably.
Steve had always suspected that Bucky’s mattress was comfier than his. They both had queen-sized beds, the same model, bought at the same time, but Bucky had been a little too quick to pick his when he won the coin toss the first day they were roommates. He liked to tease Bucky about it, trying to make him do more chores because “You have the better bed!” Bucky would comply, sometimes, which only worked to confirm Steve’s suspicions.
But now, as Bucky gently pressed him into said mattress, tongue slipped inside his mouth, Steve knew for sure he had been right.