Re: Bucky & Steve
There had never been a chance that Steve was going to manage falling asleep on Natasha's couch. He was still wired from the party, from the fight and then the blur of Natasha sweeping him and Bucky out of the hall and all the way to her penthouse. He couldn't get his mind to shut off either, too preoccupied with puzzling out all of the potential ramifications of this evening's fuck ups. He'd texted Clint an apology, but Clint hadn't gotten back to him, so that was item number one on his list to worry about. Also featured was the question of how he was going to explain this to Peggy, not to mention the inevitability of the lascivious rumors that were undoubtedly already making the rounds.
It was probably ironic, really, that in one evening (and despite his complete lack of experience) he'd gone from entirely useless in bed to having a threesome with two of Panem's best-looking Victors, at least as far as the general Capitol public was concerned.
The worries didn't end there, of course. Steve kept worrying at the possibility that Bucky might be angry with him - and there was the horrible realization, too, that Steve's actions had taken him to a bad place tonight, that Steve wasn't even really sure what he'd done to get him there, but it had happened all the same.
Natasha had never come back out of the kitchen, and Bucky's room had been quiet for a few hours, so Steve had stretched out on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The room was dim, but enough light filtered in from the windows to make out general shapes. After a few hours of nothing but stressful thoughts, Steve heard the water kick on, recognizing it immediately as someone getting ready to take a shower. That would be Bucky, then, unless the kitchen somehow connected to another bathroom.
Steve sat up, wincing as the shift in position made his head throb. He probably should have iced his face, but it hadn't been worth the trip back into the kitchen, not when Natasha had so clearly wanted to be alone. His nose was slightly swollen, he thought, and he knew he was in for at least a black eye. His breathing was a little thick and stuffy, too, a side effect of his earlier nosebleed. He reached for a nearby table lamp and turned it on, his eyes defaulting to a squint as the warm, yellow light flooded the room.
The shower didn't last too long, and a while after the water shut off, Bucky appeared, wearing the same clothes he'd had on for the party. His hair was damp though, and it was curling over his forehead in a familiar way, one that Steve remembered from back when they'd been kids and they'd get caught in a rainstorm that left them soaked to the bone before they could make it home. Steve's hair had always ended up plastered across his forehead, fine and limp, but as soon as it wasn't actively being rained upon, Bucky's hair would acquire a bit of a wave, just enough to make it look purposely tousled.
Steve watched him as he came closer, his voice soft, his body near-silent in its movements. When he sat, it was on the table directly in front of Steve, who let out a soft, relieved sigh. Bucky couldn't have been too mad, if he was choosing to sit this close.
"Nah," Steve said. "I'm kind of wired - you know how I get." He left after a fight unsaid, not wanting to bring that up so soon in the conversation. "What about you? I didn't hear any deafening snores, so I couldn't be sure if you'd gotten to sleep or not." He smiled uncertainly as he said it and knocked his knee gently against Bucky's - because their true north tended to be goodnatured teasing, and he wasn't quite sure if they were there yet. If this was just the calm before Bucky reamed him out for being an idiot.