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[punchedhitler]

This is Steve Rogers. Please leave a message.


Beep!

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[yourbestguysgun]

[ He walks around for a bit to clear his head, think it over, and pretty much all Bucky can think about is how dumb this is, how they're letting the bad guy win by dividing the ranks.

And he cares about Steve more than some macho pissing contest.

So he comes back, shuts the door quietly. He knows Steve isn't in the room they share, and he can understand that, but it still makes something in his stomach clench. So he raps his knuckles against the door, presses himself into the frame. ]

[punchedhitler]

[Steve isn't used to Bucky knocking - he always felt like his doors were eternally open, like there were no walls between them, so it makes his gut bottom out when he hears it.

But he opens anyway, moving away from the door to let Bucky in]

Hi.

[yourbestguysgun]

[ So, he totally meant to stay up and wait for Steve to come home, really. Which may be why he's sprawled over the couch, Crepe in his lap and a book dangling from his fingers as he drifts. He's not sleeping, not really, just conserving energy until Steve gets back.

Crepe's sleeping though, snoring lightly against his belly. ]

[punchedhitler]

[He's remarkably stealthy for a man who takes up so much space, so he opens the door carefully. It's late - Steve's been on patrol, even though he won't say it, so he's in the uniform and the shield is attached to his back]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ At some point in the night, Bucky seems to have subconsciously realised just how cold it's gotten. He's still asleep, but he's moved to drape himself protectively over Steve's back, like they're still kids, like Steve's still in need of somebody else warm when the weather's like this.

He barely makes a noise though, just snuffles closer. ]

[punchedhitler]

[It is cold, even Steve feels it. He reaches for Bucky to use as a blanket, now, even though he's releasing heat like a radiator.]

Buck....y?

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He is in the best mood, which means when he finds Steve, he can't help himself, has to cross over to the couch and straddle him with a grin, knocking the paper out of his hand. The kiss he gives him is soft. ]

Hey.

[punchedhitler]

[It's okay that paper was just a study of hands that Steve did, nothing important.]

I'd say someone got you a dog and a new bicycle, I haven't seen you this pleased in a stretch.

action;

[buckykins]

[ Bucky had promised he'd come to bed once he finished reading, but maybe he'd fallen asleep sometime before midnight. Whatever he's done, he certainly doesn't remember it now. Possibly because he's a nine year old child who's just woken up with his head pillowed on someone else's dog.

Panicking, he untangles himself from the sleeping animal and moves to climb down from the couch, gets caught in too long pajama legs and goes tumbling, causing Bucky's book and Steve's art supplies to fall to the floor.

Bucky should be alarmed - he's probably going to get into trouble anyway, but he's too busy staring at a shield propped up beside him. It's so neat looking. ] Woah. [ The dog lifts her head and stares at him. ] Is this yours?

action;

[punchedhitler]

[Steve hears the crashing and it wakes him up, so he tumbles out of bed

(where's Bucky?)

and hauls himself into the living room. Crepe wasn't barking so he knew it probably wasn't anything dangerous, so he didn't grab the gun Bucky usually kept within arms reach.]

What happ....ened.

Holy moly.

[waitedforyears]

Hey so if you lost a pint-sized Barnes, I got him. We're playing fetch.

[punchedhitler]

THANK YOU SO MUCH AMY. CAN YOU PLEASE WATCH HIM FOR A LITTLE WHILE, I'LL COME GET HIM SOON. SINCERELY STEVE ROGERS

[ Text ]

[bettercallit]

[ Clint is watching a small version of Bucky running around in the park, both Crepe and Fury on their leashes as he plays with them happily, and he takes the chance to use the device while he's distracted. ]

Missing something, Rogers?

[ Text ]

[punchedhitler]

ONE BEST FRIEND, YES.

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He wakes up alone, body curled around a pillow, the light from the hall filtering through the crack in the door and for a moment he's just confused. It takes him barely a moment from that to figure out what happened.

The curse. ] Fuck.

[ Crepe doesn't make a noise when he slips out of the bed, leaving the door open for her in the morning. The light gets switched off on his way past, and it's easy from then on in to slip into their bedroom and pad over to Steve, slipping beneath the covers. ]

[punchedhitler]

[Steve opens his eyes just a smidge when he feels Bucky's weight, and he shifts to give Bucky space to crawl into the bed with him. It takes him a moment to remember that Bucky isn't a child anymore, and when he does he looks over]

Hi, Bucky.

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He's been thinking about it all day, letting it curl into the very corner of his mind while he goes about his business. Being jealous is not a new concept to Bucky, but it's different now, when he's around Steve, someone who he loves like he's part of himself, someone he actually wants to have a claim to.

So he can't help himself. Everyone got to kiss his sweetheart and it almost makes him want to take him back. Which is why when Steve passes him in the living room, Bucky twists on his heel and pushes him back against the wall, his back hitting it just as his mouth seals over his. ]

[punchedhitler]

[He was just getting his laundry together to take to the laundromat when he's suddenly against the walls, Bucky's mouth inexplicably on his. Clothes fly everywhere but Steve doesn't care about mess, he just grips Bucky at the waist and pulls him closer, his eyes closing shut. He can feel his eyelashes on Bucky's skin, that's how close they are.]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He settles down beside Steve easily, avoiding the canvases and the charcoal enough to press his knee against Steve's thigh. ] You'd tell me if you weren't okay, right?

[punchedhitler]

[A sudden, startled worry flits over Steve's face]

I tell you everything, you know that.

[He doesn't want Bucky to think otherwise.]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Bucky's been oddly busy for most of the day, which means he hasn't really had a chance to ask the question brewing in the back of his mind. At least not until now, with the clock above the oven ticking into night and the dishes finally dried, Bucky's hands wrapped in a tea towel. ]

Hey. Can I ask you a question?

[punchedhitler]

No, Bucky, cotton candy is not made from ghost vomit.

[He says this because he feels that tension and well, he'd like to be rid of it.]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ There's a certain level of exhaustion that creeps in no matter what you do, and Bucky's feeling it now, wired on coffee but tired as fuck, which explains why he brackets Steve against the kitchen counter without warming, head dropping to connect with his shoulder.

Mumbled. ] Let's run away together.

[punchedhitler]

There's no Coney Island, here.

[He just leans down to press a kiss to the top of Bucky's head]

[undercut]

[Roy enters the police station, military uniform having been quickly sent to the dry cleaner's for an hour after exchanging the money he'd had on him for a small bagful of strange colored coins. First impressions last, after all, and he isn't about to screw it up and show up in front of potential employers with a wrinkled uniform.

He walks up to the nearest desk with a person behind it, all manners and posture with a certain tone of voice that carries well should anyone happen to be walking by at that exact moment.]

My apologies for the intrusion, but I'd like to speak with the chief of this unit at his or her earliest convenience. Personally, if possible.

[punchedhitler]

[Steve comes out of his office, hearing this, and gives the clerk a smile and tells her to go for lunch.]

That's me. I'm Captain Rogers.

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He's nursing a beer, propped on the arm of the couch to lean in and look at what Steve is sketching. ]

Hey, can I ask you something?

[punchedhitler]

The Palace isn't really haunted, it's only four years old.

[Steve: master of anticipating dumb questions. But that's a yes.]

this contact post is legit just me hassling you.

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He tries to be silent when he gets home off his shift, toeing his boots off in the hall and getting changed in the bathroom. But he knows Steve'll feel the bed dip with his weight, will sense the chill Bucky brings in with him.

And he's greedy either way, because he still cuddles up to him immediately, an affection vampire of the more selfish variety. Steve is a furnace and Bucky likes touching him. ]

And I am okay with that

[punchedhitler]

[He had finally gotten some sleep, but he feels the bed dip and he wakes up a little, turning to offer Bucky a space at his side, and opening his eyes just a bit]

You're home late.

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He'd meant to stay up and wait for Steve, to talk, to sort this all out. But somehow during the night he's found himself sprawled on his back on the couch, one hand barely touching the floor.

The television's playing some show about pasta but it's on quiet and it pretty much is just providing a flickering light. Crepe's asleep on Bucky's stomach, nose covered by her paws. Bucky's snoring lightly, mouth open. ]

[punchedhitler]

[Steve wakes up to find this, and the first thing he does is turn the television off and nudge Crepe off Bucky's chest - she goes to her soft bed in the corner and flops there, going back to sleep.

He very carefully picks Bucky up, hoping that the other man doesn't wake up, to carry him to bed]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Blowing into his cupped hands. It's getting a little colder now. At least nothing is falling out of the sky today. ]

I told Rosella I had t'leave the Blue Light.

[punchedhitler]

How'd she take it?

[Crepe is tagging along, pouncing on dry leaves]

because you're back now and I can mwahahaha

[yourbestguysgun]

[ It's the middle of October and already the bite of cold is in the air. He doesn't mind it all that much now he doesn't have to worry, now that the whip of wind doesn't make something sharp settle in his stomach. Which is good, it means he can tease Steve.

It's how he ends up moving up behind him in the kitchen, hands sliding to place cold digits against his warm stomach, cold nose burying into his neck. It serves him right, really. ]

never stop

[punchedhitler]

[He stiffens up almost right away at the cold, his hands clutching at Bucky's]

Holy moly, Buck, were you taking a cold shower or something?

[yourbestguysgun]

Do you think the clowns are Nazis?

[ Can we kill them? ]

[punchedhitler]

I don't think Nazi's have the sense of humor to dress as clowns.

[Not yet. B|]